I am the child who did not know how to be in the world.
I am the child who cried rivers of tears knowing that she saw everything in a different hue, and that she was different too.
I am the child who ate her way into a bubble of protection.
I am the child that wore a sign post saying ‘come over here, I’m an easy target, take a hit and make yourself feel better for a moment’.
I am the teen, who looked at herself in disgust, and punished herself for not being ‘perfect’.
I am the teen, who starved her way to ‘acceptance’.
I am the teen, who abused her body, and tried to exercise it into oblivion.
I am the teen, whose body couldn’t cope, and kept pressing the emergency button hoping that someone would save her.
I am the teen, who thought that anyone who paid attention to her was worthy of her love.
I am the woman, who saw every kind of doctor and healer.
I am the woman, who fell in love and fumbled her way into being a wife and a mother, and is still figuring it all out; perfectly imperfect.
I am the woman, who spent many years exploring her heart, diving into the shadows and baby-stepping toward balance.
I am the woman, who realised that she has avoided being herself her entire life.
I am the woman who is an intuitive.
I am the woman who is a spiritual teacher.
I am the woman who can heal.
I am the woman who is finding her way from the day-to-day to the expanded consciousness that is within, and without, of herself, and of us all.
I am the woman, writing this, at this moment, and taking a step out of the spiritual closet that has always seemed so safe, and is suddenly so insufferable.
This is me, this is who I am.
It’s nice to meet you.
But I wonder. Are you really you?
With love and very deep breaths,