I believe stories are meant to be shared, to connect us, to humanise our experiences, and to remind us that we are not alone. By sharing mine, I hope to show what has shaped me, what drives me, and who I truly am. Some of my experiences have been dark. The emotional terrain I’ve navigated has, at times, been terrifying. But I am proud of where I’ve come from and all that I’ve overcome because it has made me the woman I am today, a woman who can sit with others in their darkness. I am not afraid of it because I have been there before.

I grew up in France, just outside of Paris. We had a beautiful garden, my first sanctuary. There were tall, evergreen trees, deer, birds, a woodpecker, plum trees, and dragonflies dancing above our pond. I have always been an extremely sensitive person, deeply attuned to the emotions of others, the energy of spaces, and the unspoken truths in between.

In my earliest years, before I had the words to name what was happening, I experienced physical, and sexual abuse. My body began shutting down, screaming at the world for help. I developed a stutter, an autoimmune reaction, and cripplingly low self-esteem. My light had been entirely extinguished. I stopped eating, trying desperately to numb the pain my body held. I withdrew deep inside myself, terrified of the world, entirely convinced that there was something irreparably wrong with me.

As I approached adulthood, the pain I had carried for years began to erupt, leading me down a self-destructive path. But this path led me into even more painful experiences, where a lack of self-worth and understanding of boundaries left me vulnerable to being treated in ways that deeply disrespected my body and spirit. With so little regard for myself, I barely recognised these violations for what they were.

But part of me screamed for more. Part of me knew that the way I was living wasn’t what I wanted for myself. I began a degree in psychology and committed to healing. I devoured every book I could find about trauma, the nervous system, and somatic healing. I threw myself into the inner journey of self-discovery. And oh, was it a lot. My body screamed out with years of repressed pain, trauma, sadness, betrayal, and pure rage. I was awakening to the truth that I was not what I had been made to believe. I was not small or insignificant. I was not bad or defective. I was perfect, divine, and innately enough.

Allowing myself to open up to sensation again, to let pain and emotion flow, was one of the most difficult and painful journeys I’ve ever faced. But over time, it became the most beautiful process I had ever known. As I began to see my own beauty, the world sang it back to me. People smiled warmly. Birds chirped louder than ever before. The deeper I went into the darkness, the more I touched the light. The more tears of pain I allowed myself to cry, the more tears of joy I experienced. The more I connected with my innate light, my power, and my sovereignty, the more life began to align.

Over time, I came to realise that the pain I carried was not only mine. It was ancestral, woven through the stories of the women who came before me. Within my body lived memories of grief, silence, suppression, and loss passed down through generations. But as I connected with this pain, I also uncovered profound wisdom and power. My body became a gateway - not just to healing, but to remembering. Remembering the intuitive knowing, creative force, and sacred lineage that lives in every womb and every woman.

The realisation of our eternal nature revealed to me the true purpose of our incarnations on this planet: to learn, to grow, and to evolve. I began to see that nothing had ever happened to me; it all happened for me, so that I could alchemise the pain, the heartbreak, the suffering into wisdom, strength, and power.

The work is ongoing. I am still walking this path, still meeting my shadows, still clearing what no longer belongs, still reclaiming parts of myself that were lost or denied. I build my life in devotion to what feels true, using the power of my womb, my voice, and my intuition. In doing so, I contribute to a new world, a world where women no longer have to shrink, silence themselves, or override their truth.

This is the path I walk. The path of remembrance. The path of awakening. I am here to hold sacred space for women to return to themselves, to reclaim their bodies, their pleasure, their voices, and their power.

This work is more than healing. It is a quiet revolution. I am here to dismantle the systems, stories, and conditioning that keep us small and disconnected from our truth. This work is both personal and political. It is soft and fierce. It is about coming home - and burning down what never belonged.