It took me a long time to receive a diagnosis of PTSD and complex PTSD. For many years, I pushed through life with the belief that if I just worked harder, tried more, and held myself together, I would eventually be able to live a “normal” life. I lived in denial about much of what had happened to me and was incredibly hard on myself in order to function in a world where things seemed effortless for others.

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No matter how hard I tried, my body kept responding. I experienced repeated burnouts, depression, sleepless nights, daily panic and anxiety attacks, and flashbacks. The more I pushed, the worse it became, until functioning at all felt nearly impossible and I barely recognized myself anymore.​

When I finally received my diagnosis, it brought an unexpected sense of relief. It showed me that it wasn’t a lack of effort or willpower that had kept me stuck. Around that same time, I had adopted a deeply traumatized dog who required immense patience, gentleness, and care. Through him, I began to see something clearly: where I met him with softness and compassion, I had treated myself with relentless harshness. That realization allowed me to begin extending the same kindness inward.

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I entered specialized trauma therapy with a great deal of hope. I wanted to heal, and I wanted to live. At that point, I was so depressed that my dogs were the only reason I kept going. I was deeply self-aware and had already spent years reflecting, reading, and understanding my patterns, triggers, and history. I knew why I reacted the way I did. But understanding alone did not bring relief.

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I tried many therapeutic approaches, including EMDR. For me, these methods often led to dissociation when emotions surfaced, followed by intensified flashbacks and nightmares afterward. I found myself oscillating between feeling nothing at all or feeling so much that it became unbearable. Revisiting events repeatedly did not lead to resolution, but rather deepened the strain on my nervous system.​

After about a year and a half, I made the difficult decision to stop traditional trauma therapy. During that time, I felt a strong pull to reconnect with my spiritual path and my intuitive gifts. Meditation became a place of safety. My intuition reawakened. The right teachers and guides appeared at exactly the moments I needed them.

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As my healing deepened, my connection opened in ways I hadn’t experienced before. I was guided to develop intuitive and spiritual healing methods rooted in my own lived experience. These methods focus not on surface-level coping, but on deep, soul-level healing. While the process can be intense, it is held with care and precision, and it brought relief in ways nothing else had.​

Rather than endlessly revisiting painful memories, I was able to return to them one final time — not to relive them, but to truly heal and release them. Through this work, my life transformed. I moved from surviving, and at times barely surviving, to truly thriving.

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For a long time, I told myself that if all of this pain led to something meaningful, it would be worth it. Today, I know what that something is. I found my purpose. And while it was an incredibly tough journey, I am deeply grateful that it now allows me to support others in finding their way back to themselves with compassion, depth, and integrity.