Whether you are dealing with a partner, colleagues, family members, or friends, we create harmonious relationships when we know ourselves better. To achieve that, we must look inward and learn to listen to ourselves. Only when we are intimate with ourselves can we achieve intimacy with others around us.
In our coaching sessions, I help you reconnect with your authenticity. I help you shed what’s not serving you, so you can start feeling like yourself. Say goodbye to your old ways. No more pretending. I will help you experience what it’s like to live truly in your element.
For pricing and more info, please visit my Sessions page.
I believe we, dyslexic people, are creators.
The universe intentionally made it difficult for us to learn from existing content so that we can create something new.
Traditional learning is hard for me.
A large amount of text is daunting and overwhelming for me to read and process, unless I have a personal association and resonance with the subject.
I rarely watch movies.
It takes up too much of my energy.
It’s almost impossible for me to sing along to songs.
I didn’t write the words.
I don’t like templates.
It’s annoying how I have to create pretty much everything from scratch.
I have a hard time remembering tangible details.
This painting of mine is a great example of how I associate people, places, and things with smells, textures, colors, lighting, and feelings.
I express my inner world through creative expressions.
I observe, listen, experience, and make mistakes in real life to earn lessons and knowledge.
I cross the line to know where it is.
I have my own way of seeing and learning.
I wish I could tell my 12-year-old self it’s okay to be unconventional.
In fact, it’s more than okay.
It’s awesome.
My life hit rock bottom a few years ago. In a short time, I experienced COVID, burnout from a long-term career, separation then divorce from an even longer relationship, being blamed for the divorce by my own family who live thousands of miles away, serious health decline caused by malnutrition, and strange autoimmune symptoms. It was like walking through an endlessly dark and gnarly tunnel without a lamp or guide. And for the most part, I went through it alone. I’ve always been an optimist. That’s my natural state. But during the dark tunnel phase, optimism felt too shiny even for me.
At the beginning of my awakening, I was introduced to frequency music to soothe my anxiety. Back then, I was so broken and fragile that I was willing to try anything to feel better. I’d play the music on the speaker, on my noise-cancelling headphones, in my car, and in my sleep. I would start a 10-hour sound healing video on YouTube when I go to bed and wake up to the music. A few days into the routine, I started feeling noticeably lighter. I couldn’t believe it. Since then, sound healing has been a major part of my life. If you think about it, we are all energy. That means we are all frequencies. It only makes sense that when we find the sound in resonance with our energy, we heal.
This morning, I woke up in tears. I’d already been crying in my dream.
In the dream, I was sitting across from my family at a long table, lined with crisp white linen. Me on one side, them on the other side. It felt like me against them. We were in a dining car on a train. The train was running along the coast. Outside the train was a beautiful, peaceful scene. Inside the train, my family was shouting at me. They were saying harsh, heartless things to me, just as they sometimes used to do in the waking life. They took out hefty cooking knives. One by one, they started throwing them at me. “You are crazy!” I shouted at them as I kept dodging the knives in the air. They continued to throw more knives at me. I begged them to stop, but they weren’t listening. They were too busy throwing knives at me.
When I woke up, I felt just… incredibly sad. I was coming to terms with the hurt I felt all my life. I carried their emotional burden on my shoulders. I tolerated their projected pain and anger. These are the things I kept brushing off growing up because I didn’t want to see my family as villains, and I somehow thought I deserved such treatment.
The other day, I heard someone say that most of us don’t hurt each other on purpose. I felt that. My family didn’t intend to hurt me, I’m sure, or I hope. But the damage was made in me. Words were said to me. The dream forced me to relive and feel all those difficult emotions that I didn’t get to accept and feel when I first experienced them. This time, I knew I wasn’t responsible for their emotions. This time, I wasn’t going to protect their feelings over my own.
I stayed in bed for a while to process the dream. I felt more tears in my eyes. I cried a bit more.
I am in the backseat of a Porsche, inside a large warehouse. The place feels like a corn maze, but made with concrete instead. The car is driving itself and about to make a left turn. I quickly hop in the empty driver’s seat, but the seat is pushed way back, to the point my legs can’t reach the pedals. I panic. We are going to crash. Despite my worries, the car turns perfectly, maneuvering carefully and beautifully in the tight space.
