How The Wild Came To Be

I remember the day like it was yesterday, sliding down a slippery slope of negativity and overwhelm.  My life had been crumbling for some time, really, but I had managed to keep the worst at bay.

It started with a weekend event of self exploration.  I was stressed. All. The. Time. I was angry. All. The. Time. I had nothing to lose.  I needed something.  I didn’t know what but I knew I couldn’t keep going the way I had been.

A light was turned on.  A new way of thinking.  I fell into it. I started doing personal development. Therapy. Exploration.  I hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

After a year of self exploration, I was feeling great and attended a new conference. I was on top of the world. But something shifted on the last day.  An encounter with a stranger.  Brief.  A moment.  In an instant I felt the world spinning.  He said “I hope your husband knows how lucky he is” and I thought – it’s not him that needs to know, it’s me. I don’t know how good I am.  I don’t see myself that way – as someone important, someone worth something.

I couldn’t get myself right after that.  All of the tools I had and I couldn’t shake that feeling.  In one way I was on top of the world.  In another a new crumble had started.  Funny enough, at the time I was about to move my first business TW Fitness into a new place. I was excited about the plans to move forward.

But everything started to fall apart with one experience that left me scared, unsure and opening up pandora’s box.

While running I had a weird experience that felt my body cold. Running was meditation to me.  Movement was my medicine.  But this day it felt like I wasn’t there anymore, running.  I was on a stage, somewhere else, speaking publicly about my sexual abuse as a child.

As suddenly as it happened it was gone.  And I was left started, overwhelmed and not quite understanding.  I had never spoken about that.  And I never would.  Why would that happen? Why would I “think” that?

The more I ran the more of these experiences that started to happen. The more I felt scared about running – what had long since been my coping tool.  I became scared to run… it seemed like I had these visions and experiences where I couldn’t remember where I was, and it felt REAL.

I stopped running. Then it started to happen when I was working out.

So I stopped working out.

Over the course of 3 months life went rapidly down hill.  I couldn’t get energy to do the things I loved.  My passion was gone.  My plans for the future unravelling as the past came back to haunt me.

I knew I needed help but therapy had never worked.  I didn’t feel like medication was the right fit for me. So I went for alternative therapy.  I went to a shaman. I was in distress, emotional distress.  I was lost. I hurting. Alone. Scared.

I didn’t want to talk about what happened to me.  I wanted it to go back into the box where I had put it all those years ago. During those sessions I would release so much stuff.  It was a safe place to do it.  To say what I was really feeling.

After each session I would go home and do the work I had been learning from my life coaches.  I felt like I was getting somewhere.

Writing became my solace.  Writing to release, writing to explore, writing to write.  It poured out of me, a direct connection to my pain, but with each layer released, a direct connection to my soul,

As I struggled so deeply with my story, with sharing what happened to me, with allowing people to see my brokenness, fear of judgement for me, my family, fearing that it would taint or scar me.

Mostly I was scared of oversharing.  Of being “that girl” who told too much, shared too much, the “too much” girl.

I lived my life lanes.  I became what others needed or wanted me to become. I flew under the radar, became the don’t give a fuck girl, hide myself, pretended and wore masks to hide the real me. Patterns and habits of checking out, disconnecting were created to save me in the short term but only served to kill me in the long term.

As I uncovered the layers and learned to fully release the experiences, what I made them mean, deal with my belief systems, fear, triggers, and who I had become as a result of my abuse.

Now it was time to unbecome all that wasn’t me.

Then I had to almost raise myself again.  I had to find my voice, what I liked, what I didn’t  like, what I believed in and didn’t believe in. I had to find my instincts and power.  I had to remember who I was and what I was capable of.  I had to remember that my pain had created an indomitable spirit inside of me, a strength that I didn’t know I was capable of.

And in that I remembered my wild nature. My instincts, my boundaries, my love, my passion, my ability.  I connected to my soul and in that connection I was able to find me, the real me, the one I had lost or never had the option to fully become, not entirely.

I was overcome with love, for myself, for life, for my experiences, for what made me, me.  I could see that all roads were leading me somewhere I didn’t want to go but I knew I would.  It was as if something was propelling me.

I didn’t want to go but I did.  Each step further into this place of connection, of soul, of truth, of healing or empowerment left me unchained – unchained from the experiences of my life, unchained from others expectations, unchained from the fear.

I could find truth in that space. And that had become the most important thing for me. I had lived a lie until now.  Not one person in my life knew me.  None of my friends, not my clients, not the people who I worked to help and inspire daily. Not my husband.

I was not living in truth.

And that truth was desperately clawing it’s way out of me.  Somehow it escaped. Bit by bit it slipped out.  To my husband. Friends. Family. And eventually the world, or at least my corner of it.

And nothing bad happened.  In fact, more good happened.  People began whispering to me “me, too”.  People began telling me their own stories of struggle and hardship.  People started to realize that if I could do this, so could they.

And the wild was born.

The wild was born because of not listening to the old rules of what we are allowed to share, who we need to become, what we need to do, what we’re allowed to talk about.  The wild was born from immense pain turned into power.

The wild is a place that exists within each of us. The journey to the wild is to clear away what’s stopping you from knowing yourself and being yourself.  The wild is underneath the conditioning, it’s underneath the misguided beliefs, it’s underneath your fear.

The wild is where you instincts, your truth, your passion, your gifts live. The wild is your soul. The wild is your boundaries and your love and your ability to live fully, alive, each day.  The ability to go beyond what’s happened to you, around you or what the world has told you that you need to be, say or do in order to be accepted, loved, belong.

Because it’s none of that.

The wild is within you.  It’s a place that is different for each of us and in that place we know who we are, what the next right move is.  It’s not a place in your head but a place in your heart, in your soul, a place that is beyond physical and mental and emotional. It’s not a place where others tell you who to be, what to do.

And it’s gotten to by getting to your truth, by facing your scars, your wounds, your conditioning, your beliefs, all things that aren’t yours that you’ve accumulated on this journey of life.

Take the journey, wild one.  Trust me, if I can do it, so can you.  And I’d be honoured to walk the path with you.



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