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There are moments in life when vulnerability becomes our greatest strength. This is one such moment for me.
For years, I've facilitated spaces where women gather to heal, share, and grow together, yet I've kept the deepest motivations behind my work carefully guarded. Today, I'm peeling back those layers to reveal the raw, unfiltered truth of my journey.
The Shadows of Childhood
I grew up in a household where the air was thick with tension. Whilst the material basics were provided—food, shelter, warmth—the emotional landscape was barren and often treacherous. My siblings and I became unwitting survivors in the crossfire of a volatile marriage, bearing the scars of physical abuse and emotional neglect that would shape us in ways we couldn't yet comprehend.
I've remained silent about this reality out of a misplaced sense of loyalty. But I've discovered that speaking my truth is not an act of betrayal—it's an act of liberation. Those who choose to remain in my life after hearing it will do so authentically, and those who cannot—well, that's perfectly alright too.
The pattern of abuse shifted when I was 14 years old, when it dawned on me what had been happening at home. It took a conversation with kind hospital staff to spell it out for me—domestic abuse. Before those words were spoken, it was just my reality and as far as I knew, it was normal. Everything changed when I found the courage to use my voice (something I’m still very capable and proud of doing today!) I spoke up about what was happening in our home, and that decision cost me dearly—my teenage years and the relationships with my family which have never been the same since. I became the scapegoat.
The Vulnerable Years
Following on from the horrors of that summer, when I turned 14, I started to rebel. I was angry! I felt let down and abandoned despite doing what I thought was right, to protect my siblings. As I spiralled, I gravitated towards danger, I was desperate to numb the pain and sought solace in the wrong arms.
I can now say out loud that I experienced sexual assault multiple times, by men that should have known better. Sometimes, in a cruel twist of desperation, I placed myself in dangerous situations because home felt equally unsafe. All of this only grew the self-hatred I felt and made me angrier. I realise now I was screaming out for help and for someone to notice me. I slipped through the hands of the safeguarding team at school; thankfully, safeguarding has come a long way since the nineties, but for me, the system failed. I was drinking and misusing drugs at the tender age of 14!
Because of everything happening in my life, I dropped out of school with virtually no qualifications and no friends. I hated myself and had hurt many people—why would anyone stick by me? I watched my peers leave school with ambitions and dreams for their futures while my life was spiralling out of control. Each day felt like sinking deeper into quicksand, with no idea how to pull myself free.
I must acknowledge a difficult truth—I was often horrible and spiteful as a teenager. For years, I carried the crushing weight of self-hatred, convinced that my past defined me irrevocably. The shameful acts I committed have haunted me, propelling me to spend my adult life seeking redemption and reconciliation with my history.
How desperately I wish I could cradle that frightened, angry girl now. I would tell her none of it was her fault. I would absorb her pain and replace it with the understanding that has taken me decades to cultivate.
Early Workplace Trauma
Given all that I had already been through, just as my teenage years were coming to a close, as I transitioned into a late teen in the workplace, the sexual misconduct didn't stop.
When I was 17, I was just starting out in the workplace. I landed my first 'proper' job in a hotel chain in Tunbridge Wells and experienced a horrendous ordeal where I was bullied by a man much older than me, who bullied me, virtually on a daily basis over the course of months. During our Christmas party, he physically attacked me, pushing me onto a pool table, hitting my head and then, when no one else was around, he came on to me! When I found the courage to take it to management, I was not taken seriously. I was told it was just 'his way' and effectively the bully was harder to replace than I was. Then my manager (who was married at the time) suggested he and I should sneak away to one of the other hotels for the weekend—I can only assume for sex and to silence me! - I didn't go! I felt hopeless at that point, so I chose to leave.
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Navigating Difficult Relationships
In my late teens, I thought I'd found my salvation in love. I met my childhood sweetheart, someone I would spend 13 years with. This relationship initially seemed to pull me from the brink—I stepped away from the party drugs that had numbed my pain, and together we achieved what seemed impossible: homeownership when I was just 19, during a time when property prices were soaring through the roof (pun very much intended!).
I remember the overwhelming pride I felt in how far I'd come, in what we'd built together. It felt like concrete proof that my life could be different. Then, like a house of cards in a sudden breeze, it all collapsed. His narcissistic nature emerged in full force—breaking my heart, accumulating gambling debts, and eventually stealing from me and my family. Everything we'd worked so desperately hard for slipped through our fingers. Fate twisted her cruel hands, and he spiralled into an addiction that, even today, still holds him captive to his demons.
It was within this same troubled relationship that I had my wonderful children. The survival instincts forged in the fire of my childhood carried me through those harrowing years until, finally, I found the strength to break free and stand on my own—my children mercifully spared from repeating the cycle that had shaped me. Being a single mum was actually my salvation and with lots of help from my mum and my sister, those early years with my children were both the hardest and best years of my life. I learned to be a woman and as my children got older, I started to weave different, more stable patterns into their childhood, in the hope to break old wounds and generational trauma.
The Shadow Self
The most challenging journey has been learning to forgive myself and practise radical self-compassion. I'm working to extend this compassion to my parents, recognising they too were products of dysfunctional upbringings. However, without accountability, complete forgiveness remains elusive—and I've made peace with that incompleteness.
For my healing journey, I am perfectly comfortable to admit that I haven't forgiven and forgotten. Society often pushes this narrative that to truly heal, we must forgive those who harmed us, but I've found a different path. There's protection and strength in holding onto a small amount of anger and resentment, and that's entirely okay—it keeps me safe and fortifies my boundaries against those who might harm me again.
For those who have been able to make complete peace with their past, I wholeheartedly commend you. That's your journey, and it's valid. But for me, my anger presents itself as a warrior woman that I'm fiercely proud of! She stands guard at the gates of my heart, vigilant and unwavering, ensuring no one can ever again inflict that kind of damage.
There's an ember of anger I consciously preserve. It fuels the boundaries that protect me from further harm. If you harbour similar feelings, please know there's no shame in it. That anger can be powerful when channelled correctly—it can transform into advocacy, into protection for others, into the courage to speak when silence would be easier.
Finding Magic in a Harsh World
In my late thirties, Covid hit and the world seemed to stop spinning. When the world made little sense to me—when its harshness seemed too overwhelming to bear—I discovered something unexpected: magic. Not the illusion kind, but the profound magic that exists in connecting with nature, in ritual, in honouring the sacred feminine that flows through all women. I could create ritual and sanctuary in a world that didn't make sense at the time.
Nature became my sanctuary. The quiet wisdom of trees, the gentle persistence of flowing water, the transformative cycles of the moon—all offered lessons that no human teacher could provide. This deep connection to natural magic helped me piece together my fractured spirit in ways traditional healing never could, and somehow, through magic, I feel I have reconnected to every woman in my timeline, and I am helping to heal their wounds too.
My business is a reflection of this journey—where spirituality meets healing, where ancient wisdom meets modern wounds. Every circle I facilitate, every ritual I share, carries the essence of what saved me during my darkest hours. I am now in the privileged position where I get to work with the most incredible women. We see each other's truths and scars and instead of shying away from them, we embrace them! We are a community of strong, passionate, inspirational women and I couldn't feel any luckier than I already do for being part of their lives and their magic!
Finding Pride in the Journey
Recently, a friend asked after hearing my story, "Are you proud of yourself?"
My response was immediate and genuine: "YES! So deeply and wholeheartedly proud."
All of this has made me the woman I am today, the warrior woman I like to call her. I couldn't be prouder of who I am. I'm a rebel and an activist—my silence as a child has made me value my voice now, and I am not afraid to use it.
As an adult, I've consciously crafted my own reality, surrounding myself with beautiful, authentic, multifaceted souls. This chosen family makes me feel like the most fortunate person alive.
Would I change anything? Perhaps certain behaviours toward others, but I've learned to forgive myself and apologise where necessary—a practice I'm committed to for the rest of my days.
An Invitation to Kindred Spirits
If you've experienced any part of what I've shared—childhood trauma, abusive relationships, workplace harassment, or simply the profound loneliness that comes from hiding your true self—please know that I see you. I recognise your pain because I've lived it.
You are welcome in my circle. Here, you won't need to diminish your struggles or pretend to be "fixed." You can bring your whole, beautiful, complicated self—anger, grief, joy, confusion, and all. Our circle has space for every emotion, every story.
I feel profoundly privileged to work with women, and I intend to continue this sacred work for the rest of my life. There is nothing more powerful than witnessing a woman reclaim her voice, her power, her magic—and knowing I played some small part in creating the safe space for that transformation.
So there it is—my truth. If I've wronged you, I'm truly sorry. If you've shared your truth with me, thank you for that sacred gift. If we've endured harrowing experiences together, I hope you've found safety. If we've created wonderful memories, know that I cherish them deeply. And if you're in my life today, please understand how profoundly I value your presence.
x
Naomi
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