From Seeking to Safety: Why Healing Didn’t Work Until I Felt Safe

I didn’t grow up feeling safe in my body.
There was a lot I didn’t understand about my experience back then. But what I know now is that my system was in chronic dysregulation. I was highly sensitive, always anxious, possibly autistic, and constantly overwhelmed by the world around me.


I survived by shutting down — becoming the quiet child in the corner who never spoke.


Fortunately, I didn’t develop harmful coping strategies when I became a teenager — probably because alcohol and drugs weren’t accessible to me (being so withdrawn from others). But I did rely on swimming. I trained for up to 20 hours a week. The water helped regulate me.


Later, I found safety in running and long walks. Eventually, I found yoga and meditation.


Around age 29, I started entering spaces that promised transformation — intense Vipassana meditation retreats, breathwork, energy healing workshops, conscious dance, Access Consciousness. I went to workshops where people processed their emotions with such intensity and drama. You name it, I probably tried it at some point.


I’m a Scorpio, so the allure of transformational spaces was strong. I’d often feel more open after these experiences — moments of clarity, insight, even euphoria. But I’d always crash afterward, overwhelmed by waves of emotion, looping in grief, sadness, anger, and fear.


I couldn’t understand why the transformation didn’t stick. So I worked even harder on myself — thinking I just had to process more, go deeper, heal harder. There were times in my life where I spent all day, every day, on healing.


And while there were profound shifts, there was also a constant sense of urgency. I felt pressure to arrive. To wake up. To reach enlightenment. And shame that I wasn’t already further along. I felt like I should be some kind of spiritual master — if effort equalled results.


But really, I was still avoiding the pain of being alive.


The shift came when I stopped trying to arrive. When I stopped seeking. When I actually gave up on healing — on trying to avoid this world. I stopped pushing and making intensity the goal.


The most profound changes happened when I began learning how to feel safe in my body. When I centred nervous system safety above everything else.


That’s when transformation stopped overwhelming me. Letting the healing process slow down — really slow down — to the point where I stopped seeking transformation at all, was, ironically, the most transformative shift of all.


I don’t seek out euphoric experiences anymore. I do far less spiritual healing. And when I do it, I spend time allowing it to integrate before I move onto something else.


I’m very discerning about the spaces I enter now. Most transformational spaces don’t feel safe to my nervous system. But the subtle shifts I experience now are the most profound.


Over time, I’ve become less reactive. Everything feels less urgent. I don’t over-plan or overthink like I used to. I’m more comfortable just showing up and being present. I do less pushing and more surrendering.


I don’t need big breakthroughs to trust the direction I’m moving in.


The evolution of my healing journey is what has inspired my restorative yoga practice.


While my classes used to be about offering more, doing more, being more of service to people (a reflection of where I was — still not feeling like I was enough), now I prioritise creating the conditions for safety — so the body can become a home.


That means I do a lot less. I’m just here, being present with you, creating a space where you can find safety with yourself.


And I trust you. I deeply trust that when you feel safe, your body will know what to do.


Restorative yoga is not a luxury. I think it’s often viewed as one — especially when people are in survival mode. But creating a safe space for yourself to feel what’s present in your body is not indulgent. It’s necessary.


If my journey resonates, I’m offering Restorative Yoga on Fridays & Sundays at 5:15 pm. 🤍