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Create Healing, Bauple (2026)

23/05/2026

The last few weeks have been a pretty huge reset for me.

What started as pain, nausea and exhaustion ended with emergency gallbladder surgery after a stone became lodged in the duct. Physically, I’m recovering well… but honestly the deeper healing feels much bigger than the operation itself.

In many energetic traditions, the gallbladder and solar plexus are connected with resentment, anger, over-functioning, control, identity and how we relate to personal power and the masculine.

Whether you view that symbolically, spiritually or psychologically… it definitely made me pause.

Because this season of my life has been full of:

- releasing old relationship dynamics
- learning healthier boundaries
- stepping out of survival mode
- recognising how much hypervigilance my body has been carrying
- and realising I’ve spent so long being “needed” that I’m now rediscovering who I am underneath the roles of mum, carer, helper and emotional support human 😅

Recovery has been humbling.

Not just physically… but mentally and emotionally too.

I’ve had to slow down.
Receive help.
Rest without “earning” it.
Allow people to care for me.
And sit in the strange quiet that comes when the constant stress and chaos starts fading.

There’s a version of me shedding right now.
And while I don’t fully know the new version yet… I already know I don’t want to go back to the old one.

So for now, I’m pacing myself.
Listening to my body.
Learning what actually nourishes me.
And allowing this next chapter to unfold a little more gently.

Healing isn’t always dramatic.
Sometimes it’s just finally stopping long enough to hear yourself clearly.

☀️

09/05/2026

Mason’s been asking for days off school a fair bit lately.

Not in a dramatic “I hate school” way. More in that quiet exhausted little-kid way where you can feel something’s just… off.

Anyway this week he ended up with a head cold and looked at me completely seriously and said:

“I guess my body thinks I need a day off too Mum.”

Mate.
Nothing prepares you for your child accidentally sounding like a burnt out 42-year-old project manager 😂

And honestly, it hit me harder than I expected.

Because I’ve been watching this beautiful, clever, creative kid slowly start worrying about disappointing grown-ups at eight years old.

This is a kid who:

- learns incredibly quickly when he’s engaged
- can remember insane details about motorbikes
- learns physically and creatively
- thrives with connection and one-on-one attention

…but put him in a classroom environment where attention is constantly being redirected and shared across 25 kids and suddenly he’s:

- distracted
- “disruptive”
- mentally elsewhere
- falling behind in areas he’s absolutely capable of.

And before anyone says “kids just need discipline” — calm down Darren 😂

Nobody’s saying kids shouldn’t learn:

- reading
- resilience
- responsibility
- follow through

Of course they should.

But I’m starting to realise some kids learn those things through:

- connection
- rhythm
- humour
- movement
- creativity
- emotional safety

…not through pressure and repetition alone.

And I think part of why this journey has hit me so deeply is because while trying to understand Mason… I’ve accidentally started understanding myself too.

Because somewhere between:

- supporting Beth through health stuff
- navigating separation
- carrying years of stress
- helping everyone else regulate
- and trying to hold the whole emotional circus together

…I’ve started realising my own brain may not exactly be running the standard operating system either 🫠

Which explains a bloody lot honestly.

Like:

- why I start twelve projects at once
- why mess instantly feels emotionally charged
- why I can deeply analyse society at 2am but forget why I walked into the kitchen
- why I overexplain things when I care
- and why I somehow become both incredibly insightful AND completely overwhelmed by a lunchbox.

A true skillset.

And the biggest thing I’m learning lately?

You can understand nervous systems and still get dysregulated yourself.

You can love your kid deeply and still internally lose patience after the fifteenth reminder to put shoes on.

You can be reflective, emotionally aware and genuinely trying your best… and still end up crying to livestock because life got too loud.

The cows have heard things.

What’s shifting for me now though is that instead of trying to force Mason harder into the mould, I’m becoming more curious about:

“How do I help him learn to function in the world without disconnecting from himself in the process?”

Because I don’t want him growing up believing his worth only comes from productivity.

I want him to know:

- creativity matters
- rest matters
- curiosity matters
- connection matters

…and yes unfortunately, eventually you still still have to answer emails and pay rego.

Balance 😂

Anyway if anyone needs me, I’ll be outside lying on a towel in swimmers letting the kids paint me like a human Picasso exhibit while I attempt to heal several generations of “don’t make a mess” conditioning.

Wish me luck.

26/03/2026

There’s a difference I didn’t understand for a long time…

Between thinking about how I feel
and actually processing what I feel.

For years, I thought I was doing the work.

I could analyse everything.
Explain it.
Make sense of it.
Find patterns.

But my body was still tense.
My nervous system was still on edge.
And the same emotions kept coming back.

Because I wasn’t processing them…

I was interpreting them.

---

The shift for me has been learning that:

«Emotional processing doesn’t happen in the mind.
It happens in the body.»

It’s the difference between:

- telling the story
vs
- feeling the sensation

---

Recently I’ve noticed something really interesting.

Thoughts come up… and instead of pulling me into a spiral, they just pass.

Sometimes I’ll even go to speak or type them out —
and my body just goes:

“nah, not needed”

And then I’ll feel it physically move…

A softening in my chest.
A release in my throat.
Even little shifts in my gut.

No story.
No analysis.

Just… done.

---

What’s changed?

Not the thoughts.

My nervous system.

When we’re in a constant state of stress,
our body stays in survival mode.

So everything gets processed through:

- urgency
- overthinking
- trying to solve the feeling

But when the nervous system is more regulated…

The body can actually complete the emotion.

Without needing the story.

---

This is why things like:

- movement
- breath
- rest
- feeling safe in your environment

matter so much more than we realise.

Because they create the conditions where:

«you don’t have to think your way through emotions anymore»

---

I used to believe I needed to understand everything to move through it.

Now I’m learning:

«I just need to feel it… and let my body do what it already knows how to do.»

---

And the wild part?

It’s actually easier.

---

Curious if anyone else has noticed this shift…
from thinking → feeling → releasing?

14/03/2026

For a long time I jokingly called myself the “logistics manager” of my life… but if I’m honest, there was a period where that role felt pretty soul-crushing.

I’ve always been a creative person. I love experiences, connection, ideas, art, conversation, music, movement — the spaces where people come alive. But somewhere along the way life became more about keeping everything running than actually living it.

School mornings, schedules, responsibilities, finances, parenting, work, emotional labour… I slowly stepped into the role of the one who held everything together. And the more I managed the logistics, the less space there seemed to be for creativity and play.

Recently I had a bit of a realisation while reflecting on parenting Mason.

When he was little we naturally did a lot of things that built connection and joy — adventures, silly games, exploring, creating, just being together. As school started and life got busier, I noticed our time together slowly shifted into instructions and routines… the “get ready”, “pack up”, “we’re late” kind of interactions.

What I realised is that both kids and adults need dopamine from many different sources to feel balanced and regulated — movement, novelty, mastery, connection, creativity. When life gets heavy on responsibility, those sources can quietly disappear and we all end up running on empty.

The beautiful thing about awareness is that it brings compassion.

I can now see that over the years I stepped into the logistics role because it was what the family needed at the time. And I can also see that everyone in the system was doing the best they could with the tools they had. There’s no blame in that — just growth.

This season of life is inviting something different.

More creativity.
More connection.
More play.
More spaces where regulation happens naturally through movement, expression and shared experiences.

For Mason that looks like making sure we prioritise one-on-one connection, adventure and creativity so his brain learns there are many ways to feel good and regulated beyond devices.

For me it looks like stepping back into my creative energy — art, sound, conversation, community spaces and the healing work I love so much.

Sometimes life brings big changes not because something went wrong, but because we’ve grown enough to see new patterns and choose differently.

And that feels like a really beautiful place to begin again.

20/02/2026

I had a powerful reminder this week of how clearly the body speaks — and how easy it is to ignore it.
My digestion slowed right down after being unwell.

When I ate too much, too soon, my body didn’t quietly tolerate it.

It created pressure. Pain. Gas. Eventually, it rejected what it couldn’t process.

Not because my body was broken.

Because it was protecting me.

It made me reflect on how often we do the same thing in life — taking in more than our nervous system can comfortably digest.

More stress. More emotional load. More expectations. More noise.

And instead of listening to the early signals, we override them.

Until the signals get louder.

Many people live with constant signs from their nervous system and don’t realise what they mean:

• Feeling tired but wired at night

• Waking between 2–4am and unable to settle

• Tight jaw, neck, or shoulders

• Digestive discomfort, bloating, or nausea

• Irritability over small things

• Brain fog or difficulty focusing

• Feeling flat, disconnected, or emotionally numb

• Losing appetite — or overeating for comfort

• Needing constant distraction or stimulation

These aren’t character flaws.

They are communication.

Your nervous system is always asking one simple question:

Do I have the capacity for what I’m holding right now?

When the answer is no, the most intelligent thing you can do is not push harder — it’s to reduce the load. Gentler inputs.

More space. More rest. More safety.

Just like recovering digestion, capacity returns naturally when the system feels supported.

The body doesn’t need forcing. It needs listening.
What’s one signal your body has been trying to show you lately?

15/02/2026

This year has been a shedding.

Not loud or dramatic all the time—often quiet, uncomfortable, and deeply personal. I’ve learned to stay with my emotions instead of running from them. To sit with grief, anger, and uncertainty long enough to hear what they were trying to show me.

I used to think strength was pushing through or staying busy. Now I see strength as staying present… even when I feel rattled, even when my nervous system is dysregulated, even when it would be easier to distract or numb.

This was the year I stopped abandoning myself when things got uncomfortable.

And in doing that, I’ve found a steadiness inside myself that no external situation can really take away.

If this past year has asked you to shed old skins too, you’re not alone. 💛

10/02/2026

Integration is staying.

I came across these words today and they landed deeply. Lately I’ve been noticing what it actually means to stay—with emotions, with sensations in my body, with truths that are uncomfortable, and with the parts of myself that used to want to escape or rush to resolution.

Something I’ve learned, both personally and through my work, is this:

We can’t truly process emotions until the nervous system feels safe enough to allow it.

If the body is in fight, flight, or freeze, it’s not that we’re avoiding feelings… the system simply isn’t ready to metabolise them yet. Regulation has to come first.

Sometimes staying doesn’t mean diving into the emotion straight away.
Sometimes it means breathing, walking, moving, resting, or simply sitting quietly until the body softens a little.

And then the feelings move on their own.

Staying with anger without turning it into harm.
Staying with grief without collapsing.
Staying with desire without apology.
Staying with yourself when old exits appear.

That’s the work.

Recently I’ve been practicing this in real time—staying present with big shifts in my life, noticing sensations in my body, letting thoughts come and go without grabbing hold of them, allowing connections and experiences to unfold without forcing outcomes.

Integration isn’t dramatic.

It’s subtle, steady, and deeply honest.
I know many people are navigating heavy emotional landscapes at the moment, and sometimes what helps most is simply having someone listen or offer perspective.

I’m opening space for a small number of conversations each week for anyone who is struggling, curious, or wanting guidance around regulation, emotional processing, or reconnecting with themselves. I’m not opening my books fully right now, but I do have room for a few people who feel drawn to reach out.

You’re welcome to message me privately if that feels supportive.

04/02/2026

Lately I’ve had a quiet but profound realisation about love, energy, and self-respect.

For a long time, my love existed as something available — open, ambient, and offered outward. I believed that keeping my heart wide was the same as staying connected. What I didn’t see at first was how much of myself I was continually extending into spaces that didn’t have the capacity to truly meet me.

Not through rejection.

But through subtle limitation.

I’ve come to understand that love doesn’t need to be poured endlessly to be real. It doesn’t need to be accessed, requested, or proven. Love simply is — and it remains intact even when we redefine how our energy is exchanged.

This isn’t about closing the heart or withdrawing care.

It’s about coherence.

When we offer our whole field into relationships that can only receive through narrow channels, we slowly drain ourselves — not because others are taking too much, but because we are giving more surface area than there is reciprocity for.
What’s shifted for me is this:

I’m no longer offering my entire self by default.
My love remains constant, surrounding those I care about. But the way I exchange energy now is more intentional, more aligned with reality rather than hope. I’m meeting people where they are — not where I wish they could be.

And something beautiful happened when I allowed that shift.

There was no collapse.

No bitterness.

Just relief.

My energy returned to me.
My nervous system settled.
My heart stayed open — without effort.

This feels like a maturation of love.

Love without over-reaching.

Care without self-abandonment.
Presence without performance.

If this resonates, maybe it’s an invitation to ask: Where might your love be asked to exist — rather than be endlessly accessed?
🤍

21/01/2026

A little personal context…

Over the last four months, my life has been a very real, very human crash course in the difference between nervous system regulation and emotional processing.

On the outside, it looked like a relationship ending.
On the inside, it was my body finally coming out of survival.

For a long time, my focus wasn’t on understanding what went wrong or fixing anything.
It was simply learning how to stay regulated while everything was falling apart.

Breathing.
Grounding.
Slowing my reactions.

Letting my system settle enough to get through co-parenting, conversations, and the day-to-day reality of change (let's be honest sometimes not doing this very well).

And that mattered more than I realised at the time.

Because once my nervous system stopped being constantly activated, something else happened.
The emotions I hadn’t been able to feel inside the relationship started to arrive — not as overwhelm, but in waves I could actually stay present with.

Grief.
Anger.
Disappointment.
Relief.

Not all at once.

Not dramatically.

Just honestly.

I could finally see patterns without needing to defend them.

Feel feelings without collapsing into them.
Let things complete instead of looping.
That’s when it really clicked for me:

Regulation created the safety.

Processing happened because the safety was there.

And if I’m honest, there were moments where I felt calm but strangely flat — like my system was stable, but waiting.

Now I understand that wasn’t being stuck.
That was integration catching up.

I’m still moving through it.

Still human.

Still learning in real time.

But I trust my body more than ever — and I trust that when emotions surface now, it’s because I’m finally safe enough to meet them 🤍

Love to you all Sarah

21/01/2026

Do you ever feel…

• “Fine” but flat
• Calm, yet stuck
• Like you’re repeating the same patterns without any real resolution

If so, there’s a good chance you’ve actually done something right — not wrong.
Because many people in this place have learned how to regulate their nervous system…
but haven’t yet been supported to process what’s stored underneath.

And those two things are related — but they are not the same.

Nervous system regulation is about safety.
It’s your body answering the question:

“Am I okay right now?”

Regulation helps you: • Come out of fight, flight, or freeze

• Calm anxiety and overwhelm
• Feel more present and grounded
• Function day to day without constantly being triggered

When your nervous system is regulated, your body is no longer in survival mode.

That’s huge. And necessary.
But regulation doesn’t automatically resolve what happened in the past.

You can be regulated and still feel emotionally flat.
You can be calm and still replay the same relationship dynamics.

You can understand your patterns logically and yet keep living them.

That’s where emotional processing comes in.
Emotional processing is about completion.
It’s the body finally having enough safety to feel what it couldn’t feel at the time.

Processing allows: • Grief that was postponed to move through

• Anger that was suppressed to release
• Sadness, fear, or longing to be acknowledged
• Old emotional charge to soften and integrate

Regulation creates the safety.
Processing uses the safety.

And this is where many people get confused.
If you try to process emotions without regulation, it can feel overwhelming, destabilising, or retraumatising.

If you only regulate and never process, life can start to feel:
• Stable but stagnant
• Peaceful but muted
• Controlled rather than alive

Nothing is “wrong” — something just hasn’t had space to complete.

Healing isn’t about staying calm at all costs.
And it’s not about diving endlessly into emotional depth either.

It’s the gentle movement between the two:
Regulate the body
Allow emotions to process in small, safe doses
Return to regulation

Over and over, as your system is ready.
So if you’re in a season where you feel okay but not fulfilled, settled but not free — it might not be a block.

It might simply be that your nervous system is finally saying: “I’m safe enough now. Something deeper can move.”

And that’s not something to force.

It’s something to meet with patience, curiosity, and care 💛

Create Healing

23/05/2026

09/05/2026

26/03/2026

14/03/2026

20/02/2026

15/02/2026

10/02/2026

04/02/2026

21/01/2026

21/01/2026

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