11/01/2026
For a long time, I lived in my head,
pushing through, trying to cope, trying to hold it all together. Anxious, depressed, I was deeply out of touch with myself and my needs.
From the outside, I may have looked like I was functioning, capable, like I had my s**t together.
Honestly, there were probably many times I looked like a complete mess.
Inside, my body was carrying far more than my mind could name.
There were many moments I found myself asking, 'Why am I like this?', 'Why can't I get my s**t together'?
I didn’t need more advice.
I didn’t need to be fixed.
What I really needed was support —
support from someone who understood where I was at and could walk alongside me, offering guidance and tools when I needed them.
I found an incredible coach, and I am deeply grateful for her.
What I needed was space.
Space to come back into my body — slowly, safely, and in my own time.
My healing didn’t begin with answers.
It began with listening.
Through the body.
Through the nervous system.
Through creativity, movement, stillness, and time on the land.
Through weaving — literally and metaphorically — learning that healing isn’t about pulling threads out, but gently weaving them back together.
Weaving Holistic Wellness was born from this knowing.
From knowing that you don’t need to be rushed, analysed, or pushed through healing.
You need to be supported.
You need space to arrive in your body in your own time.
You need to be met.
Held.
Given permission to soften, feel, and reconnect with their own wisdom.
My work is for those who are tired of holding it all alone.
Who feel disconnected from their bodies.
Who are trying to cope, trying to function, and often putting everyone else’s needs before their own.
Here, we work slowly.
Through somatic therapy, embodiment, creativity, and nature-based practices.
We listen to the body, honour cycles, and move at the pace of your nervous system.
This isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about coming home to yourself —
and weaving a life that feels grounded, supported, and true.
If something in my story feels familiar, I see you.