Yvette Lehmann - Transformational Guide & Author

03/05/2026

Sometimes I look back at my life like a path through thick forest and realise how many turns were chosen by other people’s sentences.

The friend who said, “Come to California.”

The man who said, “Move to Canada, you’ll like it there.”

The woman who said, “You should try yoga, it’ll be as hard as your gym workout.”

The stylist who said, “Go to esthetics school, then we’ll open a salon.”

The student who said, “You should teach this, not just take it.”

They probably don’t remember their words the way I do. For them it was a comment in passing. For me it was a doorway into a different lifetime.

To every person who ever whispered an idea into my ear, who pointed out a gate I could walk through, who helped me choose one fork in the road over another: thank you. You have been secret co-authors of my curriculum.

You helped me live the exact life my soul signed up for, even when I had no idea that is what we were doing together.

Sometimes I look back at my life like a path through thick forest and realise how many turns were chosen by other people’s sentences. The friend who said, “Come to California.” The man who said, “Move to Canada, you’ll like it there.” The woman who said, “You should try yoga, it’ll b...

03/03/2026

For a long time my favourite sentences ended with “because.”

I am tired because.
I am guarded because.
I cannot trust because.

All of it was true. My nervous system grew up in a home where my father’s temper filled the room before he did, where my mother learned to brace, where my child-body stored things it did not have words for. Later, more things happened that my mind filed under silence. Pain had more than enough evidence to explain everything about me.

Pain told me why I chose certain partners, why I overgave, why I stayed, why I left, why I worked until my body was empty. It wrote all the footnotes of my life.

And then, slowly, something else began to rise:

What if my story is still true
and I am also responsible for who I become now?

Not responsible as in “at fault.”
Responsible as in “author.”

That is the shift I wrote about in my newest Substack essay:
“When Pain Stops Explaining You.”

It’s not about pretending the past was fine.
It’s about noticing the moment where pain stops being a shield and starts being a cage.

Inside the essay I share:
• how pain can become the main way we recognise ourselves
• why healing often feels like a small death before it feels like freedom
• a simple written practice with one sentence (“I am this way because…”) that can help you glimpse your curriculum underneath the wounds

If you encourage everyone else’s self-work but quietly avoid your own, this might be the one you needed to read.

👉 You can find it here: below

If it lands, please tap the little heart, share it with another strong one, or subscribe so you don’t miss what comes next: more writing about curriculum, nervous systems and remembering why you came here.

The light in me sees and honours the light in you.
Yvette

Why healing feels like death before it feels like coming home to yourself

03/01/2026

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