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http://annemarie-soulsanctuary.com/

Soul Sanctuary, 17a Market Place, Heanor (2025)

23/11/2025

For the person who’s held too much for too long….

There are moments in life when your soul just… sags.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
But in that quiet way where something inside you finally admits,
“I can’t hold all of this right now.”

Today someone looked at me and said,
“Be strong.”
And something in me cracked —
not because I can’t be strong,
but because I’ve been strong for so long
that the word itself feels like a weight on my chest.

The truth slipped out of me before I could stop it:
“I don’t want to be strong today.”

And God, it felt real.
Raw.
Uncovered.

Because sometimes life hits you in places you didn’t protect,
with losses you didn’t brace for,
with worries you’ve been swallowing just to get through the day.
And the tiny things — the smallest, most insignificant things —
suddenly feel like the final straw
on a heart that’s already threadbare.

People say “be strong” as if strength is the only acceptable face of survival.
But there is a kind of pain that strength cannot touch.
A kind of heaviness that doesn’t need courage —
it needs softness.
It needs space.
It needs the freedom to fall to your knees without being told to get back up.

There’s a version of me that stands tall.
A version that carries, comforts, rises, rebuilds.

But there is also a version that is tired.
So tired.
The version that whispers the things no one wants to hear:
“I’m overwhelmed.”
“This hurts.”
“I just need a moment where I don’t have to be the strong one.”

And maybe someone else needs to hear this too:

You are allowed to break.
You are allowed to crumble.
You are allowed to not be strong today.

Your humanity is not a failure.
Your softness is not a flaw.
Your exhaustion is not a weakness.

It is your heart asking for gentleness
after a week, a month, a lifetime
of holding more than anyone will ever know.

20/11/2025

✨ From the Woman Who’s Hanging On By a Thread ✨

She’s at the edge.
Not the poetic kind —
the real one.
The one where your chest is tight,
your eyes burn,
and you keep whispering,
“I can’t take much more of this.”

Life has been heavy lately.
Heavier than she admits.
Heavier than anyone realises.
And she’s been doing that quiet kind of surviving —
the kind where you show up,
smile,
keep moving,
while something inside you says,
“Please… just let something lift.”

She’s fragile right now.
The kind of fragile you feel in your bones.
The kind that makes the smallest thing feel like the final straw.
The kind where one more weight, one more word,
might be the thing that finally breaks the part of her that’s been holding everything together.

But here’s the thing about her:

Even at the edge,
even shaking,
even exhausted —
she’s still here.

Still breathing.
Still trying.
Still praying that tomorrow is kinder than today.

And if you’re here too,
standing in your own quiet breaking point,
she wants you to know this:

Feeling like you can’t take much more
doesn’t mean you’re failing.
It means you’ve been carrying far too much
for far too long
with far too little support.

You’re not weak.
You’re hurting.
And hurting humans don’t need strength —
they need space, gentleness, and a hand that doesn’t let go.

You are not alone in this place.
Not now.
Not ever.

18/11/2025

✨ She doesn’t talk about it, but here’s what’s real… ✨

She’s tired of feeling torn in half.

She loves deeply — and when she loves, she gives.
Not because anyone demands it,
but because giving is how she shows care…
even when it leaves her empty.

But nobody sees what it costs her.

They don’t see how she tries to divide her time and energy,
how she tries to stretch herself in two directions at once,
and how guilty she feels for not being able to be everywhere she’s needed.

They don’t see the way she freezes when someone says they’re “disappointed.”
How that word presses on an old wound that never fully healed.
How her whole body reacts when someone gets cross —
how quickly sadness rushes in,
how deeply it cuts because her heart feels everything too deeply.
How it makes her question herself even when she’s giving everything she can.

They don’t see the way she swallows her own needs so she doesn’t upset anyone.
How she bends herself into shapes that leave her aching.
How she tries to make everyone happy…
and ends up the one hurting the most.

She’s the one who absorbs all the emotions in the room —
not because anyone asks her to,
but because that’s how her heart works.
She carries it in her body as if it’s hers to fix.

She’s drowning quietly.
Smiling softly.
Trying to hold everything together…
while silently wondering when she’ll stop being last on her own list.

But here’s what she’s finally realising:

She doesn’t have to split herself in two to prove her love.
She doesn’t have to carry guilt for being human.
She’s allowed to take a breath, take a step back,
and choose herself without feeling like she’s failing anyone.

She’s learning that choosing herself
is not a betrayal —
it’s a beginning.

And that changes everything. ✨

16/11/2025

When she hears that word, it hurts in a way she wishes she could forget.
It doesn’t just land — it hits her whole body.
A sudden jolt.
A tightening in her chest.
A drop in her stomach that feels impossible to stop.
Her whole system reacts before she can even make sense of it.

Because that word doesn’t come to her as just a word.
It carries history.
It carries tone.
It carries the memory of moments where it was used not to communicate,
but to wound.

It takes her back to the times it was delivered with precision —
not shouted,
not emotional,
but calm.
So calm it almost felt rehearsed.
Those moments when someone she loved sat across from her
and explained, in detail,
exactly how much of a disappointment she was.
Point by point.
Reason by reason.
Not to help her grow,
but to make sure she understood the weight of their disapproval.
That quiet, measured delivery cut far deeper than anger ever could.
And her body has never forgotten it.

So now, even when the word is spoken softly,
even when no harm is intended,
it slices through her the same way.
It knows exactly where to land.
Exactly where the old wound still lives.
And instantly, she’s pulled back —
into the heaviness,
into the fear,
into the dark place she spent years clawing her way out of.

She hates that it still has power over her.
She hates how quickly the shame rises,
how fast her breath shortens,
how her heart reacts as if the past is happening all over again.
She hates knowing that one word can still tear open a wound
she thought she had finally healed.

But the truth is simple:
that word became a weapon long before today.
And her heart still flinches like it’s bracing for impact every time it appears.

It’s only one word to them… but to her, it’s the moment she felt herself dying on the inside while he calmly explained why she deserved it

And each time she heals another piece of what was shattered, she steps closer to the woman her soul always knew she’d be. 🕊️

16/11/2025

She hates that no one warned her this would happen —
that the moment life finally stops hurting,
her body starts to.

The crushing exhaustion.
The nausea that comes out of nowhere.
The chest that feels heavy.
The aches that feel older than her whole life.
The anxiety that makes no sense in a room that’s finally safe.

And she keeps asking herself:
Why now?
Why here?
Why when everything is finally steady?

But She — the deeper, shadow-heavy She —
cuts through everything with the truth she never wanted to face:

Your body isn’t reacting to peace.
It’s reacting to the space peace created.

She wasn’t allowed to fall apart back then.
She didn’t have support.
She didn’t have time.
She didn’t have safety.
She had to keep moving through things that should have broken her.
She had to swallow pain she never had the freedom to express.

Her system didn’t “store trauma” because she’s weak —
it buried it because she had no choice.

And now — for the first time — she isn’t fighting for her life.
There’s finally stillness.
Finally breath.
Finally room.

And in that room, everything she pushed down…..rises.

Not because peace is threatening.
Not because calm is scary.
But because she finally has the capacity
to feel what she survived.

That’s why it hits like illness.
Like panic.
Like grief with no name.
Like her system is falling apart.

It’s not malfunction —
it’s backlog.

Every tremor.
Every heavy limb.
Every ache with no explanation.
Every wave of fear that doesn’t match the moment.

This is what happens
when a woman finally has room
to stop pretending she’s fine.

And She tells her —
dark, blunt, and honest:

Your body isn’t betraying you.
It’s finally speaking.
And truth — real truth —
shakes on its way out.

09/11/2025

From HER, the empath

She feels everything —
too much, sometimes.

A room doesn’t have to speak for her to hear it.
Energy hits her body before words ever reach her ears.

She can feel the shift in someone’s tone,
the tightening in their chest,
the frustration they don’t want to admit.

Sometimes she even feels their emotions
before they realise what they’re feeling.

It’s not a trauma response.
It’s not because she’s broken.
It’s because her soul was born wide open.

Being an empath is a gift,
but no one tells you how heavy a gift can feel.

Because when someone’s mood drops,
her body reacts like it’s happening inside her own skin.

She absorbs it.
She carries it.
She bleeds with emotions that don’t belong to her.

And when the energy becomes too loud—
she doesn’t slam doors, or shout, or demand to be seen.

She disappears.

Not forever.
Just long enough to find herself again.

She gets quiet.
Withdraws.
Goes inward.

And the world thinks she’s distant.
Cold.
Punishing.

But they don’t understand:

Her silence is not a weapon.
It’s her oxygen.

She’s not shutting people out —
she’s trying not to drown.

She loves deeply.
So deeply that she needs space to remember where she ends
and someone else’s emotions begin.

She doesn’t retreat because she’s fragile.

She retreats because she’s sacred.

Her sensitivity is not weakness.
It is wisdom.

It is her body whispering:

“This feeling is not yours to carry.”

And every time she returns from the quiet,
she comes back softer, clearer, more whole.

Her withdrawal is not rejection.
It’s restoration.

If someone loves her, they won’t demand she stay “on.”
They’ll honour her stillness.

Because loving an empath means learning
to respect the moments when she turns inward —
to protect the gift that is her heart.

07/11/2025

There’s something I’ve learned about manifestation that I want to share —
not from theory, not from books,
but from lived experience.

Many years ago, I was given a vision.

I saw myself standing with the man I loved —
not just someone I wanted,
but someone my soul already recognized.

It wasn’t a fantasy.
It wasn’t desperation.
It was knowing.

And then…
life got quiet.

Nothing happened.

There were years where the vision looked ridiculous.
Years where I cried because nothing matched what I was shown.
Years of heartbreak, confusion, detours, and straight-up silence from the universe.

I questioned everything.

“Did I make it up?”
“Did I misunderstand?”
“Why would I be shown something so beautiful if it wasn’t going to happen?”

But here’s what I learned:

The vision is never given to match your present reality.
It’s given to grow you into the version of yourself who can hold it.

The waiting shaped me.
The doubt strengthened me.
The delays prepared me.

And then —
when I least expected it —
when I had surrendered and chosen peace over panic…
he arrived.

The love of my life.

Not a halfway match.
Not almost.
Not ‘close enough.’

He was the vision — in human form.

It was incredible.

We grew. We healed. We fought for what mattered.
There were still challenges.
There were moments I thought the universe had changed its mind.

But the vision stayed.
And so did I.

And now, with just over 2 weeks to go…

We are getting married.

The vision that once existed only in my heart
is about to become my reality.

If you are waiting on your miracle, hear this:

When nothing is happening, everything is happening.
You are being prepared, aligned, refined.

Hold the vision.
Trust the timing.
Don’t settle for almost.

What is meant for you will not pass you by.

Sometimes the universe makes you wait —
not because it’s withholding,
but because it’s perfecting.

I am living proof that what you saw —
what you felt —
what your soul whispered…

was real.

✨ Keep believing when there is no evidence.
✨ Keep trusting when it makes no sense.
✨ Keep the vision alive, even in the silence.

Because one day, you’ll wake up and realize:

The miracle didn’t happen to you.
It happened through you.

And you’ll be living the moment you were once only shown 🤍

05/11/2025

That moment when you realise you were always enough 💫

04/11/2025

The Turning Point

For the woman who’s been told in a hundred subtle ways that she’s too much, not enough, or somehow wrong just for being herself—
this one is your reclamation.

When she finally saw how deeply she’d believed she wasn’t enough,
it broke her.
Not because of what they’d done—
but because of how she had treated herself.
The way she’d ignored her own needs,
silenced her own voice,
settled for crumbs and called it love.

She was furious.
Ashamed.
Heart-sick at how easily she’d abandoned herself just to be chosen.

And in that moment, something snapped awake inside her.

No more.
No more apologising for existing.
No more begging to be seen.
No more pretending she’s fine while she bleeds for everyone else’s comfort.

The part of her that thought she had to earn love is gone.
She buried her with every lie that said she was less.

From here on, she stands with herself.

She is not asking to be enough anymore—
she knows she is.
And God help anyone who ever tries to make her forget it again. 🔥

This is the beginning of the woman who remembers her power

04/11/2025

The “I’m Not Enough” Wound

It hits deep — not just in the mind, but in the body.
That ache in your chest. The heat in your throat. The feeling of shrinking, disappearing, being unseen again.

It’s not just this moment.
It’s every moment before it — every time you were overlooked, dismissed, replaced, or betrayed.
Every time someone’s words or silence confirmed the fear that maybe you were never enough to stay for.

You can tell yourself it’s different now.
You can believe them when they say “it’s innocent.”
But your nervous system remembers what your heart went through.
And in that moment, you’re not reacting to them — you’re reacting to every version of you that was never chosen.

This is the wound that whispers, “You’re not enough.”
And it’s the one that makes you question everything.

But healing begins the moment you recognise it.
When you pause instead of spiral.
When you notice the ache, the tightening, the stories returning — and you say, “I see you.”

That’s where the shift begins.

Every day, remind yourself — I am enough right now.
Not when you’ve healed it all. Not when they love you better. Now.

Look for the moments that prove it.
The times you were kind. The times you kept going. The times you loved even when it hurt.
These are your quiet pieces of evidence — sacred proof that you’ve always been enough.

Keep noticing them. Keep collecting them.
That’s how you rewire the story.

Because little by little, you start to feel it:
You were never unworthy — only unseen.
And now, you’re the one who finally sees you.

And from this moment forward,
Refuse to shrink, to beg, or to question your worth ever again —
because you’re done accepting “not enough.”

Say:
I am more than enough.
Always have been. Always will be. 🔥

03/11/2025

💫 Motivation Monday

Energetic Independence

For the woman who’s exhausted from pretending she’s okay —
who’s smiling through the panic, holding it all together while quietly falling apart inside.

For the one who’s sick of being strong,
sick of scraping by,
sick of feeling like freedom is always one step out of reach.

I see you.

You don’t need another spreadsheet, another “mindset” hack, or another person telling you to just think positive.
You need to feel safe again.

Safe in your body.
Safe in your choices.
Safe to breathe without guilt, cry without shame, and trust that you are held — even here.

That’s where energetic independence begins.
Not in your bank account.
In your nervous system. In your heart.

It’s the moment you whisper, “I’m done abandoning myself.”
The moment you stop waiting for rescue and start reclaiming your power —
one breath, one decision, one tiny act of self-trust at a time.

Because freedom isn’t out there somewhere.

It starts here, in you.

✨ Freedom begins in your energy.

03/11/2025

When Peace Breaks Open

Sometimes peace doesn’t shatter to destroy you —
it cracks open to reveal where you were never standing fully on your own.

You think you’ve healed it.
You think it’s done.
Then one word, one look, one breath
and the old ache hums beneath your skin again.

It’s not punishment.
It’s revelation.

The Universe whispers:

“See, love — this is where you still hand your power away.
Where you wait for someone else’s calm
before you allow your body to relax,
before you trust that you’re safe again.”

And it’s brutal, because you thought you were safe.
But peace that depends on another’s calm
isn’t peace — it’s a borrowed quiet.

So you breathe through the shaking.
You let the ache tell its truth.
And instead of reaching outward,
you reach inward —
back to the part of you that has never left,
never wavered,
never needed proof to exist.

You remember that you are the home your heart has been waiting for.
That you can hold yourself steady
even when someone else trembles.

This is where Energetic Independence is born —
in the moment you stop asking the world to make you feel safe,
and begin breathing safety back into your own body.

That’s where BLISS begins. 🌙

Soul Sanctuary

23/11/2025

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Tuesday	9am - 3pm
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Thursday	9am - 5:30pm
Friday	9am - 8pm
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