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Shoshen Holistic Healing, South Shields (2025)

26/07/2025

🌀 Fear Series – Day 6: Fear of Asking for Help

This one’s been stitched into my identity for as long as I can remember.

Asking for help?
That felt like weakness.
Like handing someone evidence that I couldn’t cope.
Like saying, I can’t do it — and I hated how that sounded.

So I didn’t ask.
I coped.
I carried it.
Even when I was breaking.

⸻

💭 Where it came from

When you grow up being told you’re dramatic, too sensitive, or “fine” when you clearly weren’t —
you learn that your needs don’t matter.
You learn to not need at all.

Add in undiagnosed ADHD, a lifetime of trying to keep up, and that hyper-awareness of being a burden…
and you start relying on yourself for everything.

Because relying on others never felt safe.
Being vulnerable rarely ended in comfort.
And so you learn to handle it.
Quietly. Internally. Alone.

⸻

🔁 What I used to do

I’d wait until I was at breaking point before even hinting I needed support.
Then I’d minimise it:
“I’m fine.”
“It’s just been a lot, I’ll be alright.”
“I just need to get through this week.”

Even when I felt overwhelmed, lost, or drowning,
I’d smile. I’d get on with it.
Because deep down, I believed asking for help would either let people down…
or be used against me.

I thought strength meant never needing.
Never leaning.
Never showing the cracks.

⸻

🌱 What I try to do now

Now, I try to remind myself:
✨ Strength isn’t doing it alone.
✨ Strength is knowing when you can’t, and choosing connection anyway.
✨ Vulnerability is brave—not weak.

I’m learning that asking for help doesn’t mean I’m incapable—
it means I’m human.

And the people who truly love me?
They want to be there.
They don’t need me to be perfect.
They just need me to be real.

I try to ask sooner.
To receive without guilt.
To let people in—not just when I’m glowing, but when I’m fraying at the edges.

⸻

If you’ve ever found yourself crumbling behind closed doors because asking for help felt unsafe—
I see you.

You learned to survive by being strong.
But you’re allowed to soften now.
You don’t have to carry it all.
Not all the time. Not alone.

Love,
Gaynor x

26/07/2025

🌿 Service: Trace & Tingle

✨ Soft touch. Deep calm. The healing you didn’t know you needed. ✨

This isn’t massage, it’s something gentler. Something softer. Something your nervous system has been quietly craving.

A session where you lie down, unwind, and let someone slowly trace, tickle, and soothe your skin 🖐🏼.
Fingertips, light scratching, featherlight touch, along your back, arms, neck, scalp 🌙.

Some people melt into the table 🫠. Others sigh or giggle. Most say:
“I would pay someone to do this.”

So now… you can.

You’re welcome to undress just like a massage (underwear always on), or stay clothed if you prefer. Either way, you’ll be wrapped in safety, music 🎶, blankets, and good energy.

It’s not therapy, but it’s deeply therapeutic.

No pressure. No small talk. Just soothing, sensory magic for your overworked, overstimulated, under-touched self. 💆🏼‍♀️

⸻

+ Hair Play / Scalp Tracing
Add 10 minutes of gentle scalp touch, hair stroking, or oil-based scalp massage to your session. For when you want to fully float away.

⸻

DM me if you’re curious or want to be one of my first testers 💛
Let’s give your body the soothing it’s been begging for, without having to say a single word.

25/07/2025

Here’s me thinking I was really professional this time and it’s dubbed!!! Meh I’ll post it anyway 🙈

25/07/2025

🌀 Fear Series – Day 5: Fear of Peace

This one took me the longest to name.
Because who the hell’s scared of peace, right?

But the truth is… I was.
Part of me still is.

Not because peace is bad—
But because it felt foreign.

My nervous system was built in chaos.
In emotional rollercoasters, mixed signals, constant alert.
So when things finally calmed down?
I didn’t trust it.
My body mistook peace for danger.
Like… surely something’s about to go wrong.

⸻

💭 Where it came from

When you grow up with inconsistency—emotionally, physically, or relationally—
your baseline becomes dysregulation.
That high-alert, braced-for-impact, walk-on-eggshells kind of energy.

And your brain adapts.

It wires itself to stay in survival mode,
because it thinks that’s what keeps you safe.
So when peace enters the room—quiet, steady, safe—
it feels… wrong.
Like you’ve let your guard down.
Like you’re exposed.

⸻

🔁 What I used to do

I’d create noise when there wasn’t any.
Pick fights when things felt too quiet.
Overthink a kind text or loving gesture.
Or self-sabotage the moment I started to relax.

I’d sit in calm and immediately feel the itch—
to check something, fix something, be on alert again.
Because my body didn’t know how to just… be.

I craved chaos because it felt familiar.
And I confused familiar with safe.

⸻

🌱 What I try to do now

Now, when peace enters, I pause.
And I breathe.
And I remind myself:
✨ This calm is not a setup.
✨ This moment doesn’t need to be earned.
✨ It’s okay to feel steady.

I’m learning that peace is not the absence of something—it’s the presence of safety.
And I deserve to feel safe.
Even if my past taught me otherwise.

Peace used to feel like a trap.
Now, slowly… it feels like home.

⸻

If your nervous system still panics when life gets quiet—
you’re not broken.
You’re just deprogramming decades of fear.

You don’t have to chase chaos to feel alive.
You don’t have to prove anything to rest.
And it’s okay if peace still feels uncomfortable.
That’s just your body learning something new.

Let it.

Love,
Gaynor x

24/07/2025

🌀 Fear Series – Day 4: Fear of Failing

I used to think I was just a perfectionist.
Or lazy. Or unmotivated.

But truthfully?
I was afraid to fail.

Not just in the “I don’t want to mess this up” way—
But in the “If I fail, it proves I’m not good enough” way.
In the “Why bother starting if I might fall flat on my face” kind of way.

So I’d avoid things.
Procrastinate.
Overplan and never launch.
Or put myself into burnout before I even began—so I had an excuse ready if it didn’t go well.

Because if I gave it my all and still failed?
Then what?

⸻

💭 Where it came from

For a lot of us with ADHD or anxious attachment, failure doesn’t feel neutral—it feels personal.
Like evidence of our deepest fear: that we’re not good enough.
That we’re too messy, too slow, too forgetful, too much of a burden to ever really succeed.

And when you’ve grown up being compared to others, or shamed for how your brain works,
it becomes safer to not try than to try and prove everyone right.

Add to that the pressure of having to succeed just to feel worthy,
and you end up chasing gold stars—
not because you want them, but because you need to prove you’re not broken.

⸻

🔁 What I used to do

I’d get these huge creative or life-changing ideas—then abandon them halfway.
Or I’d stay stuck in the planning phase forever, scared to take the leap.
Sometimes I’d get obsessed and do too much, too fast, burn out, and crash.
Then use that as proof: “See? I can’t follow through. I always mess it up.”

I’d beat myself up for not being further ahead.
But truthfully, I was frozen in place by the fear of failing—and what it would mean about me if I did.

⸻

🌱 What I try to do now

Now I try to remember:
✨ Failing doesn’t mean I am a failure.
✨ Progress isn’t always perfect or linear.
✨ And messing up isn’t shameful—it’s human.

I try to take smaller steps and celebrate them, even if they’re messy.
I try to catch the voice in my head that says “don’t bother—you’ll just quit” and respond with compassion instead of criticism.

And I remind myself:
Not starting out of fear is its own kind of failure.
I’d rather try and stumble than stay small and safe forever.

⸻

If you’re someone who’s held yourself back, doubted your abilities, or given up before you’ve even begun—
please know this:

You’re not lazy.
You’re not incapable.
You’re just scared.
And that fear makes sense.

But fear doesn’t get to decide who you are or what you’re capable of.

You do.

Love,
Gaynor x

23/07/2025

🌀 Fear Series – Day 3: Fear of Being “Too Much”

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard this one—directly and indirectly.

“You’re a bit intense.”
“You overthink everything.”
“You’re too sensitive.”
“Calm down.”
“Stop going on.”

It took years before I realised that I wasn’t too much—I was just around people who weren’t able (or willing) to meet me where I was.

But by then, the damage had already shaped me.
I learned to tone myself down.
Mute the parts that were “a lot.”
Dim the brightness, shrink the messiness, question my excitement.
I’d leave conversations thinking, Did I talk too much? Was I too honest? Did I overshare again?

Even when I was just being me, I was editing myself.

⸻

💭 Where it came from

Growing up with undiagnosed ADHD, this one hit early and deep.
I spoke before thinking. I asked too many questions. I forgot filters existed.
I was passionate and fast-moving and blurted out truths most people weren’t ready for.
I felt things big, and said things bigger.

And I often got the message: that’s too much.
Too loud. Too emotional. Too intense. Too dramatic.
Even when I was just excited, connected, or telling the truth.

So I started associating being my full self with shame and rejection.

⸻

🔁 What I used to do

I overthought every interaction.
I toned myself down in new spaces.
I’d go quiet, nod along, mask my actual thoughts, or apologise for my energy.
I tried to be more palatable. More “digestible.”
And I hated that version of me—because it wasn’t real.

The worst part is… sometimes I’d beat them to it.
Say “I know I’m too much” with a laugh before anyone else could.
Just to soften the blow.

⸻

🌱 What I try to do now

Now I try to reframe it.

I remind myself that “too much” often just means you made someone uncomfortable with your truth, your depth, or your freedom.
And that says more about their capacity than your worth.

I try to hold onto the people who love the real me—raw, bold, hyper, fast-talking, honest-as-hell me.
And I let go quicker when someone gives me that look, or energy, that says I need to shrink.

Because I’ve learned this:

✨ The right people won’t just tolerate your energy—they’ll delight in it.
✨ Your fullness won’t scare someone who’s secure in themselves.
✨ You deserve spaces where nothing about you needs to be hidden or explained.

⸻

If you’ve ever felt like you had to dilute yourself just to be accepted—
you’re not alone.

You’re not too much.
You’re just the right amount for the right people.
And you don’t have to shrink to be loved.

Love,
Gaynor x

22/07/2025

🌀 Fear Series – Day 2: Fear of Being Misunderstood

This one cuts deep.

Because when you grow up not feeling fully seen or emotionally mirrored,
being misunderstood doesn’t feel like a minor thing—it feels like a threat.

I didn’t just fear being misunderstood,
I feared what people would think of me because of it.
That I’d be seen as selfish, rude, attention-seeking, intense, dramatic.
That they’d get it wrong… and leave.

So I overexplained.
I waffled. Repeated myself. Added ten disclaimers to every feeling.
Just trying to get people to really hear me.
To say, “Yeah… I get it now.”
To feel safe in knowing I’d been received correctly.

⸻

💭 Where it came from

When you grow up neurodivergent, or emotionally wired in a way the world doesn’t fully understand—
you start to internalise this belief that you’re the confusing one.
That you talk too much. Feel too much. Get it wrong. Miss things. Overreact.
That you are the problem.

So you start working overtime to be understood.
To prove you’re not a bad person. That your intentions were good.
It’s a heavy way to live.

Especially when you’re just trying to connect.

⸻

🔁 What I used to do

I’d explain and re-explain things—conversations, situations, my emotions—until I was drained.
I’d go over texts in my head.
I’d follow up a feeling with “I didn’t mean that in a bad way” or “Sorry if that sounded off.”
I’d panic if someone took what I said the wrong way—because I thought it meant I’d ruined everything.

It was about safety.
It wasn’t just that they didn’t get me.
It was that I felt unsafe because they didn’t.

⸻

🌱 What I try to do now

Now, I try to hold this truth:
Even when I explain myself perfectly… someone might still misunderstand. And that’s okay.
I try to stop chasing clarity that someone isn’t ready or able to give.
I try to soothe the panic that rises when I’m not instantly “got.”

And I remind myself:
✨ I know my own heart.
✨ I know my intentions.
✨ I don’t need to convince everyone to believe them.

It still stings sometimes.
But I’ve learned that being misunderstood doesn’t make me unworthy.
And if I lose someone because I showed up in my truth?
Then it wasn’t really safety anyway.

⸻

If you’ve ever felt this too—like you had to explain your way into being loved or accepted—
please know you’re not alone.
You’re not too complicated.
You’re not too much.

You’re just not meant to shrink yourself to be understood by people who aren’t meant to hold you.

Love,
Gaynor x

21/07/2025

🌀 Fear Series – Day 1: Fear of Rejection

This fear used to run the show for me—and half the time, I didn’t even realise it.

It didn’t always show up as obvious anxiety.
Sometimes it was subtle:
– Overexplaining myself to avoid being misunderstood
– Apologising for things I didn’t need to be sorry for
– Being overly nice, even when I was hurting
– Trying to manage everyone’s emotions just so I wouldn’t be “too much” or pushed away

And here’s the part that took me a long time to admit:
I was constantly scanning for signs someone might be pulling away…
and adjusting myself to stop it before it happened.

It was exhausting.
It felt like love meant I had to earn my place.
Like I needed to make sure I never became a burden or gave anyone a reason to leave.

⸻

💭 Where it came from

When love has felt conditional or unpredictable growing up—
when you’ve had to earn attention, be the “easy one,” or manage other people’s moods just to stay safe—
your nervous system starts to associate peace with danger.
Rejection doesn’t feel like a possibility, it feels like a guarantee.

So you start shape-shifting.
You explain everything. You apologise for needing anything.
You convince yourself if you’re good enough, quiet enough, helpful enough—people will stay.

But that isn’t love. That’s fear dressed up as love.

⸻

🔁 What I used to do

I used to pre-empt people’s reactions so they wouldn’t get upset or leave.
I’d walk on eggshells. I’d send long messages explaining myself when silence felt scary.
I’d shrink parts of me to avoid triggering someone else’s discomfort.
And deep down, I thought: “If they go quiet, it must be my fault.”

⸻

🌱 What I try to do now

Now, I try to pause before spiralling.
I remind myself that someone else’s silence isn’t proof I’ve done something wrong.
I try to let silence sit—without rushing to fill it or fix it.
I’ve started trusting that if someone leaves, that says more about them than it does about me.

This is still a work in progress.
But every time I choose to stay grounded instead of react, I rewire a little more of that fear.
And that’s where real change begins.

20/07/2025

✨ Operating from Fear: The Silent Autopilot That Ruled My Life (for Way Too Long)

Most people have no idea how much fear runs the show.
Not the scream-in-a-dark-alley fear—
I’m talking about the quiet kind.
The kind that whispers:
“Don’t say that, they’ll leave.”
“Don’t rest, you’ll fall behind.”
“Don’t trust this, it won’t last.”

The kind that makes you shrink. Please. Perform.
The kind that made me abandon myself to keep others close.

Truth is, a lot of how we show up—
in love, stress, disappointment—
isn’t a conscious choice.
It’s a survival reflex.
A nervous system that learned early on:
connection isn’t always safe.
Love isn’t always stable.
So stay ready. Stay guarded.

🧠 It’s not just emotional—it’s neurological.
The brain wires itself through repetition.
So when you’ve spent years being let down, ignored, abandoned, gaslit, or pushed aside…
your body gets the message: “Love = danger.”

And just like that, fear becomes your autopilot.
You’re not thinking—you’re reacting.
Not from the truth in front of you, but from the past behind you.

⸻

That’s how you can be surrounded by love and still feel unsure.
That’s how you can crave safety and still run from it.
That’s how you can sabotage something real—because it doesn’t feel familiar.

Your brain doesn’t care if it’s good.
It cares if it’s known.
And for a lot of us… dysfunction is what’s known.
Chaos. Inconsistency. Walking on eggshells. Overgiving.
If that’s what your nervous system knows—then peace? Presence? Real love?
Feels suspicious.

⸻

💔 Here’s the hard truth: Love is not enough.
Not if your nervous system still lives in survival.
Not if your trauma is still calling the shots.

You can love someone with everything you’ve got.
They can love you right back with all the right intentions.
But if you haven’t looked at the patterns,
if you haven’t rewired the fear,
if you’re still running on protection-mode?

You’ll question the good.
Cling. Push away. People please. Shut down.
Or stay in something that hurts—because pain feels more familiar than peace.

⸻

We want love to fix it.
We want it to be enough.
But real healing takes more.

🪞It takes looking at your own reactions and asking:
“Is this love… or is this fear pretending to keep me safe?”
It takes letting your emotions speak—but not letting them drive.
It takes catching yourself mid-pattern and choosing differently,
again and again.

There’s no pretty filter for this work.
It’s raw. It’s uncomfortable.
It’s choosing not to numb, lash out, or run—when every cell in your body wants to.
But it’s worth it.
Because surviving isn’t the same as living.

⸻

You were built for more than reacting.
More than proving.
More than keeping everyone else regulated while you fall apart in silence.

You were built for peace.
Clarity. Connection that doesn’t cost your self-worth.

You’re not broken—you’re patterned.
And patterns can be reprogrammed.
With awareness. Support. Practice. And a whole lot of compassion.

Last week, I opened up about some of the beliefs I’ve had to unlearn —
things I was told about myself, especially growing up with undiagnosed ADHD,
that I now know weren’t true.

This week, I want to go deeper into something else that’s shaped me for just as long:
Fear.

Over the next few days, I’ll be sharing some real-life experiences and reflections
on how fear has shown up in my life, the patterns I’ve started to notice,
and what it actually looks like to start living from love instead of protection. 💛

Love, Gaynor x

19/07/2025

🌀 UNLEARNING WRAP-UP: The Belief Underneath It All

I AM NOT ENOUGH

This one didn’t scream.
It whispered

It was never said directly, but it was implied everywhere.
In the eye rolls. The sighs. The silences. The way I was asked to be a little less.
It was in the “why can’t you just…” and the “you always…”
The moments I tried so hard and it still wasn’t good enough.

I carried this belief into everything:
Friendships, motherhood, love, s*x, work, healing.
That who I am—at my core—is somehow not quite enough.

Not calm enough. Not organised enough.
Not consistent enough. Not chill enough.
Not easy enough to love. Not effortless enough to keep.

And yet too much at the same time.

⸻

💭 What I’ve Had to Unlearn:
• That love must be earned through performance
• That my worth is based on how easy I am to handle
• That rest, emotion, slowness, softness make me unproductive or unworthy
• That I have to prove my value constantly or it disappears

This belief shaped how I showed up in relationships—
always trying to prove, impress, explain, accommodate.
I abandoned myself over and over just trying to feel chosen.

⸻

🔄 How I Unlearned It:
• I started listening to the voice underneath the noise—the one that never gave up on me
• I paid attention to how I felt around certain people: did I feel safe, or performative?
• I stopped chasing validation from people who only liked the toned-down version of me
• I started holding myself in the moments I felt “not enough,” instead of spiralling into shame
• I learned to let quiet days, slow healing, and

This week, I shared some of the beliefs I’ve had to unlearn.

The ones that were never mine to carry,
but got handed to me anyway.

⸻

🌱 What I Know Now:

I was never not enough.
I was just surrounded by people, systems, and beliefs that benefited from me believing I was.

I don’t have to be palatable to be worthy.
I don’t have to be perfect to be loved.
I don’t have to do more, be more, fix more to deserve peace.

I’ve always been enough.
Even in the mess. Even in the pauses. Even when no one clapped for me.

And if you’re still carrying that ache in your chest, the one that whispers “not enough”…
Please know: that voice isn’t your truth.
It’s the echo of someone else’s limitation.
You were never the problem.

You are not too much. You are not lazy. You are not broken. You are not selfish. You are not too sensitive.
You are not less.

You are enough.
And you always were.

Love, Gaynor x

19/07/2025

ADHD is wild, isn’t it?I’ll spend all week dreaming of a day off, no plans, no kids, no alarms, just me and the sweet freedom to do whatever I want.

Then the day comes…And I freeze.Not because I don’t want to do anything. Because I want to do EVERYTHING.
And my brain won’t pick a lane.

Do I finish painting Phoebe’s room?
Make that reel I’ve been planning?
Work on my course?
Clear out the wardrobe?
Go out for a walk?
Nap?
Scream into a pillow?

So I do none of it. I bounce from one half-task to another until I’ve spiralled into a full-on overwhelm shutdown, haven’t eaten, have a headache, and now hate myself for “wasting” my Saturday.
And it’s not even laziness—it’s too much, not too little.

The worst part? I don’t even like strict plans either.
Give me a rigid schedule and I rebel.
Give me too much freedom and I unravel.

And next week I’ve got five full days without the kids. Five full days of space—which sounds dreamy, but right now I’m dreading it a little. Because structure helps… but only if I create it gently and with love, not pressure.

So this is your reminder:
If you’re like me and your day off didn’t go as planned—
You didn’t fail.
Your brain just needs different support.
And sometimes the most productive thing we can do is eat something, lie down for a bit, and try again tomorrow 💛

“Today’s win? I got dressed. Tomorrow? Who knows. Maybe I’ll paint a wall. Or just stare at one 🤷🏼‍♀️”

18/07/2025

🌀 UNLEARNING: “I Can’t Stick to Anything”

This one still pokes at me sometimes,
Because, yeah, I have started 500 hobbies.
And yes… I’ve bought all the gear, gone all in, and got bored within a week.

I can be obsessed with something on Monday and forget it even exists by Thursday.
I bounce between tabs, tasks, jobs, ideas, conversations, notebooks.
So yeah, I get why this belief took hold.

But here’s what people don’t always see:

When something really matters to me, when it counts?
When it’s for my kids, my future, my healing, or my sense of justice?

I don’t stop.

If I feel it in my gut, if I’ve decided it’s happening, then there is no force like my determination.
Tell me I can’t? Watch me.
Doubt me? I’ll make it my mission.
And I’ll get it done, exhausted, emotional, maybe ugly crying in the car—but I’ll get it done.

⸻

💭 What I’ve Had to Unlearn:
• That jumping from thing to thing means I’m flaky
• That losing interest = failing
• That loving the start of things but struggling to finish them makes me unreliable
• That I have to stick to one rigid path to be taken seriously

Because the truth is, my ADHD brain is wired for interest-based nervous system fuel.
It craves stimulation, meaning, urgency, novelty.
And when those aren’t there? It’s not “I can’t be bothered”, it’s “my brain literally won’t move.”

⸻

🔄 How I Unlearned It:
• I started tracking the patterns—when do I lose steam, and why?
• I let go of the idea that “changing your mind” = failing
• I began owning my gift for starting things, for creating sparks
• I started naming my fire instead of shaming my fade-outs
• And most of all—I stopped ignoring all the huge things I’ve stuck with:
• fighting for my kids
• rebuilding my life
• showing up for my clients/friends/family
• learning about my brain and body
• not giving up on myself

⸻

🌱 What I Know Now:

I can stick to things.
Not always in the way the world expects—but in the way I was built for.
I’m built for purpose. Passion. Truth.
And when something hits that core? I’m all in.

So, no I don’t always finish decorating the bloody room.
The paint tins are still in the hallway, the Pinterest board’s 10 months old, and I’ve forgotten what I was even aiming for.
But if something matters to me, I’m not just committed.
I’m relentless.

Love, Gaynor x

Shoshen Holistic Healing

26/07/2025

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