15/10/2025
I remember the first time someone asked me,
“So what do you do?”
I stumbled over my words
“I’m a healer… a holistic therapist… a masseuse…”
But none of those words ever truly fit.
For a long time, I didn’t know what to call myself.
A witch? A Priestess? A wise woman? A healer ?
Each one both resonated and resisted like they were waiting for me to remember who I really was beneath all the labels.
So, I began the journey
into the Witch Wound,
the burning times, the trials,
the years and years where women’s voices were taken,
their wisdom dismissed, their magic feared.
And what I found wasn’t just the part of me that had been silenced
the lifetimes where I swallowed my truth,
dimmed my power,
played small to stay safe.
I also found the part of me that had done the silencing.
The part that turned away from her sisters out of fear.
The part that judged or stayed quiet when another woman’s voice shook the ground.
The part that carried internalised fear so deep it whispered “don’t be too much.”
Facing that was humbling.
Because healing the witch wound isn’t just about reclaiming power
it’s about acknowledging where we’ve withheld it from others.
It’s about remembering we were all part of the story
the hunted and the hunters,
the silenced and the silencers.
And now, we get to choose differently.
To speak.
To listen.
To rise together, voices trembling, hearts open,
remembering that every time we let another woman be fully seen,
we heal another thread of the wound.
I’m so deeply grateful that for the past five years,
I’ve been able to walk beside women as they remember their own power
to witness them heal, rise, and reclaim the parts of themselves they once hid away.
This work isn’t just what I do
it’s who I am,
and I’ll never stop being in awe of the magic that happens when women heal together. 🤍
