Healing Isn’t Linear: A Raw Reflection on Abandonment, Ancestral Pain & Reclaiming Power

I’ve always said to you — healing isn’t linear. Our wounds will rear their ugly heads if and when they please… usually when you’re on the edge of a huge breakthrough (in my experience!).

This most recent cycle that I’m still in feels more poignant than others. It’s not so much about me now, as much as it is about little me.

I don’t know if you’ve heard this before, but I was reminded of it again the other day — I’m guessing a little nudge from the Universe:
“We often feel most hurt by what was absent in our childhood, not necessarily by what was present.”

That’s exactly what I’m moving through.

I went to a funeral this week for an aunt on my dad’s side of the family. While I don’t have many memories with that side, I do have fond ones of this particular aunt. And I’m close to her children — my cousins — who just lost their mum.

I know how it feels to lose a parent young. You’re never ready. Even as you grow older, I can only imagine it still cuts deep. And while we often feel relief that their pain is no more… the void left behind is bigger than words.

I’ve said many times that I’m used to death — but this particular funeral cut me in places I thought I had healed.

Not only for my cousins.
Not only remembering my aunt.
Not only remembering how it felt to lose my dad…

But as a reminder of what was missing in my childhood.

To get to the point — the feeling that has overwhelmingly consumed me this past week (honestly, the past few weeks) is abandonment.

I’ve felt it over and over again in my life.
But back when I was armoured up (pre-healing journey), I couldn’t feel it. I wouldn’t let myself. I kept running — through overworking and busying myself in the “no days off,” toxic masculine survival pattern I had created.

Truth is… abandonment feels like loneliness.
And I felt that so heavily growing up.

And a part of me — the little girl in me — felt it again this week.
And wow… was it painful.

Before I tell you how I moved through it, I want you to know:
I let myself feel it.
I let her — my inner child — say what she needed to say.

We wrote down what I needed to hear.
How I wished things had gone.
What I wish had happened differently.

I cried. A lot.
I shared this pain with my loved ones, who rallied around me — because I asked.
For help.
For support.
For love.

Because as much as the wounded part of me felt lonely, my higher self knows — we’re not alone.

Once I was still enough… rested enough… I pulled back the layers to find the root.

If you’ve followed me for a while, you know I’m a no-BS person. I’ve never believed empty words — trauma taught me that. But I also have a gift for reading genuine intent (it’s actually part of my Human Design — the Gate of Knowing).

What I realised is this:

Every time that side of the family sees me, there’s this avalanche of wanting to reconnect… invitations to meet up… all the things. And while it’s lovely, and I am grateful, a lot of it — not all — but a lot… feels like empty words to fill their own egos.

Because the truth is — and this is what hurt the most —
Where were you when we needed you?
(Me and my sister.)

Where were you when my dad wasn’t there and we had no male figure?
(Not that my dad was fully owning that role — but as I’ve said, he was doing the best with what he knew. I’ve made peace with that.)

And the biggest one…
Where were you when my dad was struggling?

No one liked his drinking. So they left him to it.
With us.
We did our best to pull him out, but it wasn’t enough.
The damage was already done.

I can’t change time.
I can’t go back.
And my dad certainly can’t be resurrected 17 years later.
And even if he was — I can’t promise he would have chosen differently.

But what I won’t do is hide how I feel or sweep it under the rug.

Honour and integrity are the foundations I’m built on.

And while this may be “TMI” for some people — I’m sharing my truth.
So that you, if you have a similar story, feel seen.

It’s OK to still grieve.
The people who’ve passed.
The relationships that have fizzled.

It’s OK to be disappointed by what you wish could’ve happened.
But you can’t stay there.
Or you’ll grow resentful. And that’s a place I refuse to live.

So how did I call my power back?

I went back.
I understood the feeling.
I explored why I felt that way and where it started.

I accepted what I couldn’t control.
That I can’t change the past.
But I got clear on what I need moving forward — and what I need to say for my own peace, if the opportunity to speak ever arises.

Not to blame — but for peace, harmony, and honouring my needs if a bond is to be restored.

I released the emotion.
The hurt.
The sadness.

And from there… I filled my cup.

I moved slowly (still am).
I stopped being of service to others, and tended to me.
Because I can’t pour from an empty cup.

And today, as I slowly feel the light again, I see the full circle moment:

My wounded self — my ego — as I choose healing, peace, light and ease… she thinks I’m abandoning her.

But I had to tell her:

That story isn’t ours to carry anymore.
Our legacy is one of triumph — of overcoming —
Not an echo of suffering.

There are no dragons to slay.
Only peace.

I choose peace.
I choose light.
I choose love.

And most importantly —
Through all of this…

I didn’t abandon myself.

Because of that, this journey has felt less like a trench…
More like a dirt track.
Uncomfortable.
Deep in places.
But nowhere near as dark as I’ve been before.

I am proud of me —
For listening to myself.
For choosing slowness.
For leaning into the love around me.

This is Divine Feminine Leadership.

The alchemy I live is one that was forged in the darkness — but has lightened, as I chose the light.
The power I hold in every cell of my body isn’t solid — it’s malleable.
Not force — but flow.

Like the ocean, I am both the delicate wave and the tsunami.
The water and the ice.

I teach this work because I embody it with every fibre of my mind, body, and soul.

So whatever you’re moving through right now —
If you’re called to connect, drop me a DM here or book a free call. Let’s talk about how I can support you.

I know for a fact I’ve healed generations of trauma — because I turned to face it.
Will you?

I’ll be by your side every step of the way, if your answer is yes.

Love and light,