The Alchemy of Returning to Myself

There comes a time in every journey when the silence between breaths grows louder than the noise of the world. That silence is where I found myself—not broken, but waiting. This is the story of how I came back to life, not by striving or fixing, but by remembering. By unearthing the sacred within the simple and reclaiming the power I had always carried.

For nearly fifty years, I have carried the quiet knowing that I came into this world with a message.

Not a slogan, not a mission statement, but a deep, resonant truth meant to be lived and eventually shared. And yet, until now, that message has remained just out of reach—as if waiting for the right moment, the right breakdown, the right rebirth.

I’ve never seen my life as tragic, though many others in my place might have. My experiences were never trauma to me—they were simply what happened. Difficult? Yes. Defining? No. Because from a very young age, I have had the gift—perhaps the calling—of the alchemist. I transmute darkness into love, pain into lesson, chaos into clarity. A spiritual friend once called me a "Sin Eater," an old soul who could digest the poison of life and return it as gold. And though I never fully understood the weight of those words then, I feel them now more than ever.

People, animals, even the unseen—all seem drawn to me. It’s as if my presence speaks in a language beyond words, one that echoes in hearts and spirits alike. And while I cherish solitude, preferring the life of a hermit, I’ve always made space for others. But for many years, I did so at the expense of myself. I gave without boundaries, served without rest, offered without receiving. And when I finally collapsed into a deep depression, the world did not come rushing to lift me. It mirrored back what I had always known: when I asked for help, I rarely received it.

But something shifted. Maybe it was my brother’s recent passing, or the way grief stripped me down to my soul. Maybe it was the long-neglected side of my house—abandoned during my depression—calling me back as a symbol of all I had left behind. Whatever it was, I began to remember myself. I asked for help. And this time, someone answered. That small act of kindness landed like a miracle. Like Dobby the house elf receiving a sock. It was more than help—it was freedom.

That single moment became a turning point. It taught me that vulnerability is not weakness—it is a bridge. Since then, I’ve begun to take steps—not in leaps, but in reverent increments. I am learning to build boundaries, to name my needs, and to say no with love. I live on sacred land—a wooded lot that reflects the quiet, sovereign nature of my spirit. It, too, is part of my healing. Part of my church.

Yes, I lead a church. A 501(c)(3) without dogma or doctrine, devoted to the principles of Prema (divine love), Chaitanya (consciousness), and Ananda (bliss). Our mission is radical in its simplicity: to help people return to self-love through personal healing. We are not here to tell you what to believe, but to help you remember who you are.

I also run a holistic transformational mentoring business, offering heart-centered guidance for those ready to shed old stories and step into their wholeness. But I struggle—as many empaths do—with turning my natural presence into prosperity. Asking for money still feels foreign, even wrong. But I’m beginning to understand that money is simply one form of energy exchange. And I am learning to open the channels.

I’ve even begun considering a crowdfunding campaign—one born not of desperation, but of invitation. A story called “Be My Knight in Shining Armor,” where I offer my truth in exchange for support to stabilize my finances and create a foundation under my church and my calling. Because I now understand that support is not just allowed—it is necessary.

This journey is not just personal. It is universal. It’s about the quiet revolution of returning to one’s own heart. Of realizing that we don’t need to be fixed, just remembered. Reconnected. Reclaimed.

So I write. I share. I open. I walk forward, not because I have all the answers, but because I trust the path beneath my feet. I know the message will reveal itself as I live it. And I trust that those meant to walk with me will feel it in their bones.

Because this is no longer about hiding, shrinking, or waiting. This is about reclaiming every part of my life. Not perfectly, not all at once—but intentionally.

This is the alchemy of returning to myself.

And it’s only just begun.

If you’ve read this far, perhaps something within you stirred—a whisper of your own story, your own return. I welcome you to walk beside me, whether as a reader, a fellow traveler, or a co-creator. My door is open.

If you'd like to support this work, share this story, connect with my church, or explore transformational mentoring, I would love to hear from you.

Together, we can remember what it means to turn life into gold.

Stay tuned for Part Two, where I’ll share more about the vision for the church, how I envision sacred community, and the energetic architecture of a life rooted in healing and love.