*A Note to My Readers
As I share this blog series, ‘Reflections and Revelations,’ reflecting on the pivotal moments that have shaped my life, I want to acknowledge that these posts include sensitive themes such as bullying, self-harm, depression, anxiety, promiscuity, and substance use. These topics are deeply personal, and while I share them with honesty, I encourage you to proceed with care. If at any point you feel triggered or overwhelmed, please prioritize your well-being and step away.
I also want to clarify that while my stories may at times sound like I am blaming or accusing others, this is not my intent. With time, reflection, and growth, I’ve come to understand that everyone was navigating their own challenges and doing the best they could with what they knew at the time. I do not hold resentment toward anyone mentioned; in fact, many of these relationships have been healed through understanding and time. For this reason, I have changed or omitted some of the names in these stories. This series is about exploring how these moments shaped me, not about pointing fingers, and I hope it inspires others to reflect on their own journeys with compassion and courage. I never set out on a spiritual journey. In fact, if you’d told me years ago that I’d end up practicing Reiki, reading angel cards, and hosting women’s circles, I probably would have laughed. But life has a way of leading us where we need to go, even when we don’t understand it at the time.

FND (Functional Neurological Disorder) didn’t just slow me down; it stopped me in my tracks. One moment, I was moving through life, doing what I loved— dancing, learning to play the guitar, working with youth, reiki, leading women’s circles, and finding purpose in my work. And then, suddenly, I wasn’t. My body betrayed me. My career slipped through my fingers. My world shrank to the four walls of my home, my universe reduced to the short distance between my bed, my couch, and the bathroom. I became a hermit, trapped inside a body I no longer recognized, alone with thoughts I didn’t want to face.

I had spent years in the new age world, believing in its promise of healing, growth, and enlightenment. At first, it seemed so pure—grounding myself, connecting with nature, and learning to embrace positivity. But somewhere along the way, it shifted. It became a constant chase for something more—more knowledge, more healing, more ascension. The deeper I went, the more rules there were. Don’t think negative thoughts, or you’ll attract negativity. Keep raising your vibration, or you won’t align with abundance. Protect your energy, or you’ll invite darkness. I had pushed past my fears and boundaries, ignored the uneasy feeling in my gut, and convinced myself that discomfort was just a sign of my self-imposed limitations. But where had it led me? To a terrifying paranormal experience, a broken body, and a mind spiraling out of control.

Had I ever truly been healed? Or had I just been chasing fleeting moments of peace, mistaking temporary relief for transformation? I didn’t know anymore. My mind was a wreck. Depression wrapped around me like a suffocating fog, and my doctor put me on antidepressants. Pain medications came and went, each promising relief but delivering only side effects. Outwardly, I smiled and tried to stay strong for my family and friends. Inside, I felt like I’d lost all purpose. Was this it? At 39 years old, was this the rest of my life? Pain, medications, isolation? Anxiety clawed at my chest, whispering that I was nothing, that I had lost everything that made me who I was.

One day, desperate for a distraction, I was scrolling through YouTube when a video caught my eye: From New Age to Jesus. I hesitated. I had friends who were Christian, but I’d never considered their faith as something for me. Still, curiosity won. I clicked.

As I watched, something inside me stirred. Her story—her journey into the new age, her desperate search for meaning, the way the things she trusted had started to turn on her—it was my story. The endless climb toward spiritual enlightenment, the pressure to always be more, the guilt that came when you weren’t perfect, had doubts or felt fear. And then, she spoke about Jesus. How everything changed when she turned to Him.

That one video turned into another, and another. Testimonies flooded my screen—stories similar to mine. I had spent years devouring new age teachings, so what harm could it do to learn about the Bible? Just knowledge, I told myself. It couldn’t hurt.

I reached out to a good friend I trusted and knew was a Christian and asked if I could join her Bible study group. You know, just out of curiosity and for knowledge and understanding. The first few sessions were hard. The structure, reading, discussion—it felt like being back in school. The noise of some of the ladies’ little kids running around triggered my tics and spasms, leaving me exhausted when I got home. But something in me told me to keep going. It felt… right. Like a knowing deep in my bones.

Then, I gathered the courage to ask another friend if I could go to church with her. From the moment I stepped inside, I felt something shift. People welcomed me warmly, without judgment, without expectations. The music started, and as I listened to the lyrics, something cracked open inside me. The words spoke of a love I’d never known, a love that’d been there all along, waiting for me to see it. And as the pastor spoke, I began to understand.

In all my searching, I had been looking for truth. For something solid. For something that didn’t change with the latest spiritual trend. And here it was.

I bought a Bible and started reading every day. The more I read, the more my heart softened. I joined a different Bible study, one that felt more practical for a new Christian like me. And slowly, the walls I had built around my heart began to crumble.

One night, standing in the shower, I prayed. Really prayed. Not to the universe, not to my guides, not to some higher self. I prayed to God. I told Him everything—the pain, the fear, the loneliness. And in that moment, I felt it. A love so overwhelming, so pure, it brought me to tears. Joy flooded through me, filling every broken space inside me, mending cracks I’d spent years covering with plasters.

For the first time in my life, I knew—I was loved. I was seen. I’d never been alone.

While coming to the realization Jesus is real seemed almost too easy, shifting my mindset hasn’t been easy. I still have struggles. My body is still healing. But my soul? My soul has never been more whole. And now, for the first time in a long time, I want to be better. Not for the sake of ascension. Not to manifest abundance or gain money and power. Not to prove my worth.

But because I am already loved, just as I am.

Ask for Help

If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek support. Here are some Australian helplines that can help:

• Lifeline: 13 11 14 (24/7 crisis support and suicide prevention)
• Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636 (Support for depression and anxiety)
• Kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800 (For young people aged 5–25)
• 1800RESPECT: 1800 737 732 (Support for domestic and family violence)
• Alcohol and Drug Foundation: 1300 858 584

You are not alone, and help is available.