From black hole to shining star

On June 11th at 11:11 a.m., a stranger messaged me. The universe must have known that, on June 12th, I would have a meltdown, and the one who would help me rise again was the person whose name had just popped up on my phone.

For the first six months of this year, I would wake up every morning wishing I didn’t exist. January 1st brought devastating news that shook my family, and I ended up seeking solace from a situation that had already shattered my confidence for far too long. On top of that, I was juggling two jobs and trying to be an entrepreneur yet somehow, my finances never seemed stable.

As winter crept towards spring, I sank deeper into darkness. Anxiety filled my chest and at an alarming pace, PTSD-symptoms such as panic attacks, flashbacks and nightmares returned to my life. Still, I kept thinking: “If I can just make it for one more day, one more week, one more month, then everything will be alright.” I kept practicing gratitude and feverishly repeated affirmations, but nothing worked.

Then came June 12th, and everything crashed. My spirit was broken, and I knew that something had to change. Fortunately, the summer holidays were just around the corner so I escaped to Madeira, where I hiked to the highest mountain and slowly started picking up the pieces. As the fog of past events lifted, the stranger who had messaged me earlier came into focus.

By now, I knew that his name was Luke and that he lived in Australia. I knew he liked the colour green and shared my passion for hiking. I also learned that he had gone through past struggles not unlike my own. We had a clarity call to see if his coaching would be right for me and despite my initial hesitation, I was struck by his genuine compassion.

I asked the universe for a sign, and for the rest of my holidays, the name Luke rained over me. In every book I read and every movie I watched, there was a character named Luke. If I listened to a podcast, there was a guest named Luke. If I discovered a new song, it would be sung by an artist called Luke (or Luca). I even saw his name written on a lamp post! The message was loud and clear.

Once I returned home, Luke offered me another clarity call and the next day, I sent him all the money I had at the time. My friends were skeptical. “What if he hypnotises you and then switches off the computer and you stay hypnotised forever?” one of them worried. “Don’t give him any information!” another one advised.

But I knew that if this was going to work, I would have to trust Luke completely. I would have to be brave, and vulnerable. My decision was not based on reviews or referrals, or even logic (in hindsight, I could have done more research). It was pure intuition. I was fully committed, ready and desperate to change my life.

And so Luke and I embarked on a 6-week quantum transformation journey, including timeline therapy and reprogramming of the subconscious mind, delving into traumas and underlying blocks. One by one, we cleared out negative emotions such as anger, sadness, fear, hurt and guilt, and rewired my nervous system for positive emotions. We removed negative beliefs and installed new empowered beliefs.

The rapid changes were astonishing, and newfound joy fuelled my motivation. Luke sent me six digital courses to work on in between our sessions and after just a few weeks, I had gone through them all, surprised to discover that I had become extremely interested in neuroscience. Engrossed, I devoured any information I could find and filled notebook after notebook.

About halfway through, I unexpectedly fell back into the black hole that I thought I had expanded from. Only this time, I managed to crawl out of it myself and found that I could stand firmly on my own two feet. That’s when I knew that something fundamental had shifted.

The coaching program was not an easy process for me. There were days when I didn’t show up as my best self and there were days when I wanted to quit because there were past events that I didn’t dare to revisit. There were times when I felt embarrassed, and there were times when I felt lost in between sessions. There were, however, more moments when I felt truly connected, and I experienced profound love and happiness. No matter what, I kept going, knowing Luke would always be there to support me.

Step by step, my spirit began to heal. These days, I wake up excited to do yoga and see what else the day brings. I haven’t had a panic attack in months, and my sleep is no longer interrupted by nightmares. I can breathe more easily, and for the first time in my life, I feel safe and at home in my body. My confidence has improved and I feel more comfortable being myself. I worry less about what other people think and focus more on creating my own path.

I have learned how to set boundaries, proving that I can stand up for myself and make the right decisions. I now understand that it is not my job to protect others from facing the consequences of their own actions. I have found a strength inside myself that I never knew I had.

I have gone from feeling burned out at work to showing up each day full of energy. I feel a lot more comfortable in my teacher role, whether it’s teaching languages, dance or yoga. In January, all my yoga courses were canceled, but when I offered them again in August, they sold out within an hour!

Two years ago, I published my first book, which was followed by imposter syndrome and writer’s block. Now, I’m writing every day again, which feels fantastic. I have set new goals for the future and I’m excitedly taking steps towards them. My motto is “I’m happy in the present moment, and I allow good things to come to me.”

At 42, I feel like life is just beginning. This experience has inspired me so much that I have even decided to study hypnotherapy for a year. Perhaps helping others is the best way to thank the no-longer stranger who popped into my life and changed everything for the better.

Reasons to stay alive

It was a Tuesday night in October last year. I was working late as usual and it was just me and another teacher in the staffroom at our academic center in the North of Madrid. This tall handsome stranger and I had been introduced at the beginning of the school year but we hadn’t really talked since then. We were both tapping away at our computers when he started a conversation. "Do you like reading?" he asked from behind his screen and I looked up. I looked at him, then looked away.

I didn’t know how to say that yes, I used to love books but now the mere thought of reading one was so exhausting that I couldn’t even bring myself to try. Finishing a book seemed like an impossible task to accomplish and I didn’t want to add to my never-ending list of failures. I didn’t know how to explain that when you’re overwhelmed by anxiety, reading two sentences after another is already a major undertaking. It's like reading a text with no punctuation - it makes absolutely no sense. 

"I like writing." My timid voice broke the awkward silence a while later when the part of me that longed for human connection suddenly decided to speak up. The other teacher smiled. "I know a great bookstore. You should go some time." I scribbled down the name and address he gave me and we said goodnight. Desperate literature. That was the name of the bookstore and it made me wonder how much misery my face had given away. 

Three days later, I had a free afternoon and decided to go for it. Now, to a normal person, stepping into unknown territory may not seem like such a big deal, but for someone with panic disorder, it requires careful planning and plenty of courage. So when I arrived only to find the store closed for siesta, I did what no normal person would do. I sat down and waited. For two hours. Because I knew that if I left, I would never come back.

The doors finally opened and a friendly girl with purple hair welcomed me. I entered and literally stumbled over a book called Reasons to stay alive, which had been placed on a small table right in front of the door. I picked it up and read the few lines on the back page, then held the book close to my chest.

Desperate Literature

It was a book written by Matt Haig and it had spoken my name as I was waiting outside. I instinctively knew that this must be why I had been sent here but, unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to buy it. I was still paying off the debts of my hospital bills and wasn’t supposed to spend any money so I put the book down and had a look around.

The shop was small and there were books upon books stacked on the shelves covering the walls all the way up to the ceiling. I took three steps into the back room and found a section of French classics, which I carefully held in my hand before lifting them up to my nose, randomly opening pages and breathing in the smell of words. Sentences. Stories. Sensations. Was this what happiness felt like? I couldn’t quite remember.

I walked in circles around the store and each time I passed the front table I picked up Matt Haig's book again. “We take credit cards!” the cashier cried out the fifth time I came around. My hands shook as I handed her the book along with my card, which was supposed to be for emergencies only. “I’ll take it.”

That night, I didn’t sleep. For the first time in what felt like forever although in reality was only a year, I had someone who understood. Who had been where I was. Who knew what it’s like to stand on the edge, contemplating another step. Matt and I spoke the same language. We talked about insomnia, inability to speak, air too thin to breathe, disconnection, dread, darkness, the weight of guilt, trying to keep afloat, not having a single waking second outside of fear and longing, above all else, to just feel normal.

But not only did Matt understand, he also gave me hope. He didn’t say that it will all be okay because how could it possibly ever be okay. He said it takes time. He said one day, you will see a tiny bit of the blue sky emerge behind the clouds again. You will read one (short) paragraph, then maybe one more and eventually, you will finish a whole chapter. And then start a new one, while leaving an old one behind.

He made me see that depression and anxiety are liars who tell us things that aren’t true. He promised me that even when I feel like I'm sinking, there is a stronger part of me that remains steady. He assured me that pleasure can grow out of the pain and that I will one day feel a joy that matches this sadness. That is the hope that I still live by today and if I forget, I dive into Matt's book to remind myself again. In fact, in the year that has passed since I first visited Desperate Literature, I have read over twenty books and enjoyed every single one of them.

The tall handsome stranger and I never really had a conversation again. We passed by each other in the hallways at work a couple of times, but I never knew how to say thank you. I didn’t know how to tell him how much his words had meant to me. Not just the recommendation but the fact that he saw me when I felt invisible and alone in the world.

We never know what someone is going through, but we also never know who needs to hear what we have to say. Nothing is random and no kind word is ever wasted so don’t be afraid to reach out and break the silence. You might just give someone a reason to live.

Inhale - stay in the present moment. Exhale - it's a wonderful moment.

Make a splash, make a mess

Last week, my friend brought me to one of the biggest waterfalls in Ecuador. It's stunning, yet hardly anyone knows about it. It's hidden in the jungle, far away from civilization. No tourists come here and most Ecuadorians don't seem to be aware of this secluded cascade either.

To reach our destination, we had to drive through the mountains for four hours. It was a rainy day and as we were navigating through the clouds, I couldn't help but think that the outside view looked exactly like the inside of my head. Three months of heavy medication has made my mind so foggy that I honestly don't know what is real and what isn't anymore. I often get lost in my thoughts, or absence of such, and find it difficult to keep up with a conversation. Shadows play tricks on me and sometimes I can't distinguish between genuine feelings and ghostlike emotions.

When we arrived, we parked the car and hiked for about half an hour through the jungle. The thick rainforest surrounding us, we walked on in silence while screeching monkeys jumped from tree to tree. The lush green leaves were still moist from the rain and we gulped down the fresh air as if every inhale were our first (or last). For the first time in a very long time, I could breathe. The knot that's been tied around my throat for the past two months started to loosen and I almost felt like myself again. As we approached the waterfall, we could hear it roaring and once we were standing in front of it, I was amazed. It is hard to believe that something so powerful, and so big, can be kept a secret.

Cascada de San Rafael

On the way back, the sky cleared up a little and a few rays of sunshine managed to break through the clouds. The light, in combination with the fresh air in my lungs, helped defog my mind as well. New thoughts began to take shape and out of nowhere, words came flying to me, begging to be formed into sentences. It has taken me a week to actually put them together but still, that's progress. It means that some of the gloom has lifted and eventually, the rest will dissolve as well.

"Do you need more boyfriend material?", my friend asked as I told him that I've been struggling with a bit of writer's block lately. I slowly shook my head in response. No thanks, I'm done with the drama. Despite the fog, it has become clear to me that I don't need anyone to bring me to the highest mountaintop and take my breath away. What I need is someone who keeps me grounded and allows me to breathe. Love is not about waiting for a knight in shining armor, it's about discovering the one who has a heart of gold hidden underneath. I can climb to the top of a mountain by myself, but I do I need someone to help me keep my feet on the ground when my head is in the clouds. Sharp minds can be intriguing but at the end of the day, I want someone with a bit of softness around the edges. Someone who can be my soft place to fall because I do a lot of that these days.

Maybe the waterfalls really have it all figured out - it seems like a great idea to hide out in nature for a while. Let's go with the flow, roar with excitement, create our own music and finally, make one big splash.