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ONCE UPON A TIME, I WAS STUCK UNDER A TRAUMA SPELL.


I didn’t know that’s what it was then, only that consistent bad health, quiet addictions and relentless over-performing had a firm grip on my mind, body and heart – and I kept feeling like shit over and over again. I was done, it was either suicide or something had to change rapidly.


I’d had a conversation with myself that I would give myself 6 more months and if nothing improved I would throw myself off a cliff.


I ended up in India, at a dodgy Tantra retreat where you were told you would only reach enlightenment if you slept with the 70-year-old guru, erm, no thanks mate. But I have to say the teachings themselves were profound and gave me a different perspective on sexuality that gave me hope that I could heal from my sexual abuse.


\One afternoon I was sitting on the floor in a cafe with my hands feeding myself a curry when someone approached me and asked if I would be interested in taking a breathwork class. I was a little hesitant, breathing for a whole hour didn’t sound like much fun to me but I thought I should give it a go. 20 mins of sipping in oxygen at a very rapid rate and the next thing I know I’m in the corner of a room, screaming in terror, my body kicking out, shouting fuck off you cu*nt with this big fat heavy lump in front of me that was my stepfather who used to sexually abuse me. Now he wasn’t there but the breath took me back to the traumatic experience and supported my body to complete the stress cycle I didn’t get to complete at 6 years old. It was wild and iI was shaken up to fuck after it.


Sat in what I can only describe as a prision cell room in north India I didn’t feel safe. I was scared, and back in that 6-year-olds body terrified her stepfather was about to talk in and rape her.


Now there were good and bad points to this.


THE BAD


The breathwork class didn’t have any focus on installing a sense of safety within the body so I was left rather retransmitted with zero support afterwards.


The tantra retreat iI went to left me feeling even more fearful of men, I mean I had already spent my childhood being pulled onto an old man’s lap, sex already felt so uncomfortable and like it was only for a man’s pleasure, paying to have some 70 years old70-year-old ‘guru’ telling me that sitting on his cock would heal me wasn’t exactly what I needed.