My Story so Far

Trigger Warning: The following text contains sensitive content related to sexual abuse and trauma.

It's often assumed that I was born with unshakeable confidence, but that couldn't be further from my truth. In my journey towards a strong and resilient mind, I had to challenge everything I believed and find my way back home to myself.

While my childhood had plenty of beautiful moments filled with joy, love, laughter and luxury, there were also moments marked by danger, confusion, and deliberate harm caused by people around us. At five years old, I experienced both sexual, mental and emotional abuse at the hands of an evil woman who worked in my home Fatima and her husband Gonzalo. The abuse went beyond the sexual, and I endured daily acts of cruelty; one seemingly small example is how she would braid my hair so tightly it would make me dizzy and my scalp would bleed. I vividly remember being dragged up seven flights of stairs by one of these plaits, my skin getting raw from carpet burn, then forcefully thrown into scalding bath water along with my toys. It was so subtle at times it didn’t seem real, she combined her cruelty with kindness making it a complete headfuck. I never felt safe enough to share what was happening, they threatened my life and that of my family if I did, so I stayed quiet.

At eight years old, my South American mother, already grappling with postpartum depression and grieving the recent loss of her own mother back in Venezuela, needed support and care. Instead, she became a victim of a negligent psychiatrist whose practices were grossly inadequate. This same psychiatrist later faced accusations of sexual harassment by multiple patients, which made headlines. To my disbelief, he was allowed to continue practising and still does. I recently discovered his Twitter account, where I found him making jokes and celebrating immigrants drowning at sea and sharing tweets with Swastika symbols. This confirmed what I had always suspected, it hadn’t been negligence, it was medical racism. As a result of his inept practices, my mother was bedridden for months. No one could explain to my young mind why she was physically present but completely unavailable.

By nine, I had severe Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I was too ashamed to tell anyone, having witnessed the frightening consequences of being mentally unwell.

Despite my age, I felt so much responsibility as the eldest daughter, a self-imposed pressure to excel. I was sensitive and hypervigilant, my fear of the dark and ghosts intensified when I was moved to a room at the top of the house, where the stairs creaked at night. It felt like I had stepped into adulthood prematurely. After Fatima and Gonzalo the predators left, we had a string of other dangerous carers in the home, one who threatened to kill my mother, one who killed my guinea pig. It was chaotic. My grandmother promised boarding school would be the answer to the lack of safety I felt at home. But there my fears and loneliness only grew. The ghosts were more terrifying, my first bedroom was haunted and creaked at night and I was surrounded by bored and equally depressed strangers obsessed with appearance, sex, and being thin. On a constant search for something to ridicule.

By the time I was eleven, I was already drowning, unaware of the trauma that lay beneath the surface. My external world was far from ideal, boarding school meant very expensive living and sharing bedrooms with bullies, predators, thieves and older girls talking about men and sex. When life became tough and sadness overwhelmed me. I lived with the teachers who made me feel like a failure, ungrateful for the privileges I was surrounded by. Deep down, even though I doubted every thought I had, I knew this culture was not designed for someone like me. I felt like an alien, like I was in the wrong place, the wrong culture. Daily incidents compounded the beliefs already ingrained in my nervous system:

The world is unsafe, people are untrustworthy, and in order to be safe, I have to be perfect. I felt completely alone.

At 13 I struggled with my focus, low grades, and a growing feeling of inadequacy. I saw myself as too fat, too brown, too different, and too dysfunctional. I felt like I didn't fit in with my peers, who seemed to thrive effortlessly. They got it, I didn’t. Teachers tried to use others successes as inspiration, but it only made me feel like an expensive burden, constantly letting everyone down. I had nothing to look forward to except temporary comfort from sugary foods, which led to disordered eating habits. I became skilled at hiding my struggles, unable to imagine a future where life would ever be okay.

At 14, I was in full-on problem-child mode, desperate to fit in but feeling that the road to acceptance was impossible. It seemed easier to conserve my energy and avoid trying at all. Seeking help, I was taken to the family doctor, who diagnosed me with a "chemical imbalance" in my brain, similar to my mother's condition, he prescribed me lithium and said in plain English, I was destined to always suffer. The news left me even more depressed, it had stripped away any hope I had left for a happy life.

If this was as good as life would ever get, according to a medical doctor, what was the point of living?

By 17, I struggled to get out of bed, overwhelmed by the fear of failing my A-Levels. I felt intellectually inadequate and believed I was too stupid even to try, leading to a sense of disconnection from my education and myself.

At 18, I was in a cycle of visiting different therapists, sharing my story as if I were auditioning for a role in a play. This performance had become one of the few things I felt "good" at. My OCD was escalating, filling my mind with catastrophic thoughts and complicated rituals, I now had full on doomsday anxiety, and I felt completely detached from reality, I felt insane. I resorted to mindless eating, attempting various diets that ultimately proved futile. I became fixated on being thin, knowing everything, and trying to please everyone around me, especially men.

By the time I reached 19, thoughts of suicide plagued me daily.

I had become adept at hiding my experience, leaving those around me unaware of my suffering. During this time, I was put on a trial medication by a psychiatrist who made several inappropriate advances towards me. He held a top position at a prestigious mental hospital in London until his highly suspicious recent death on the cusp of his client relations being investigated. The medication he prescribed was originally intended for seizure control and had the side effect of paralyzing my face when I laughed. My fuck-it mindset, self medicating, alcoholism and partying to numb myself created an environment where I was vulnerable to further sexual assault and harassment, which sadly occurred multiple more times, plunging me further into chaos. I felt disconnected from my own voice, choosing silence as it seemed easier, and I believed it was my fate and my fault.

At 21, I made the decision to move to Barcelona, looking for escape. There I had a sense of freedom, which allowed me to reconnect with my creativity, something that had always been a source of stability in my life. For a brief moment, I experienced a sense of peace and found love in a relationship, something I had never had before. However, the universe had another blow in store for me when my father was diagnosed with cancer. Although he was initially given a year to live, he defied the odds and survived for another 13 years. In that time he underwent over 60 surgeries. Witnessing my father's decline and deterioration took a heavy toll on me. Nothing ever seemed to be okay. Life had been a perfect storm for me until a pivotal moment when my mother stumbled upon an advertisement for Cognitive Hypnotherapy. Intrigued, she booked an appointment with its creator, and little did I know that this would become the foundation of my transformation. The knowledge I gained about speaking to my subconscious mind and engaging my creative faculties breathed new life into me. I had a profound realization:

I was never truly broken but I had been repeatedly failed by those in positions of authority who were meant to provide safety, solace and restoration. Instead I had collected feedback which reinforced the belief that I was irreparably damaged and unworthy of love and care.

Adding to the complexity of my experiences was the interweaving of privilege. Each expensive interaction served only to confirm the stark reality I held onto. Cognitive Hypnotherapy became the bedrock upon which I built a new life, working to become the person I had always needed in every iteration of myself. Looking back, I find peace in the fact that I resisted the urge to end my own life during those dark moments. I also take pride in the fact that I no longer rely on medication as I was once told I would always depend on it (though I hold no judgement or issue with medication).

I have triumphed over pains that could have easily taken me out me had I not learned the tools and principles that now guide my path. Today, I live a life made up of everything my younger self wanted but believed were out of reach. With a foundation of grounding and trust, I am fulfilling my aspirations. I live with the dog of my childhood fantasies and the man of my dreams, who is also a trained Hypnotherapist and my producer. He continually inspires me and together, we work on creative endeavours.

I am proud of the person I have become. Not only have I learned to regulate my own nervous system, but I have also cultivated a successful business that fills me with happiness. Moreover, I have had the privilege of helping countless individuals who have felt trapped and traumatized, guiding them towards lives free from the shackles of their past.

Through firsthand experience, I have witnessed the transformative power of these principles and tools. I want you to know that change is possible and there is hope.

Your story, just like mine, has the potential to become a catalyst for extraordinary growth. I am not unique; I simply possessed a determination to find my way back home. To not settle for what I was told would be and now, I want to extend that to you, guiding you on your own journey of self-discovery. Together, we can unravel the mysteries that have shaped who you are, and I will show you that your mind is malleable, and capable of healing with the right support and tools. Your past does not have to dictate your future. Let me walk you home.