Rebirth- Part 2.

Iris was born with 7 minutes, 7 days after her estimated due date.

“If a woman does not look into the issues of her own deadness and murder, she remains obedient to the dictates of the predator. Once she opens the room in the psyche that shows how dead, how slaughtered she is, she sees how various parts of her feminine nature and her instinctual psyche have been killed off and died a lowly death behind a façade of wealth. Now that she sees this, now that she registers how captured she is and how much psychic life is at stake, now she can assert herself in an even more powerful manner” – Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.


24th November 2019


Iris was born in 7 minutes. 7 days after her estimated due date. I fell to my knees just in time as the midwife pushed a pillow under my knees as my girl came rushing to meet me. I held her to my breast and cried with such joy, her little face was so calm, so peaceful, so knowing. She was staring right into me. As with a wave, I was elated but then came the crash. I climbed on the bed, shaking, cold, feeling frayed and as though I were half rubbed out. Iris suckled at my breast, she was so strong and knew exactly what she wanted.

I lay back, I recall a huge feeling of relief but then began wondering at all the blood around me. So much blood and I was aware that I was still bleeding. I looked at the faces around me, they looked concerned. All too quickly they were putting their hands on me, in me, examining me, pressing firmly on my tummy, trying the locate the source of the bleeding. Why wouldn’t it stop? I felt as though I was floating above myself. They took my tiny baby and placed her in Chris’s arms. The midwife told me that my uterus was not contracting and that they needed to give me a syntocin drip to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t stop shaking, my teeth were chattering, I was thirsty, and I felt so strange. I knew, with the strongest conviction I have ever felt that I was dying. I nodded to the midwife as she put the canula in my hand. Tears fell quietly as I lay still and felt the warm flow of life-blood leaving me. I said goodbye to my  beautiful children. I was waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Just waiting to float away.

I woke up.

Within days after I gave birth, I started having the strangest experiences. Flashbacks, moments of feeling raw and completely exposed. No tears. Just Anger. Rage. absence. I was constantly hovering above myself. Memories that I didn’t recognise started inserting themselves into my day, I would wince in pain as they appeared at the forefront of my mind – were these my memories? As the weeks passed, anxiety became heavier in my chest. It was the lowest I had ever felt and into the depths I plummeted. I smiled externally but inside I was screaming.

At the beginning of March, I reached out to a friend for a referral to a psychotherapist. I sat there on the couch. My throat felt so tight but when I started talking, I could not stop.  She listened to me as I told her about Iris’s birth, about the sudden flashbacks and recalling things from my childhood and early teenage years. I told her about my feelings of anger, rage, and numbness. I had spent my entire life repressing these memories and feelings so deeply I did not honestly believe they belonged to me. She asked me if I was suicidal and I said that I did not want to die, but I did not want to live either.


After our first few sessions I came away knowing that those memories did indeed belong to me. I experienced a therapy hangover for days after each of our sessions.  I asked her why I had essentially forgotten those memories and she explained it was a common coping mechanism where repeated trauma had been experienced. It was how I was surviving, how I had always survived. The traumatic post birth experience with Iris, followed by Rose reaching an age where I first experienced a significant trauma allowed those memories to crowd past my defences. I could not push it down anymore. I had been living a half-life.

So here I was. The basement door was open, ever so slightly and I was peering in at the mess, the slaughter, the deadness, the pain. As I continued into the depths, I began to experience a lightening of my being, my anxiety eased, and I began to crave expansion. I wanted to live.




First diary entry for 2020-

26th April

“There’s a feeling of standing on the edge of something. How do I feel? Like I want to connect with the wider fabric of the world”


My anxiety was my most important messenger, it had been there all along trying to signal to me that there was an undertow. It had taken my mind to truly believe my body was dying for me to wake up. I needed to remember because something was terribly wrong, I needed to feel, I needed to allow the wounds to heal by allowing them to fully be expressed. With the guidance of my therapist and my own intuition I went into the psychic basement and carried the hurt parts of myself out into the light. In doing so I was amazed as my anxiety dissolved over the following months. My anxiety had been a symptom of the unhealed wounds. It had been the response to me ‘not feeling’ what needed to be felt, not seeing what needed to be seen and not healing what needed to be healed.  In shutting out every painful experience the parts of myself that were vulnerable, authentic, and true expression of my soul had been exiled.


Becoming conscious was painful, it was uncomfortable but paradoxically it is the best I have ever felt. I came of my anti-depressants after being on and off them since I was 19. I was, and am finally free to explore me, to explore the world around me with clarity. To see past the layers.  To allow things, relationships and identities that no longer served me to die. I claimed my power, my divine feminine, my wisdom and embraced my shadow with fierce love.



As I write this Iris will be 1 next Tuesday. Now that I understand that I am happening to life, not the other way around, I am so elated to be on this journey. I believe firmly that you can only skirt around your pain, ignore what is in the psychic basement for so long before it bubbles up and demands you to pay attention. If this at all resonates with you, here are the 4 elements that stand out for me the most when it comes to my initial healing this year, freeing myself from anxiety, developing self-compassion and now my ongoing journey (just to note, I am not a medical professional, this is purely my experience, my truth and I say this with absolute clarity, there is no magic formula, there is no direct path to healing and ending mental suffering, because of course I still suffer, because suffering is what it is to feel and there’s A LOT  of emotion to feel our world right now . What I do believe is that the more we share our individual experiences the more wisdom we will have as a collective)..

Here are my catalysts for healing

  1. Meditation and mindfulness. I had been resisting for so long but has allowed me to expand, become attuned to body, understanding the mind, connecting to my deeper knowing and my spiritual self. Here is where it all started;  the Holistic Core Restore® ZenWoman®programme – a beautiful entry point if you would like to join me!
  2. Talking therapy with a phycologist – I had done CBT in the past, which was useful to a point, but what I personally needed was someone to hold safe space in order for me to sort through my experiences and begin healing.
  3. Connecting to my feminine energy and following my intuition – here is  a link to my friend Jenny Wrens 7 week Awaken Your Wild Feminine course here
  4. Reiki energy healing – this has been profound for me in conjunction with meditation and understanding how the energy of trauma is stored in the body – a link to my Reiki Therapist here.



My hope is that by sharing my truth you will know, that just like so many others have done, it is possible to heal, transform and truly connect to yourself, know yourself after one or many events that have caused trauma and suffering.

Into the darkness you go, to see that it is where your most radiant light is.


Samala x