I was born in London into a home where violence and instability were daily realities. The first seven years of a child’s life shape their nervous system, their sense of safety, and their entire emotional programming and mine were built in fear. By then, I had already learned to shrink, to brace, and to stay quiet in order to survive.

 When I was eight years old, we fled to Wales seeking safety. Crossing that emotional and physical border was the first step toward a different life, but escape did not mean healing. The trauma had already rooted itself inside my body in my breath, my silence, and the way my nervous system stayed permanently on alert. I could barely speak. I didn’t just feel unsafe, I had learned to disappear.

The violence continued to ripple through my teenage years, and I eventually left home completely at sixteen. I grew up surrounded by violent men, and yet, instead of turning that pain into hatred, I developed a deep understanding that their behaviour often came from unresolved trauma, emotional suppression, and generational wounds that were never healed. I never excused the harm but I recognised that unhealed pain becomes recycled pain. I wished, even then, that someone had created safe spaces for men to heal before their wounds became weapons.

 It wasn’t until my early thirties that I truly began to heal not just mentally, but emotionally, spiritually, and somatically. It took years of embodiment work, breathwork, movement, emotional release, and nervous system repair to finally understand the beauty of life and what it feels like to live in a body that is no longer in constant survival.

 Wales became the land where I slowly rebuilt myself where I moved from fear into safety, from silence into voice, and from dissociation into presence.

 Even now, it breaks my heart to know that there are children living the life I once lived and adults still quietly trapped in the same emotional survival cycle. I think of men who have never been given permission to soften. I think of parents carrying trauma into their parenting while desperately wishing not to pass it on. I think of children whose nervous systems are being shaped right now by fear instead of safety. I think of how many people are still holding pain they were never meant to carry alone.

 This is why I created The Angel Healing Collective CIC a trauma-informed community sanctuary where nervous systems can finally exhale. A place where healing is not rushed or clinical, but soft, embodied, and safe. A place for women reclaiming their voices, for men who are ready to unravel years of suppression, for parents who want to break generational cycles, and for children whose nervous systems still have time to be rewired with calm and connection instead of fear.