becoming the woman I was meant to be: my journey of inner alchemy

Last summer, something shifted. Not suddenly, but deeply—like a slow, quiet earthquake beneath the surface of my life. I felt it in my bones, in the weight of my thoughts, in the silence between two breaths. Something had to change.

And so, I began.

I stopped drinking alcohol—not out of guilt, but out of love for the clarity I was craving. I started waking up before the sun, greeting each day with a sacred morning ritual: stillness, breath, intention. Meditation became my anchor, yoga my moving prayer.

Every morning, I light a candle, open my journal, and let my thoughts bleed onto paper. I read something that nourishes my soul. I take care of myself—not just the body, but the invisible parts: the tender places, the broken edges, the wild longing.

This has been a journey of inner alchemy. Of remembering. Of unbecoming who I thought I had to be, and slowly becoming who I really am.

And somewhere along the way, art found me. Or maybe I found myself in art.

Now, every brushstroke carries the weight of all that I’ve lived, all that I’m healing. My canvases hold fragments of silence, of joy, of transformation. They are born from the chaos and the clarity, the softness and the storm.

This is not just a lifestyle shift. It’s a rebirth.

And I’m still becoming—day by day, breath by breath, canvas by canvas.

⸻