The Client Chair: Where Healing Begins

Every healer begins as a client—sitting in the rubble of their own undoing, searching for breath, meaning, and the strength to keep going.

I didn’t come to this work because I was born enlightened. I didn’t inherit some divine healing gift wrapped in gold ribbon. I came to this path because I was broken—splintered by grief, drowning in anxiety, and exhausted by a life lived out of alignment.

At my lowest, I was selfish in love, disconnected from purpose, tangled in family trauma, and haunted by the silent ache of my dad’s passing. I wore masks. I performed. I numbed. Until one day, I couldn't anymore.

I stood on a train platform, with the weight of it all pressing so hard on my chest I could hardly breathe. I had decided: it was over. One step, and the pain would end. But life had other plans. Just as I moved toward the edge, a gust of wind swept through the station, throwing rubbish into my face—so unexpected it jolted me out of my trance. I bent down to gather the trash, annoyed, disoriented. Among it was a flyer for a free meditation class.

It felt like the universe was speaking. I got on the train—not to end things, but to find something. I cancelled work and went to that class. I sat in the back, arms crossed, heart numb. The teacher guided us gently through breath and affirmation. “You are here for a reason. Life unfolds in ways we cannot yet see.”

Something cracked. For the first time in years, I felt seen. And then, I cried. I wept for two hours—grief, shame, guilt, fear—all of it came pouring out. Something in me knew I was meant to be there.

That class didn’t just change my life. It saved it.

That moment is why I now teach meditation. Why I hold space for others to unravel, rebuild, and remember. Because healing isn’t a gift we give. It’s one we pass forward—earned in the quiet, brutal, beautiful spaces of our own becoming.

This is The Client Chair. It’s where my story began. And it’s where yours can too.