Burned by a Healer, Saved by Spirit
Finding spirit—and keeping it alive—even after betrayal in the name of healing.
My Spiritual Journey Didn’t Begin in a Church
—it began in 2011, in the midst of a divorce with two young boys at home. I had no spiritual practice, nor did I grow up with any kind of religion. But when my life cracked open, I found myself desperately seeking something bigger than my constant anxiety, my fears, and the panic attacks that had started to become debilitating daily visitors.
In the past, I had stretched my swollen body in a handful of prenatal yoga classes—but to be honest, yoga frustrated me. It was too slow. I preferred to run 5-10 miles or try to kill myself in high-energy workouts like Billy Blanks Taebo to push away the stress. Then one night, a friend invited me to a vinyasa yoga class. I hesitated but thought, “What the hell—let’s do a night yoga class,” hoping we’d go out for a glass of wine afterward.
We entered the room and I had to blink my eyes to adjust to the dim light that flickered with candles. The room was filled with glowing, strong bodies moving to new-age music. The hour ended—and something happened. I came out of that class feeling lighter, calmer, more grounded than probably ever! I didn’t even want that glass of wine! That night, I committed to 30 days straight of yoga. And that turned into something much bigger.
I began exploring all kinds of practices: yoga, breathwork, meditation, journaling, spiritual reading (authors like Drunvalo Melchizedek), and participating in indigenous ceremonies. I was high on life. It was as if I had finally found what had been missing—a connection to something greater. I was receiving signs. I was in alignment. I was in love with the universe. Bouncing around like Tinkerbell.
Beware the Spiritual Vampire
Fast forward to 2014. I took a girls' trip to Tulum, Mexico, and met a local nature guide. I was drawn to his passion for the environment—at the time, I was deep into my sustainability learning chapter—and he spoke of becoming a shaman. I truly believed the universe had sent him to me for a reason.
That relationship became a five-year-long nightmare.
We started an eco-friendly tour business together, and I entered into a romantic relationship with him. It wasn’t until I stumbled upon a book about narcissistic personality disorder that the fog began to lift. Every trait described this man: a grandiose sense of self-importance, a belief that he was uniquely special, a constant need for admiration, entitlement, exploitation. I really believed I was the problem! But he was gaslighting me, stealing money from our company, cheating—one of his lovers even showed up at my house for a yoga class to tell me how she had been “f#cking him the whole time we dated.” 🤯 The audacity!
I was physically ill during the final year. Stomach pain every day. I lost too much weight. I was drained. Depleted. And spiritually dead.
Losing Faith.
When I finally ended the relationship, I felt completely disconnected from spirit. I was empty. The wannabe shaman had used the language of healing and spirituality to manipulate others—especially women. He looked the part, said all the right things, but his actions were anything but healing. I was angry—not just at him, but at the universe. Why would Spirit send me a fake healer disguised as a gift? I began to question everything. Was spirituality just a fantasy? A way to con people out of money?
I spiraled. I was seeking external validation—trying to fill the emptiness with constant busyness and prioritizing the needs of others who hadn’t earned that place in my life, all in hopes of feeling like I was good enough. But none of it filled the void.
Coming Back to Myself
Then COVID happened. In the stillness, I began to return to the spiritual and mental wellness practices I had once loved—not because I’m a recovering empath who tends to overextend, but I wanted to feel whole and finally once and for all enough. I realized the narcissists kept finding me because I was stuck in the pattern of “helping” others to feel worthy. That had to stop.
So I began meditating again. Doing breathwork and journaling when I felt anxious. Moving my body through yoga every damn day. Slowly, I started to trust Spirit again.
Not all who wear the robes of healing are there to help. True spiritual teachers empower you to trust yourself—not become dependent on them.
I found authentic healers—because now I knew what the fake ones looked like. I reconnected with my intuition, my body, my joy, and what truly matters to me.
It’s a Forever Practice
What I’ve learned over the past 15 years is that life doesn’t stop throwing challenges at us. But when we meet them with resistance, fear, or avoidance, the pain only grows. The more we can surrender, the more we align. But to do that, we have to stay connected—mind, body, and spirit.
Spirituality isn’t a destination. It’s a practice. A forever practice. And I choose to keep practicing—to be able to live up to my potential for as long as I can.
I like these words from Dylan Thomas:
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So I will keep showing up for my life—again and again.
Through:
- Physical movement
- Healthy food
- Meditation
- Breathwork
- Yoga
- Journaling
- Sacred ceremony
- Time in nature
- Laughter and play with friends
Because healing isn’t linear. It’s cyclical. And it always starts from within—no matter how many times we have to restart or reconnect. And even when it feels like Spirit is playing a trick on you.
In the end, my Spiritual Vampire left me with many lessons—and five years later, I understand the why. I can almost be grateful. 😅
