Chapter Three: A Powerful Transformation

As summer bloomed I felt myself taking root, grounding deeper into the soil of self-discovery, while new buds of possibility reached toward the sky.

The frost of exhaustion, anxiety, and self-doubt was beginning to recede, though its remnants still clung stubbornly to my bones. Each day, I fought through the lingering weight of brain fog, panic, and nightmares, but I also felt the slow, deliberate return of warmth — of life.

I listened to my body, giving it what it needed to bloom again. Some days called for rest, others for sunlight, and on some, I found myself moving — biking, tending to household projects, exploring the world beyond my own four walls. With each act of self-care, I felt a gentle stirring beneath the surface, a whisper of renewal.

In this season of awakening, I set out to truly know myself for what felt like the first time. I explored new hobbies, devoured books outside my usual tastes, let music move me in ways I hadn’t before. I spent time in deep conversations with loved ones, and even deeper solitude with myself. The more I unearthed, the more I realized a piece of the puzzle was still missing. I understood the factors that had led to my health challenges, but there was an underlying question I couldn’t shake: Why?

Why had I chosen an unhealthy marriage? Why had I stayed in it for so long? Why had I strayed so far from my original career path? Why did my life feel like a pair of ill-fitting shoes, forever pinching and rubbing in all the wrong places? Why had I never truly felt at home within myself?

As the questions about my past and present swirled like restless leaves in the wind, the weight of my uncertain future loomed on the horizon, vast and unshaped. The longer I was away from my corporate job, the clearer it became how much it had been eroding me. The thought of returning sent an icy shiver through my spine, a bone-deep knowing that if I stayed, I wouldn’t make it out unscathed. I began to take stock. What parts of my work had brought me joy? What had drained me? Had I strayed from my intended path for a reason, or had I simply been lost in the storm?

I sifted through possibilities, considering degrees, certifications, and new career avenues. Addiction counseling seemed like a close fit, and for a while, I leaned toward it. But logistical barriers cast a shadow on this possibility — uncertainty about work placements, the possibility of uprooting my life. It felt almost right, but not quite. I resigned myself to the idea of returning to corporate work while studying something that would help me build a different future, a half-measure that brought momentary relief but no real resolution because – what would I study?

Then, by sheer happenstance, I stumbled upon clinical hypnotherapy. At an acupuncture clinic, of all places, I read the bio of a local clinical hypnotherapist and felt an immediate, visceral knowing. A spark. A pull. A whisper of destiny. I dove into research, scouring schools and accreditation boards, searching for something reputable, something real. And then I found it — the Canadian Academy of Clinical Hypnotherapy, one of only two accredited schools in the country. It was exactly what I had been searching for. I applied. I interviewed. I was accepted.

It was only then that I remembered: years ago, when I was crawling my way out of my broken marriage, a hypnotherapist had helped me find my footing. Since then, I had seen various counselors and psychologists, each guiding me through different chapters of my healing. But that hypnotherapist had been my first step. My first real transformation. And now, as if life had been patiently waiting for me to catch up, I realized: this is what I’m meant to do.

While I pieced together my future, my past was also being rewritten. The diagnostic process with my psychiatrist and psychologist was slow, meticulous, and draining, but when the final verdict came, it was both a revelation and a confirmation — confirming burnout, PTSD, high levels of anxiety, depression and emotional dysregulation, but finally revealing the underlying cause — severe ADHD, combined type. The words settled over me, equal parts weight and lightness. I grieved a lifetime of struggling to keep up, of feeling like I was perpetually a step behind, of internalizing inadequacy and self-doubt — it all suddenly made sense. I wasn’t broken. I wasn’t lazy. I wasn’t failing. My brain simply worked differently, and now I had the key to unlocking my true needs and my full potential.

I felt myself settling into this new reality. I devoured information about ADHD, mapping my strengths and weaknesses, learning how to navigate a world that had never been designed for minds like mine. I sought out professionals to guide me, unlearning the habits and beliefs that no longer served me while learning new skills, acceptance, and how to thrive. It was still a struggle. In many ways, it felt like a death — the death of the person I had believed myself to be. Like the trees shedding their final leaves, the last remnants of my old life fell away, leaving behind only bare, raw truth. But even in loss, there was beauty. I was returning to school, into an area of study I was intrigued by and passionate about. An opportunity that breathed fresh life into my bones and gave me the energy to keep going. Hope. A homecoming.

This wasn’t the onset of another long, bleak winter. No, this was something different. This was a season of gathering strength, learning, growing. This was the quiet before the bloom.

Spring would come again. And when it did, I would emerge—not as the person I had been, but as the person I was always meant to be.