The story behind
Healing hannah 

I grew up in a small village in the north, surrounded by wide open fields and quiet streets. From the outside, everything seemed calm — but inside, I often felt lost. I was a sensitive child, constantly picking up on the moods of others, struggling to find where I belonged. I felt like I had to shrink or shape myself to fit into a world that didn’t seem to have space for who I really was.

School was a challenge — not because I couldn’t learn, but because my mind wandered elsewhere. I longed for deeper conversations, for meaning, for understanding. Instead, I learned early on how to perform, how to smile when I felt like crying, how to disappear in plain sight.

In my teenage years, the heaviness grew. Silent waves of sadness came and went, until eventually they stayed longer than they left. I didn’t know how to talk about it — and the people around me didn’t know how to ask. My home life slowly became more unstable. One parent left. The other was emotionally absent. I learned to fend for myself, but what I really needed was someone who could see through the mask.

At my lowest, I felt completely disconnected — from others, from my body, from any sense of future. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t know how to live either. I looked for relief in the wrong places: in chaos, in unhealthy relationships, in numbing out the pain. Not because I didn’t care — but because I cared too much, and had nowhere to put it.

Looking back, the trauma wasn’t just in the events — it was in the deep loneliness that followed. The moments where I was overwhelmed, hurting, and no one came. That’s the part that cut the deepest.

My personal story

After stepping away from school, I chose a quieter life. I worked in a small shop and kept things simple. I told myself that structure and calm were what I needed. In many ways, they were. The routine gave me something steady to hold on to. But underneath, I was still carrying a lot.

The truth is, I had completely shut down. The pain felt too heavy to face, so I pushed it aside. I disconnected from my feelings, from my body, and from what I needed. I kept going, head down, until I simply couldn’t anymore.

At some point, I hit a wall. Burnout. But it wasn’t just from work. It was years of stored emotions that were finally asking to be felt. It was more than tiredness. It was unresolved trauma rising to the surface.

I tried therapy. I tried mindfulness and yoga. But talking about the pain didn’t move it. I needed to feel it, fully and physically. That’s when I found somatic work, breathwork, and later on, plant medicine. These practices didn’t just help me manage. They helped me begin to heal.

With every breath and every session, I started to reclaim pieces of myself. It wasn’t always graceful. There were dark days, resistance, and doubts. But underneath all of it, something deeper was growing. Trust. Self-love. Strength.

Now, what I carry is not the wound, but the wisdom it gave me. Healing became purpose. And from that place, I now hold space for others to find their way back to themselves.

Or maybe… you recognize yourself in my story.
Maybe you're wondering if transformation is possible for you too — and whether I might be the one to walk alongside you.

I know what it’s like to pull yourself out of a dark place. To fall ten times and stand up eleven. To fight for your light.

That’s why I can meet you in the depth — not from a place of theory, but from lived experience.

I know these methods not only as a guide, but as someone who’s walked through them — breath by breath, layer by layer.
I’m here to support you with honesty, gentleness, and no judgment.

I offer you my hand.
You don’t have to do this alone.

I see you.

Something stirring inside?