Hi, I’m Hannah.
Founder, mum, Reiki master — and someone who’s spent real time in the dark and found her way back. That’s exactly why nothing you bring will scare me.
People expect someone who does this work to be all love and light. I’m not, and honestly, I wouldn’t trust me if I were. I’ve spent a good part of my life in the shadow. This work exists because I found my way through it, and because I know how much it matters to have someone beside you who isn’t afraid to sit there too.
I was eleven when my brother died.
My family cracked open, and I did what a lot of us do — I built a bubble and climbed inside. I didn’t have the word “trauma” then. I just knew something in me had gone quiet, and it stayed quiet for years.
The healing was never in the light.
It was in facing the shadow.
I spent years running from the dark. Then I learned to look at it.
Through my teens I self-harmed, and depression became the weather I lived in. When I finally found the strength to stop hurting myself, I walked into relationships that hurt me instead. It was my step-grandmother who threw me a rope — not by fixing me, but by teaching me to trust my own instincts, and to stop running long enough to look at what I was running from.
I trained as a paediatric nurse and poured everything into caring for other people, a very acceptable way to avoid yourself. The depression didn’t budge. I did the therapies, the mental health services, all the right things, and they helped a little, but never touched the bottom of it. What finally shifted something was Reiki — not because it bathed me in light, but because it made me turn towards the parts of myself I’d spent decades avoiding.
Then the dark came back with everything it had.
Three children — and after my second, post-natal depression took me somewhere genuinely frightening. The shadow I thought I’d made peace with wasn’t finished with me.
I trained in Reiki II — twice, because I needed it that much — and slowly found my way back. Not fixed. Not “healed.” Just held, and honest, and here. An unexpected third pregnancy became its own kind of turning point: I came back to myself, and this time I stayed.
Burnt to ashes, but we rise again.
I don’t say that as a pretty slogan. I mean it the hard way: you have to go through the fire, sit in the ash, feel the whole of it — and that is how you rise. Not by pretending the dark away, but by walking through it and coming out stronger than before.
So I changed everything, and built this to be the person I needed in my own darkest rooms. There’s no judgment here, and nothing you bring will shock me. You don’t have to be positive, or grateful, or nearly-better. Bring the messy, furious, frightened, unspoken stuff — I’ll sit right there in it with you, for as long as it takes.
Wherever you are — even if it’s the dark — I’d be honoured to meet you there.
Hannah x