I went from a broken-hearted spiritual cynic to a practically mended energy healing advocate and here’s how I did it.
Two months ago, I was the embodiment of a sacrilegious late-born millennial who could count the amount of times she’d been to church on one hand. I’d fidget during school wellbeing sessions and associate yoga with frozen yoghurt. I swore by the idea that chardonnay and Cadbury could solve more self-disdain and emotional trauma than any mental therapy because counselling was for weaklings and meditation for airy-fairies.
