#194 One Year Later: On Survival, Care, and Transformation

Becoming Batman, Receiving Dead Frogs, and Learning How to be Held

Content Warning: Sexual Assault

Before I begin—

Tomorrow at 9am Bali time, the extra early-bird discount for Bali Bhakti Flow: Mantras for the Heart ends. It’s currently 25% off and will drop to 15% off after that. (A price difference of $225 versus $255!) If you’ve been feeling called, now is the time!

And a big thank you to our newest paid subscribers of Substack this month: Nathalie, Barbara, Rachana and Stacey. Thank you - it’s because of you I can sustain this work!

---

Tomorrow marks one year since I was sexually assaulted.

I don’t write about it much anymore. There are a few reasons for that.

First, it no longer occupies my mind every day. It isn’t the center of my life the way it once was.

Second, I became more aware over time that speaking in detail about sexual assault can be triggering for others. Now, when I reference it, it’s usually vague: “something bad happened to me.”

Third, is that I’m no longer comfortable in general with letting people into such private parts of my life. There’s now a lot of things I am no longer comfortable sharing with a public audience (which is so weird, because I used to live so publicly before, so vulnerably, sharing my stories).

And yet, when I was writing about it more openly, the feedback was largely positive. Many people told me it helped them feel less alone.

The truth is, I never set out to help anyone.

When I first wrote about what happened, it was private - only for paid subscribers. It was my own quiet processing. Later, I began sharing more publicly for two reasons.

One: people had travelled for my retreats and programs, and I wasn’t showing up as the teacher they expected. I felt I owed them honesty.

Two: I was horrified by how common drug-facilitated sexual assault is, and I wanted to make other women aware.

I had no idea that someone could drug me through something as simple as a bottle of water. I thought it was only alcohol. If I had known, I genuinely believe it might never have happened.

So I wrote out of shock. Out of grief. Out of a desire to warn other women.

Not out of any plan to become “a voice.”