The Wildwoven Path of Becoming

Transformation isn’t just something you go through.

It’s something that goes through you.

Transformation shakes your foundations, unspools who you thought you were, and demands that you become something new.

And yet—society teaches us we should struggle through these seismic shifts alone. And that we should hide or cut off the parts of our story that are unappealing and messy.

That they show parts of us that were too wild, too much, or not enough.

But what if that was never the way?

What if real transformation isn’t about exile—but integration?

I love a good becoming story. Katniss in The Hunger Games. Hermione in Harry Potter. The whole “look how much I’ve evolved” moment.

But lately I’ve realized —it isn’t just about where we’re going. It’s also about what we try to leave behind — and shouldn’t.

This is my integration story.

Bridget, Thelma, and Neytiri: The Versions of Me

For me, the heroines that most capture my life before this current evolution are Bridget Jones, Thelma (from Thelma & Louise), and Neytiri from Avatar.

💥Bridget – Chaotic, funny and REAL

Bridget Jones’ character is self-deprecating, desperate to join the ranks of her “smug married” friends, obsessed with her health, and gets into all sorts of silly situations she has to extricate herself from. Not exactly a self-possessed feminist.

But here’s the thing.

I LOVE that Bridget Jones version of me.

This version of me has SO MANY STORIES. Embarrassing. Funny. Tender. Sweet. Awful.

Like the time I broke up with a boyfriend because he called me whining about his overflowing sink —the same day my best friend’s dad died. (He was over at our house when she got the call, so he knew! I sent him home. I was kind. But firm. But then when he called me an hour later to whine about this? Well, it was time to say good bye for good.)

Or the time I tried to strategize my way into love— attempting to reverse-engineer the perfect romance with an Italian ex-coworker, complete with sambuca, harmonicas, and a night so good it belonged in a novel—only to ruin it by sending him a series of deeply enthusiastic emails about crocuses while he was just… on vacation.

And all those moments dancing on pool tables and cartwheeling across the street? I wouldn’t trade those for the world.

This version of me? She was a bit bumbling and chaotic, she liked to have fun, and she wore her heart on her sleeve—but she was living. Fully, messily, unapologetically living. 

So instead of trying to pretend these stories never happened, I’ve learned to share them.

These stories are relatable for many.

They’re often funny (now.)

And although I’m older and wiser, this part of my life is still part of who I am today.

Thelma – the Fight for What’s Sacred

As for Thelma?
Well, without getting into all the gory details, let’s just say I didn’t choose to drive my car off a cliff with my best friend.

But I did learn the hard way that society loves to blame women for men’s massive, gaping, Grand Canyon-sized flaws.

Because here’s the real kicker: If Thelma & Louise had been told from a man’s perspective, we all know how it would’ve gone.

• Thelma should’ve known better.
• Thelma shouldn’t have been drinking.
• Thelma shouldn’t have trusted a man to be kind.

Meanwhile, the guy who assaulted her? Barely a blip in the moral outrage department.

And that part of my story? The one I don’t tell in detail? It has made me a FIERCE defender of women against the patriarchal forces that devalue us, discard us, and then blame us for the damage they caused.

Or, as America Ferrera so perfectly put it in The Barbie Movie:

“It is literally impossible to be a woman …You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining.”

And I am sick to death of that.

Because here’s what’s true:

• Thelma deserved better.
• Women deserve better.
• And I will go to the mat for any woman who has ever been made to carry shame for a man’s failure to be a decent human being.

 🍃 Neytiri: The One Who Knew—And The One Who Forgot

And then there’s Neytiri.

I grew up inside Olympic National Park, surrounded by old-growth trees and wilderness. The land wasn’t just a backdrop—it was alive, sacred, woven into me.

So when I first saw Neytiri in Avatar, something in me recognized her. She wasn’t just a warrior—she was a protector of something ancient, something worth defending.

I’d like to say I only relate with the first-movie Neytiri –the fierce, untamed warrior who taught Jake Sully how to see. The one who led, not followed. The one who knew her place was woven into the land itself—not inside some war-driven, bro-capitalist version of power.

But.

I am also the second-movie Neytiri.

The one who shrank herself.
The one who followed orders instead of leading.
The one who let someone else be the voice, the power, the authority.
The one who tried to fit inside a world that was never built for her.

I have given away my power. I have convinced myself that I needed to be less, be smaller, be more palatable.

I have tried to shape myself into something the patriarchy would accept.
And when that failed, I blamed myself for not fitting.

I became the Neytiri who followed Jake Sully into battle instead of leading him into something deeper.

And then I woke up.

Here’s the thing … Neytiri was never meant to follow.
She was meant to lead. To fight for something wilder, older, more real.

So am I. (And so are YOU.)

Neytiri isn’t separate from or better than Bridget or Thelma.

Because each of these characters embody the challenges of being a woman in a society dominated by men and society’s “rules” for women.

I realized that all my stories have contributed to the strength I now have to stand up for what I believe in.

This fierce, courageous, resilient, imperfect, messy, fully integrated version of me is the one picking up Wonder Woman’s Lasso of Truth.

She’s the one standing in the fire.

She’s the one saying, enough.

✂️ We Don’t Get to Slice and Dice Our Past Selves

There’s no clean scalpel cut between who we were and who we’re becoming. We are all nesting dolls—carrying every version of ourselves inside.

And yet, we’re constantly told to shed parts of ourselves, to let go of old identities, to shame ourselves for the things that men did to us, to kill off the versions of ourselves that don’t fit neatly into the story we want to tell now.

But that approach is wrong.

Healing isn’t about exile—it’s about integration.

The same you who once believed in fairy tales, the you who stayed too long, the you who didn’t know better (but was doing her best) carries the wisdom you need.

How do you reclaim those bits and pieces of you?

How do you fill the cracks with gold or weave the connecting tapestry between the messy parts of your life you’ve tried to bury and the sacred gifts that only you can offer the world?

🐦‍🔥 That’s Where I Come In.

I don’t have all the answers.

But I have deep understanding and compassion for the messy unexpected tangled up pieces that have to be brought into the light you as you rise from the ashes and reclaim your whole self.

The work I do isn’t just about guiding people through transformation—although that is my superpower. 

It’s about changing how we understand transformation altogether.

You don’t have to exile your past selves. You don’t have to “fake it ’til you make it” and pretend you have it all together.

You can stop fighting yourself and start moving through change in a way that integrates all the tangled up moments of your life.

I can help.

Because this path you’re on? It’s winding. It’s messy. And sometimes it turns you into goo. 

But that’s not failure. That’s transformation. That’s power. That’s you—mid-becoming.

Choose your next step from the options below. ⬇️⬇️⬇️