The Quiet Release

This session focused on the Solar Plexus Chakra, or Manipura.

The Solar Plexus Chakra is connected to personal power, confidence, purpose, and the courage to move forward. It reminds us to trust ourselves, embrace who we are, and take intentional action. Its element is fire — representing strength, transformation, and inner energy. Its colour is yellow — symbolising confidence, clarity, and vitality.

The affirmations we worked with were:

• “I give myself permission to be my authentic self.”

• “I am motivated to pursue my true purpose.”

Looking back, I can understand why this session felt so significant.

Whether my hospital visit was connected to everything my body had been processing, or whether it was simply unfortunate timing, I may never truly know.

But one thing became clear afterwards — I wasn’t responding to my emotions in quite the same way anymore.

The following morning, I felt well enough to continue with my day, although I moved slowly, giving my body time to recover.

Without planning to, I found myself sorting through some of Paige’s belongings.

For months, I simply hadn’t been emotionally ready.

This time felt different.

I wasn’t forcing myself to let go, nor was I desperately holding on. I was simply taking one small step at a time — deciding what to keep and what I was ready to part with.

Whenever emotions rose, I stopped.

I closed my eyes.
I breathed.
Then I continued.

There was no pressure to finish everything in one day.

“Healing doesn’t happen by forcing ourselves to move forward. Sometimes it happens through small moments of courage, one step at a time.”

Little by little, I made progress.

Then something happened that caught me completely by surprise.

BUDDY....

Our beautiful boy has grieved right alongside us since the day we lost Paige. He watched me put her in the car that morning. She never got the chance to give him one last cuddle.

And she never came home.

For weeks afterwards, Buddy wasn’t himself. He stopped going into Paige’s room, and I wondered if he was struggling to understand where she had gone.

But that Thursday, something changed.

He quietly walked into her room and settled onto his beanbag while I continued sorting through her things.

He simply watched me.

Then I pulled a basket from the cupboard. Inside were Paige’s old dance costumes and a few of her treasured teddy bears.

The moment Buddy saw the basket, he jumped up.

He sniffed every inch.
He rubbed his face against it.
Then, without hesitation, he climbed inside and curled himself amongst her things.

I just sat there.

Watching him.

The tears filled my eyes.

But something remarkable happened.

Normally, moments like that would send my heart racing. Anxiety would take over. My nervous system would slip into fight or flight.

This time… it didn’t.

My heartbeat slowed. I closed my eyes and breathed through the tears.

The sadness was still there.

The grief was still there.

But there was no panic.

Just love.
Peace.
Quiet sadness.

“The grief was still present, but for once, it wasn’t consuming me. I could feel the sadness and still feel safe.”

It was one of the most emotional moments I have experienced since losing Paige, yet somehow it was also one of the calmest.

Later that day, I phoned my mom.

She lives in Jeffreys Bay while I’m in Johannesburg, so we can’t simply pop over for a hug when one of us is struggling. Instead, we talk. We cry. We listen.

Sometimes we make each other cry even more.

But they are healing tears.

Knowing she is there to walk this journey with me — even from hundreds of kilometres away — is one of the greatest gifts I have.

Looking back now, I realise this is what healing really looks like.

Not forgetting.
Not moving on.

Simply finding moments where grief and peace can exist together.

“Healing is not the absence of grief."

Opening My Heart

By Thursday evening, I felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Our Trauma Yoga journey was continuing, and this week we were exploring the Heart Chakra.

Throughout this journey, we have been gently working our way through each chakra, creating space where life, grief, and stress may have left us feeling blocked.

I don’t want to dive too deeply into the meaning of every chakra — that is a conversation for another day — but I do want to reflect on how this journey has been unfolding for me.

When we began with the Root Chakra, I realised just how disconnected I had become from my own body. Grounding myself felt unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting.

As we moved into the Sacral Chakra, little sparks of creativity began returning. I wanted to paint again, write more, and reconnect with parts of myself that had been quiet for a long time.

The Solar Plexus Chakra awakened something different altogether. Despite the unexpected trip to hospital that followed, I woke the next morning feeling lighter, more energised, and somehow more like myself.

None of these changes have been dramatic or life-changing overnight.

They have been subtle.

Almost like tiny pieces of me slowly finding their way home again.

“Healing has not arrived as one big moment of transformation. It has come through small reminders that I am still here.”

Looking back over the past few weeks, I can honestly say I’m beginning to notice a shift.

My mind feels a little clearer.

My body feels more connected.

And for the first time in a very long time, I feel like I’m gently moving forward instead of simply surviving.

So, when Thursday evening arrived and it was time to explore the Heart Chakra, I knew this session would feel different.

If there was one place in my body carrying the weight of my grief, surely it had to be my heart.

This session focused on the Heart Chakra, or Anahata.

The Heart Chakra is associated with love, compassion, forgiveness, and acceptance — both for ourselves and for others. It encourages us to open our hearts, allowing ourselves to give and receive love while gently embracing change and healing.

Its element is air, reminding us to breathe deeply, release what weighs us down, and create space for new beginnings. Its colour is green, representing healing, balance, and unconditional love.

The affirmations we worked with were:

• “I welcome love with an open heart.”

• “Love is my guiding truth in life. I give and receive love effortlessly and unconditionally.”

I’ll admit it…

I arrived prepared.

Tissues in my bag.
My anxiety medication.
A bottle of water.

I was convinced this would be the session where everything came pouring out. I honestly thought I was going to fall apart.

Instead, something completely unexpected happened.

The practice focused on opening the chest, creating space around the heart, and allowing ourselves to simply breathe.

Some postures were intense, but almost immediately I became aware of something I hadn’t realised I had been carrying.

For months, there had been a heaviness across my chest.

A constant tightness.

Almost as though grief had quietly taken up permanent residence there.

As we moved through each posture, that heaviness slowly began to lift.

For the first time in what felt like forever…

I could breathe.

“Sometimes healing is not found in releasing everything at once. Sometimes it is found in finally giving ourselves permission to soften.”

It wasn’t dramatic.

There wasn’t a flood of tears or a sudden breakthrough.

It was quieter than that.

Gentler.

It felt as though my body had finally been given permission to rest.

The guided meditation and affirmations became another unexpected gift. Before the session, I was convinced meditation would be the moment I broke down.

Instead, it became the moment I felt safest.

The breathing grounded me. The affirmations encouraged me to sit with my heart rather than run from it.

I could feel the grief.

I could feel the love.

I could even feel the ache of missing Paige.

But for the first time, those feelings didn’t trigger panic. They didn’t send my nervous system into fight or flight.

They simply existed.

And somehow…

so did I.

“The grief was still there, but it no longer felt like something I had to escape from.”

I have realised something throughout this journey.

Healing isn’t about making grief disappear.

It is about creating enough space within ourselves to hold both the pain and the love at the same time.

I’m still grieving.

I always will.

But little by little, I’m learning that my heart is capable of carrying both.

“Healing is not the absence of grief. It is discovering that love, sadness, and peace can all exist in the same heart.”

And that, to me, feels like one of the greatest lessons this journey has given me so far.

A Letter I Was Meant to Read

On Monday, we attended the memorial service of a family friend.

As I sat listening to the eulogies, prayers, and stories that were shared, memories of Paige's memorial quietly resurfaced.

For a moment, I found myself back in that room, standing before family and friends, trying to find the words to honour my beautiful girl while my own heart was breaking.

Yet this time, something felt different.

Perhaps it was the quiet clarity I've been discovering throughout this Trauma Yoga journey, but instead of being completely overwhelmed by the memories, I reflected on them with a gentleness I hadn't experienced before.

I thought about everything I had wanted to say that day.

The words I forgot.

The moments that slipped past too quickly.

The impossible weight of trying to honour your child while carrying a grief so profound that it steals your breath.

Then my thoughts drifted to Lincoln.

As I listened to the grandchildren speaking so beautifully about their loved one, I found myself wondering, once again, whether I should have encouraged Lincoln to say something at Paige's memorial.

For a long time, I carried the quiet question of whether we had made the right decision.

But on Monday, I realised something.

Lincoln's grief has never looked like anyone else's.

He didn't just lose his sister.

He lost his biggest cheerleader.

His mentor.

His partner in crime.

The person who always had his back.

As deeply as he loved her, he simply wasn't ready to stand before hundreds of people and put that kind of pain into words.

And that was okay.

Grief doesn't ask us to perform our love for others to see. It asks us to carry it in whatever way our hearts are able.

“Grief does not follow a script. There is no perfect way to say goodbye, and there is no single way to carry loss.”

As parents, we often carry the weight of wondering whether we made the right choices, especially in the moments that changed our lives forever.

On Monday, I found a little more peace with the choice we made.

When we arrived home, I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down for a few quiet moments before lunch.

As I absent-mindedly scrolled through Facebook, a letter appeared in my newsfeed.

It was written to a grieving mother.

With every paragraph, tears quietly filled my eyes. The words resonated so deeply that it almost felt as though Paige herself was speaking to me.

Whether you believe moments like this are coincidence or something far greater, I believe with all my heart that I was meant to read those words just then.

For me, they felt like a gentle reminder from God that He is still walking beside me, even when the road feels impossibly heavy.

“Sometimes we receive the words we need, not when we are searching for them, but when our hearts are finally ready to hear them.”

I've shared the letter below because perhaps someone reading these words today needs them just as much as I did.

Sometimes healing arrives through movement.

Sometimes it arrives through a conversation.

And sometimes...

It arrives through a few simple words that find you exactly when your heart is ready to receive them.

A Letter That Found Me

Hey Mom, I saw you're missing me since I'm in Heaven now
I know you can't imagine when your heart will heal or how
The day I went to heaven is still tucked inside your heart
I know you wish me there with you though we're not far apart

You feel you should have saved me on the day I passed away
You wonder why on Earth I had to go while you must stay
If you could see me now, my soul is vibrant, pure, and bright
I walk with you each day and I watch over you at night

I know your heart feels empty, some days you just don't feel whole
Please know you gave me life, I'm intertwined within your soul
No one can take our memories, my life is our sweet fame
I love that you still speak of me and keep alive my name

And just in case you wonder, I'm still Sassy and I'm fun
Though you feel my life was over, it has only just begun
Don't forget how I sure love to see you smile every day
And on days that you can't smile, I'll wipe your tears away

So live your life and know that I'll be there to see you through
And when you get to Heaven, I'll be here to welcome you

— Written With Love, Fara Gibson Psychic Medium
© Original author credited in full

What This Journey Is Teaching Me

As I sit here writing tonight, I realise something.

This journey hasn’t taken my grief away.

It hasn’t magically healed my broken heart.

It hasn’t erased the memories or stopped me from missing Paige every single day.

What it has done is something much quieter.

It has taught me to breathe again.

It has taught me that my body carries the experiences I have lived through — but it also has an incredible capacity to heal when given time, space, and safety.

“Healing does not mean the pain disappears. It means we learn that we can hold the pain and still continue living.”

I’ve learnt that healing isn’t about forgetting.

It’s not about “moving on.”

It’s about learning how to carry love and grief together without one consuming the other.

For months, my nervous system lived in survival mode.

Every unexpected sound.
Every hospital.
Every memory.
Every anniversary.
Every “what if.”

My body responded as though it was still living the worst day of my life.

But over these past few weeks, something has slowly begun to change.

Not overnight.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Patiently.

I’m beginning to trust my body again.

I’m beginning to trust my breath.

I’m beginning to recognise when I need to pause, when I need to cry, and when I simply need to sit with my emotions instead of running from them.

This Trauma Yoga journey hasn’t healed me.

But I truly believe it has started my healing.

There is a difference.

I still have difficult days.

I still have moments where grief catches me completely off guard.

And I probably always will.

But I’m no longer afraid of every emotion that rises to the surface.

I’m learning that I can feel my grief without being consumed by it.

“The goal was never to stop missing Paige. The goal was to learn that I could miss her deeply and still find moments of peace.”

That, to me, feels like hope.

I also want to take a moment to thank Dale from BeingMe Yoga Studio — not simply for guiding us through Trauma Yoga, but for creating a space where I have felt safe enough to begin reconnecting with myself again.

His gentle guidance, patience, and compassion have been an incredible gift during one of the hardest seasons of my life.

Sometimes even those of us who teach movement need someone to guide us.

This experience has reminded me that it’s okay to be the student.

It’s okay to ask for help.

And it’s okay to begin again.

One breath.
One movement.
One week at a time.

Until next week…

Be gentle with yourself.

With love,
Gala

My mantra remains: “Movement creates momentum.” Even the smallest step forward is a victory.

“Karate for courage, Pilates for stability, Yoga for peace — together, they carry me, and perhaps they can carry you too.”