My Unraveling.

In this story, I’m going to share with you the most vulnerable parts of me. This is a blog post I shared last year, and I’ve updated it, as this story has mostly remained the same, but the journey did not end, as all journeys never do.

Before last year, I had not ever shared like this before, not even with many close friends and family, because of fear of judgment. I didn’t want to appear weak or flawed in the eyes of others.

Not to mention, building a coaching business based on helping others claim their authenticity and purpose, while going through a series of traumatic life experiences, seemed somewhat contradictory to me.

I didn’t want to be seen as hypocritical or weak; or worse, fake.

That is no longer my truth. In fact, the opposite is true. I see everything differently now. It was just that my courage had to catch up.

We are not in control of everything life brings our way. We are only in control of how we choose to deal with our circumstances.

This journey called Life is full of immense beauty and also full of heart-wrenching sadness. If we don’t dive into the depths of our pain and walk through the darkness, we will never reach the light, and true happiness will forever elude us.

And I believe that sharing our own stories and hearing the stories of others is what gives us hope, and the courage to show up as our own beautiful, authentic selves.

Here is where my immense heartbreak began:

Three years ago, my only child, my beautiful son, Trey, came home after serving a five-year prison sentence for a crime he did not commit.

He entered the prison system at 18 years old. During his time there, he received very few visitors. Shame makes people forget about loved ones who are behind bars. Most of his family believed that he was guilty, because, if he was found guilty in a court of law, he must have committed the crime.

Wrong.

We were given two choices by a court-appointed attorney, who offered us a 50/50 chance that Trey would spend 25 years in prison if we allowed a jury to decide his fate, or plead guilty to a crime he did not commit, and spend five years in prison instead.

We made an impossible decision.

It was surreal. Standing in front of a broken justice system, he pleaded guilty.

The U.S. justice system was designed to oppress. Originally, it was African American citizens who collectively suffered from this “law and order” system. Southern Strategy was designed to trap African-Americans in poverty and in prisons. And now, the pendulum has swung. The now privatized prison system is designed to fill as many beds as possible, and any human body will do. Anyone experiencing financial hardship is at risk.

This is how oppression unfolds. It eventually touches everyone, because we are not separate from each other.

I could go on, explaining this concept for days and how I woke up to the reality of what many of us choose not to see because it is too uncomfortable. But, for now, I will get back to the topic of my own unraveling.

My culturally white-identified son grew up in a beautiful planned community; he was a good student, and he volunteered tirelessly for the nonprofit organization that I began in order to fund a skatepark. He would spend hours on the phone with friends who just needed someone to talk to; he was a sensitive child who cared for everyone deeply.

When the economy tanked in 2008, I lost everything. We spent nearly three years in a financial struggle, which was all it took to end up in our impossible situation.

During the years he spent in prison, the only thing I could do was keep hope alive for him, and he did the same for me. Hope fueled me to pull myself out of poverty and into a six-figure income.

Trey also did everything he could to make the best of his circumstances. He became the sole internal litigator for the prison at 18 years old, representing inmates who received charges inside. He never lost a case.

He led efforts to revitalize baseball and volleyball fields and bring in sports equipment. He formed a volunteer group that worked to improve the grounds; creating a sense of teamwork and camaraderie, which gave inmates the opportunity to work together to improve their circumstances and take pride in their results. He taught people how to read. He changed prison policy. His compassion grew by leaps and bounds.

Despite all this, the emotional violence he endured was heavier than anyone could comprehend.

After five years of holding onto hope and our dreams for the future, he finally came home. That nightmare was over, but nothing could prepare me for what was next.

We had Trey at home with us for only six precious weeks before he died of a drug overdose.

My heart broke into a thousand pieces.

Several weeks after Trey passed, I decided that I could not allow myself to fall into a bottomless pit of sorrow, mostly because I was terrified that I would never climb out.

So, I went back to work. I walked through the office doors, and immediately, I felt a wave of nausea. I quickly decided to leave the corporate world and the toxicity that came with it.

I also decided to stop waiting around for happiness to find me and began a desperate search for my new normal.

I began manufacturing happiness. 

I got married. The decision was rushed. I met my husband only a month before my son died. He was in the Navy. We learned that he would soon be transferred clear across the country. So, we went for it. We had a private ceremony and planned a wedding for our friends and family, scheduled for months down the road.

The result of the marriage was that he was able to leave the Navy with an honorable discharge after only three years of service, because of all we were going through. The outcome was a relief.

Two months later, my father passed away. I stuffed my grief so that I could handle his end-of-life care.

Everyone reminded me how lucky I was to have found such an amazing man who loved me so much. I have never seen big love in action, they would say, in various ways.

Six months later, we had our very expensive wedding. I drained my savings to pay for it. We decided to have a child. I became pregnant immediately.

Two months later, I miscarried – on the same day of my son’s death, one year later. The emotional pain was more than I could bear.

We tried again when it was safe to do so, and succeeded.

A few months later, my husband left me; pregnant, with no income, no car. I miscarried again.

I became engulfed in confusion and depression. I tried desperately to climb out of the fog, and was getting there, when …

Two months later, he came back, begging to come home. He said he was sorry that he had made such a mistake and would never leave me again. I decided I had to give my marriage another chance.

Two months later, we experienced another death in the family. This time, it was my first husband, the father of my son. This man was another beautiful, sensitive soul taken by opiates.

Two months later, my husband left me again, this time in worse financial shape than before. I was on the verge of losing everything I had worked so hard for — everything I had built, back when I only had hope to fuel me. It took years of working, saving and climbing the corporate ladder to achieve what I had, and it took only months to nearly lose it all. My husband’s coming and going continued.

At this point, there was no denying that the man I married and loved dearly was trapped inside of a dark inner battle. More confusion ensued.

While living through what felt like a nightmare that would not end, I somehow found the courage to become vulnerable over and over again, continuing to open my heart to love in the midst of intense grief. My already broken heart busted wide open again and again, into thousands of more pieces.

I felt like my soul had been sucked out of my body and I was dying a slow death. I had danced with the devil. He danced me into oblivion.

There I was, utterly alone. My son, my father, and my first husband (the only person who would ever love my child as much as I do) were gone. My second marriage was over as soon as it began. With no real income, the future was bleak. There was no more hope to fuel me.

Like Job, there was absolutely nothing left for me to lose.

This is when my healing journey began. 

In my quest for understanding, I crossed paths with teachers, coaches, healers and mediums who taught me about Oneness — through unitive teachings on Oneness, inner child healing, meditation, yoga, and the magic of the Divine Feminine.

I experienced profound healing and learned how to shine my light brightly. I worked with Shamans and discovered that time is not linear — there is more to our existence than meets the eye, and our happiness cannot be taken away by any person or circumstance.

I settled into the knowingness that we are connected to everything, and I was able to heal wounds I wasn’t even aware I had.

Debilitating grief transformed into love and gratitude. Sorrow transformed into purpose, and confusion into clarity.

I found peace. It was always there, inside of me, waiting for me to acknowledge it.

There is no turning back. My walls crumbled; never to be built again. The masks I wore disintegrated into ashes. And my heart now holds even more love and light than I ever dreamed possible.

My healing journey was essential to realizing my purpose.

I now coach others to step into their authenticity and take responsibility for their own happiness.

I also work alongside other women who spread the awareness of Oneness by creating safe spaces to resolve conflicts. We are healing wounds without using our broken systems.

Addiction, the school-to-prison pipeline, poverty, divorce and narcissism are all symptoms of a larger problem: broken systems that create broken people.

Recognizing our connection to All That Is, becomes impossible when we are following the rules of our current social systems. We have to do something different. And considering our current collective consciousness, which can only be described as the insanity of humanity, I see no other choice.

We have the power to choose differently. 

When we operate out of fear and separation, no one benefits; not our children, spouses, parents, siblings nor the community at large. And since we are all connected, everyone suffers. Fear also keeps us playing small and denies us our natural right as human beings to step into our power and experience joy.

When we recognize our shared humanity, conflicts resolve easily, wounds are healed and wholeness is realized.

All year, I’ve been working on a project to help shift the collective consciousness to support the realization of our connection.

Because changing the world is an inside job. 

The project is a virtual event, Anchoring the Consciousness of Oneness World Summit, happening Nov. 11-17.

Together, with the support of many healers, coaches and teachers, we’ve compiled 19 hours of content from 19 amazing experts in the fields of science, health and wellness, education, business, law, philosophy, spirituality and holistic modalities — to spread the awareness of how we can anchor the consciousness of Oneness.

This powerful information can help shift perspectives and create change, one person at a time.

Oneness is the Truth of All That Is. It is a state of being that cannot be expressed in words. The best explanation I have is: Oneness is where Peace and Joy live.

To uncover these gifts, we must peel the layers of perceived separateness. This is how we step into our authenticity — and this is how our purpose finds us.

I hope you will take this journey with me.

Love and light,

Sara

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