Wake Up
Your Inner Fire

I’ve been a quiet person my whole life. Not shy exactly — more careful. I learned young that saying the wrong thing could cost you something, so I became very good at staying small. Brigid had very little patience for that.

The breathwork opened something in my throat I’d kept clamped shut for years. In the stillness after each practice, I started saying things — out loud, to myself at first — that I’d been swallowing for a very long time. Somewhere in that opening, I found a voice I didn’t know I still had.

The inner fire Brigid brings isn’t about performing or producing. It’s about being honest. It’s about letting your energy move freely instead of holding it all in to stay acceptable. I felt lighter than I had in years — like something locked up had finally been allowed to breathe.

I came in sceptical and very intellectual — I wanted to understand chakras and chi as concepts before I’d let myself actually feel anything. Brigid had other plans. The breathwork did something I couldn’t think my way around.

By the second week I felt genuinely ungrounded — floaty, lightheaded, a little lost in all the spiritual ideas. I almost stopped. What saved me was the grounding practice and the microcosmic orbit — learning to circulate the energy instead of letting it pile up in my head. Womb breathing brought me right back down into my body.

The shadow work was hard but important. I realised I’d been using constant thinking as a way to avoid actually feeling things I’d carried for years. Brigid doesn’t let you skip that part. You have to breathe your way through it.

Once I stopped chasing the concepts and started genuinely moving the energy, everything settled. I can feel my chakras now — not as theory, but as real sensation. I’m calmer, clearer, and far more present than all that thinking ever made me.

There's something quietly ironic about knowing exactly how healing works, and still avoiding it in your own life. Brigid called me out on that very directly this month.

The shadow work in this chapter hit differently for me because I know the theory. I've guided other people through grief integration, inner child work, release practices. But doing it for myself — with Juanelle's voice in my ears and the sisters in the circle as witness — was completely different from knowing it academically.

I cried during the full moon ceremony. Properly. The kind of crying that reorganises something. I'd been carrying a version of myself I outgrew years ago, and I think this month I finally put her down with love instead of just abandoning her.

What surprised me most was how open I felt in the aftermath. It was like the clearing made space for the energy to move. My breath got deeper, my chest softened, and I felt my own life force again for the first time in years. That, it turns out, was the point.