🕒 25–30 min. read
📅 June 5, 2025
✍️ By Victoria Rose
What if the moment everything fell apart was actually the moment you began to come home to yourself?
This is the story of how I nearly died in my own bed, had an affair that shattered my identity, and walked away from the life I built to be reborn as the woman I was always meant to be. If you’ve ever felt lost, unloved, or like your soul is whispering “there’s more”—you’re in the right place. Grab your cacao, a soft blanket, and hold on tight. This is going to be quite an adventure.
Table of Contents
- Disappearing to Remember Who I Am
- The Depths of My Descent
- Behind the Smile: The Weight I Carried Alone
- The Lover Who Lit the Fire and Burned Me With It
- The Journey Inward
- Nature Was My First Healer
- The Sacred Mirror of Sisterhood
- Costa Rica Called Me Home to My Purpose
- The Savage Feminine Reclamation Begins
- Returning to the Body in the Heart of Bali
- Rising Into Authenticity
- My Values of LIGHT
- An Invitation to Continue the Journey
- The Journey Home: A Love Letter to the Becoming
This is the story of how I died… and came back to life. My journey of healing and self-love hasn’t been linear or easy—it’s been messy, raw, beautiful, and completely different from the life I once imagined for myself. I used to think I wanted the picture-perfect life: a thriving career in the federal sphere, a good Christian husband, and a sweet little family rooted in the values I was raised with. But looking back, I see now that wasn’t my dream—it was the dream I inherited. I had to let go of the version of life I was told would make me happy. I had to peel back the layers of “shoulds” and expectations to rediscover what truly sets my soul on fire: a deep love for myself and others, a vibrant soul, my health, connection, and a life rooted in authenticity and real, unconditional love. This is my rebirth. This is me, finally choosing me.
I share this story as a beacon of hope for those who find themselves in the depths of despair. I, too, have walked that lonely, seemingly unending road. Even in the darkest places, there is light. This light is hope. This is not the end for you, my dear; it is just the descent you need to shed the veil of societal expectations so that you can return home to yourself. Welcome to the great remembering.
Disappearing to Remember Who I Am
I disappeared for about a year and a half, stepping away from everything that felt familiar, from my career, from my community, and even from social media. I needed to go inward. I needed to remember who I was beneath the roles, the pressure, and the pain.
During that time, I explored, healed, unraveled inherited patterns, and studied to become both a Self-Empowerment & Spirituality Coach and a certified Yoga Instructor. I also started co-hosting retreats to help provide the level of healing that I have experienced for others looking to break free from societal conditioning and align with their true desires. I did the deep, uncomfortable, beautiful work of coming home to my body and beginning to heal the trauma buried within my nervous system. It was not easy. It was deep work that changed the way I view everything. And now I am ready to share. As I continue to heal (I’ve come to realize that the work is never truly over), this blog is a tool that helps me awaken my soul to my authentic expression. Also, I believe that we can help illuminate the world by sharing our truths. This is my soul’s mission. This is why I share – in hopes that someone who comes across this will see that death is not the end, but rather an opportunity to be reborn.
Now, I return—stronger, softer, and more embodied than I’ve ever been. I’m here to share my truth with those who feel called to listen. Because I believe that healing becomes possible when we allow ourselves to stand in the full, unfiltered expression of our soul. I lost touch with who I was, only to rediscover and embrace her again with reverence. And now, I’m eager to reconnect with relationships that have been lovingly paused. I’m ready to build new ones—with kindred souls who are also devoted to living in love, lighting up the world with truth, and helping to co-create a collective awakening.
This journey has been one of descent and rising, a sacred spiral that took me deep into the darkness before delivering me into a light I never dreamed possible. So, now, allow me to reintroduce myself.
I’m Victoria Rose—a Self-Empowerment & Spirituality Coach, Yoga Instructor, and Nervous System-Centered Holistic Witch. My path has been anything but easy. It has been raw, unpredictable, and deeply transformative. And if you’re walking your own path of becoming, please know this: You’re not alone.
This is the story of me waking up to my authenticity—and it’s a story I am both terrified and honored to be sharing with you. To all of the beautiful souls reading this through time and space, thank you for witnessing me as I awaken to authenticity.
The Depths of My Descent
If you know me, whether from the wild or through the scroll hole, you might describe me as funny, positive, radiant, friendly, and direct. In fact, those were the very words my lover (aka chef daddy, aka papi) just used when I leaned over in bed and asked him to describe me in a few. He wasn’t thrilled when I told him to keep it brief – words flow out of him like honey – but I adore how he still entertains my random, unprompted requests without hesitation. Honestly, he’s the kind of man I could text at 2 a.m. with, “Papi, would you help me start a cult?” and he’d reply, “Do we get to wear matching robes?”
However, not that long ago, the words best used to describe me were quite different: sad, lonely, lost, depressed, sick, addicted, and drowning in shame. I was merely a ghost of the woman you and I once knew. I looked alive, but inside, I was silently suffocating. During this time in my life, I felt profoundly trapped—in my marriage, in my job, and in a life that looked perfect on paper but left me feeling empty, disconnected, and unseen.
I was married to a man I loved, but love alone couldn’t fill the aching void inside me. Our connection had faded into routine and duty. I convinced myself that if I could just be better, skinnier, prettier, more grateful, a better Christian, more accommodating, then I would finally feel worthy of the love my heart desired.
I knew what I needed. I wasn’t lost or confused—I was clear and loving when making a request. But when I voiced a desire, especially if it differed from his, it was met with defensiveness or dismissed altogether. I wasn’t seen as worthy of my desires or dreams. Instead, I was labeled as ungrateful, dramatic, or critical. It made me feel like I had to shrink to keep the peace. So yes, I walked on eggshells—not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I knew exactly what would happen when I said it.
Looking back, our marriage fell into the exact patterns Dr. John Gottman warns about—the Four Horsemen: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. These aren’t just red flags; they’re the strongest predictors of divorce in marriages. And they were all present in our dynamic. My requests weren’t attacks, but they were received as such—because when we do not have the emotional capacity to validate our feelings, it is next to impossible to hold space for someone else’s. We think that loving someone is enough, but it is not. We have to love ourselves before we can truly love others.
One of my favorite teachers often reminds us that even scripture points us back to this truth. In Mark 12:31, Jesus says, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Most people interpret this as an instruction to put others first, but if you sit with it, the verse begins with you. You cannot love your neighbor as yourself if you do not first know, honor, and love yourself. Somewhere along the way, the order got twisted—and many of us were taught to pour out love without ever learning how to fill our own cup. Real love can only flow outward once it is rooted inward.
That disconnection didn’t just hurt me—it silently eroded the foundation of our relationship. Over time, I forgot my worth and lost my voice. I started to seek distraction from the pain I experienced at home. At work, I poured myself into achievement. I held a high-pressure position as an IT Project Manager in federal and state government. I was respected, successful, and climbing the ladder. But the truth?
Success meant performing—showing up every day with a smile while I crumbled inside. My body had become a foreign place—a shell I ignored unless it was crying out for relief. And when it did, I sought relief in ways that numbed me, not healed me. I was achieving on the outside and unraveling on the inside. Something no one noticed from the outside looking in.
One evening, I found myself in the kitchen, cooking dinner alone again. My husband was either working late, napping, or simply uninterested in my presence. That was our typical dynamic. I had spent years waiting for his love, his attention, his touch—but it never came freely. I felt like a sad, lonely puppy, wagging my tail every time he walked through the door, only to be ignored.
I would not consider myself hard to please. Feed me, water me, show me affection, and I’ll be loyal, devoted, and overflowing with love. But in my marriage, I was starving. Starving for appreciation, for connection, to be seen, heard, and touched. I was even jealous of our dogs—because they received more love and attention than I did.
When I vulnerably expressed the kind of intimacy I craved, I was dismissed. I told him that being eaten out made me feel deeply loved and desired—it was my favorite form of foreplay, and it mattered to me. But he flat-out refused, not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t think he should have to do something he didn’t personally value. His desires were prioritized. Mine were optional. The love in my marriage was conditional—and transactional.
Could you imagine eight years without receiving pleasure in the way you crave it most? I never imagined this would be my married life. I never imagined I would feel so unwanted, so undesirable, so deeply unseen.
Looking back, I can now see how our marriage slipped into the patterns Dr. John Gottman describes as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—the strongest predictors of relationship breakdown: criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. These patterns aren’t always intentional. Criticism can creep in when we feel unheard. Contempt can fester when resentment builds unspoken. Defensiveness often shows up when we feel attacked, even if our partner is simply sharing their truth. And stonewalling usually happens when we’re overwhelmed and don’t have the tools to stay present. Most of us fall into these patterns not because we want to hurt our partner, but because we don’t know better.
I thought the problem was me—that if I just tried harder, was more patient, more accommodating, then things would get better. What I didn’t realize then is that the Four Horsemen don’t resolve conflict; they slowly erode connection until love itself feels out of reach.
But now, I do see. I see me. I see how brave I was for asking. How worthy I always was of tenderness, passion, and presence. And if you’re reading this and any of it hits home—please hear this: You are not too much. You are not too needy. You are not broken.
You are worthy of every ounce of love and pleasure your body can hold—freely given, enthusiastically shared, and never something you have to beg for. Anything less is not love. It is performance. Don’t believe it. You deserve more. You deserve it all.
Behind the Smile: The Weight I Carried Alone
Even outside of the bedroom, the imbalance was unmistakable. I was expected to cook, clean, and manage the house mostly alone. When I finally asked for help, his answer wasn’t compassion or support—it was to suggest I cook less so there would be fewer dishes. Or he’d argue that “we can clean our own home” and that we shouldn’t be too good for that. I remember distinctly thinking, But you’ve never cleaned this home. I clean your home. His one regular chore was to take out the trash every Friday, and even then, I usually ended up doing it because he forgot. The hypocrisy wore me down, and resentment began to grow.
When I suggested couples counseling—clinging to any hope of salvaging what we had—I was met with apathy. This was after our first big fight as a married couple. I had just returned from a business trip in Hawaii and learned, to my heartbreak, that my husband preferred porn over my body. As a young bride, I was still adjusting to the reality that he didn’t seem as passionate about making love as I was. We had differing sex drives—something I hadn’t realized before marriage, since we had waited until our wedding night to have sex for the first time.
Hoping space would help, I left to visit friends in D.C., praying he’d also reflect and want to work on us. But when I returned, nothing had changed. Desperate, I asked in tears if we could go to therapy together. I told him I would do anything to repair the distance between us and begged him to tell me what I could do. His response: “Never ask me to go to therapy again.”
Eventually, he gave in, but only under conditions—he would choose the counselor, it had to be a Christian therapist, and I wasn’t allowed to mention our sex life. It was clear: he wasn’t willing to try. He wasn’t willing to fight for us.
And still, I stayed. I stayed because I believed marriage meant sacrifice, that love meant patience, that if I held on a little longer, he would finally see me. But that night—standing in the kitchen alone—something inside me cracked. I didn’t want to die, but I also couldn’t keep living like that.
I had been numb for so long, desperate to feel anything. So I leaned on my prescriptions, and when that wasn’t enough, I smoked weed the way I once used it for relief. But this time it only numbed me further, left me foggy and forgetful. Still, I reached for more. If I couldn’t remember whether I had already taken my third pill of the day, I just took another. Then I added alcohol into the mix—layer upon layer, chasing a spark of joy that never came. Instead, I drifted further from myself, completely disconnected from my body.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode. And then, just as suddenly, I feared it might stop altogether. I cooked dinner, but never touched it. I crawled into bed, curled into myself, and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. No one knew how deeply I was suffering—not even the man who slept beside me every night.
What I was living through was a textbook example of smiling depression. That’s when someone appears happy and high-functioning on the outside while battling deep emotional pain within. I wore the mask so well that even I sometimes believed it. It’s how I made sense of what was happening to me. I knew I was supposed to be a joyful, positive person – this is my default state. But I wasn’t anymore. And nothing made sense.
That night, something rare happened. He held me. He let me cry. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t ask any questions. I fell asleep in his arms—and in those moments, I was just grateful for the love and energy that he shared with me. Grateful that some part of him could still show up in that way, even if only for a night.
But even then, I knew…I didn’t die that night, but something inside me did. The woman who believed in waiting. The woman who believed that love meant shrinking. The woman who accepted breadcrumbs and called it a meal…She didn’t make it out.
I didn’t fully understand it then, but the unraveling had already begun. My slow exit from the marriage was in motion. And what he left me with wasn’t just a broken heart—it was a gaping wound that whispered the same lie over and over again: You are too much. What I couldn’t see then was that this death was also the beginning—the painful unraveling that would eventually deliver me back to myself.
The Lover Who Lit the Fire and Burned Me With It
To my dismay, I didn’t leave my marriage with integrity. Instead, I sought comfort elsewhere. What began as another coping mechanism quickly became an entanglement—one that started as an escape, but turned into its own kind of cage. I had an affair.
I never meant to fall in love, but I did. We bonded over our shared passion for spirituality, for health, for growth. He made me feel seen in ways I had been starving for. I felt wanted, admired, and energized. But beneath that intoxicating surface, truths were missing—truths he chose not to share.
He presented himself as someone rooted in self-discipline and sobriety. As someone who has struggled with addiction, I was leaning into living a healthy lifestyle, and we bonded over the ability to have fun without the use of alcohol or drugs. What he chose not to tell me was that his sobriety came from a long battle with alcoholism. A battle that shaped how he moved, how he related, how he loved. Unspoken, it became a shadow that cast itself over everything.
After I separated from my husband, I clung to this new relationship, hoping this was the real connection I had longed for. But he wasn’t meant to be my safe place—he was meant to be my activator. At first, it felt like fire. Our connection was raw, magnetic, and almost feral. He awakened something wild in me—something I hadn’t felt in years. For a time, I believed he truly saw me. Unfortunately, the love was not real or lasting. He didn’t love me… he loved what my light did for his ego.
But it wasn’t real seeing. It was a dynamic built on power. On control. On manipulation. What I mistook for freedom became another prison. And when the relationship ended, it didn’t end in peace. It ended in chaos. He betrayed me. He harassed me. He attacked every part of me (my intellect, self-image, and even my bodily autonomy). He used the very systems I once felt safe in to hurt me—until my workplace became hostile ground, and I had no choice but to resign for my mental health. The place I once felt competent and confident became a war zone.
Every email. Every meeting. Every whisper behind closed doors…I was hunted. Not held. I had no voice or energy left. My nervous system was screaming—begging me to make myself safe. There were weeks I could barely eat. Days when I couldn’t get out of bed. I was frozen, flooded, exhausted—locked in a trauma response that left my body trembling, empty, and afraid..
But the worst part? Even in the midst of that vulnerability… he didn’t stop. He used shame and embarrassment as weapons—trying to pry open my body through humiliation instead of care. He called me names, made backhanded comments, and criticized my natural responses. If I froze or pulled away, he twisted the story to make it my fault. He couldn’t honor the sacred “no” my body was screaming. He wanted to conquer it. He didn’t want my consent. He wanted my surrender. I was humiliated. But more than that—I was broken. He left me with a new lie playing on repeat in my mind: You are not enough.
And yet…In the stillness that followed, something shifted. The heartbreak cracked me open. And in the wreckage, I finally saw myself. I realized I had spent years performing. Pleasing. Surviving. But I had never truly lived. The betrayal was brutal, but it broke the illusion. It forced me to ask a question I had avoided for far too long: Who am I when there’s no one left to impress? I didn’t have the answer yet. But for the first time in my life—I was ready to find it. So, I walked away. From the career. From the chaos. From the version of me that settled for survival. I chose me.
I want to be clear—I’m not sharing this to demonize anyone. I believe in forgiveness. And I’ve given that gift to myself. I also believe in relationship transformation. If my ex-husband had believed in it too, maybe we would still be together. I don’t think he’s a bad man—I never have. I will always have love for him. I just believe he’s a lost man. And I’ll always pray that he comes home to his body, that he remembers his own worth and divinity, and that he learns to truly love himself again. As for my former lover, my catalyst. I know we were both meant to come together to activate each other in different ways. I kiss you to the light and release you. I share this because it’s healing for me to name the things that once stole my voice. And I share it in hopes that someone reading might recognize themselves, might make a different choice, or might begin to feel less alone in their own unraveling.
Our stories matter.
Our truth is sacred.
And healing begins when we’re brave enough to tell it.
The Journey Inward
In the wake of everything I lost, I made a choice—to stop searching for answers outside of myself and begin the journey home. That decision led me on an extraordinary, year-and-a-half-long pilgrimage across continents, climates, and cultures—from the southernmost reaches of Patagonia, where cold winds carve through jagged peaks, to the warm, turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean in Indonesia. I wandered through vast deserts, dense jungles, volcanic lands, and sacred temples—each place becoming a mirror for my own transformation.
At every turn, I was shedding old identities and releasing attachments to the woman I thought I had to be. Instead of asking, “What should I do?” I began asking, “What does my soul need right now?” That single shift became the portal. The soul doesn’t speak in logic—it speaks in longing. And I was finally ready to listen.
I relearned how to be in my body. I discovered the language of my nervous system. And I reclaimed the sacredness of my sensuality—not as something shameful or performative, but as something deeply personal, deeply powerful, and deeply mine. This journey wasn’t about escaping my past. It was about meeting myself in the present—fully, honestly, and without judgment.
Every passport stamp became a prayer. Every mountain summit a metaphor. Every sunrise a reminder that I was still here—still healing, still growing, still becoming. And though I didn’t know where it would lead, one thing was clear: This wasn’t a death. It was a resurrection.
Nature Was My First Healer
My healing didn’t begin in a therapist’s office or on a yoga mat. It began under open skies, on winding trails, and in the presence of wild, and in the depths of untamed landscapes. Nature became my first mirror. My first medicine. My first sacred teacher.
I traveled to Patagonia, Argentina, where I hiked Laguna de los Tres with one of my best friends, Varya Malina. Varya and I met on Bumble for friends and have been co-creating in life ever since. I have told her before, and I still believe this: while we both moved to Tennessee for love, I think the universe’s true intent was for us to find each other. She has taught me so much about what it looks like to show up in friendship, and for that, I will forever be grateful. She is an inspiration and always encourages me to reach new heights in life. That 14-mile round-trip trek was my first overnight backpacking experience—a rite of passage that tested my endurance, my will, and my spirit.
We stood beneath the towering peaks of Mount Fitz Roy, the icy winds whipping through our layers, and something in me cracked open. For the first time in what felt like years, I was in awe—not just of the landscape but of myself for making the journey.
From Patagonia’s glaciers, we journeyed into the scorched, sun-split deserts of Death Valley, California—a place so stark, so silent, it felt like the earth had been stripped bare just for me. I hiked Golden Canyon, Badwater Basin, the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, Zabriskie Point, Artist Palette, Emerald Cove, and the Arizona Hot Springs—each location a portal into a deeper stillness.
Even in those breathtaking settings, the heaviness of my depression followed me like a shadow. There were still mornings I woke up hollow. Still nights where grief clung to my chest like fog. And yet… with every step, something inside me shifted.
“Walking became a kind of meditation—each mile a release, each landscape a reflection.”
Nature held me the way I had longed to be held. Without judgment. Without expectation. Just presence. I cried beneath red rock canyons. I screamed into the wind on mountain peaks. I lay beneath desert stars, wondering if the universe saw me—and feeling, for the first time in a long time, that maybe it did.
That’s when I knew:
Healing doesn’t always look like stillness.
Sometimes, it looks like putting one foot in front of the other—even when you’re not sure where the trail leads.
The Sacred Mirror of Sisterhood
Then came The Canyons Women’s Adventure Retreat—a journey that deepened my understanding of surrender, rising, and reclamation through the sacred portal of nature. The Sacred Mirror of Sisterhood. As a co-host, I had the honor of guiding an incredible group of women alongside my soul sister Varya Malina. Together, we curated powerful experiences designed to stretch our edges, expand our hearts, and remind us of who we truly are beneath the masks.
We began at Shoshone Point on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, standing at the precipice of one of the world’s most awe-inspiring wonders. The vastness mirrored our own capacity for depth and transformation. Each layered rock formation whispered ancient truths: You’ve been here before. You’ve broken, rebuilt, and risen again.
From there, we journeyed to Radiator Springs, where the land’s playfulness matched our own. Then came the otherworldly beauty of Lower Antelope Canyon, where sunlight danced through stone like spirit weaving through the body. It was here we felt time dissolve and presence amplify.
We surrendered fully at Lake Powell, letting the rhythm of the water hold us in celebration. We rented a boat and spent hours in communion—singing, dancing, soaking in the joy of being alive and together. No performance. Just presence.
“This was more than a retreat—it was a remembering. A rising. A return to the truth of who we are when we’re free.”
At Horseshoe Bend, the winding river carved its own sacred path—a reflection of our own winding journeys. The final initiation came at Buckskin Gulch, where we hiked nine miles through majestic slot canyons, our footsteps echoing through narrow passageways that felt like a womb—holding, molding, transforming.
Every mile moved something within us. Every sister’s voice and tears and laughter cracked something open.
“Being surrounded by women—witnessed, held, and deeply seen—was medicine I didn’t even know I needed.”
This retreat reminded me: healing doesn’t always happen in solitude. Sometimes, the greatest breakthroughs come in the presence of sisters who mirror your strength back to you, who honor your shadows, and who walk beside you when the path feels too heavy to walk alone.
It was here I knew without a doubt:
✨ These retreats aren’t vacations.
They’re initiations.
They’re ceremonies.
They’re homecomings.
Costa Rica Called Me Home to My Purpose
After the canyons cracked me open, Costa Rica called me home—not just to its lush jungles and sacred waterfalls, but to myself. Together again with my travel soul-sister, Varya, we hosted another Women’s Adventure Retreat—one that would forever shape my life’s direction.
This wasn’t just a trip. It was an initiation.
We began in San José, visiting La Paz Waterfall Gardens, a haven of cascading falls, sacred stillness, and vibrant life. From the moment I stepped onto that earth, I felt something ancient within me stir—you are not lost, you are becoming.
Then came La Fortuna, the heartbeat of the journey and my favorite destination in all of Costa Rica. We wandered the Mistico Hanging Bridges, suspended above the canopy as mist kissed our skin and the rainforest buzzed with life. The energy was electric—alive, untamed, and deeply feminine.
We hiked the Arenal Volcano, feeling her ancient pulse under our feet, and then surrendered to the natural hot springs, letting the mineral-rich waters hold us like a womb. The next morning, we descended 500 stairs to the powerful La Fortuna Waterfall, where we stood in awe, drenched in her force and beauty.
And then—we played. At El Salto Rope Swing, we laughed with locals, let loose, and remembered the medicine of joy. There was no performance, no pressure—just presence, movement, and freedom.
“Play is sacred too. It brings you back into your body and reminds you what aliveness really feels like.”
One of the most unexpectedly meaningful moments came during a coffee tour with South Fields Café. There, we learned the slow, intentional art of cultivating and brewing one of the world’s finest coffees. It was an embodied metaphor for healing—the richest things in life require time, patience, and presence.
From there, we wound down the coast toward Quepos, pausing to witness the Tarcoles River Crocodiles—some of the largest in the world, over 16 feet long. Their primal energy reminded me of my own wildness—the part of me that is ancient, fierce, and free.
We ended at Manuel Antonio National Park, walking among sloths, monkeys, and exotic birds, before letting our bare feet sink into the soft, white sand. The trip culminated with a sunset yacht celebration to honor my beloved friend Varya’s life—an evening full of tears, laughter, music, and love.
“Being held by the Earth while being held by women cracked me open in the most unexpected ways.”
In that moment—on the water, surrounded by sisters, bathed in the glow of the setting sun—I knew with my whole being:
🌿 This is what I’m meant to do.
Create sacred spaces.
Guide healing.
Curate magic.
Celebrate life.
And if your soul is whispering yes to that kind of experience, I’d love to invite you to the next one.
✨ Join the Women’s Adventure Retreat Waitlist here and be the first to know when we open the next portal.
Let’s rise, remember, and reclaim—together
The Savage Feminine Reclamation Begins
And woven through all of this, I made a pivotal decision to take my healing into my own hands in a deeper, more intentional way. That decision led me to the Vital Integrated Tantric Approach (VITA™) Coaching Program, a 600-hour, trauma-informed certification created by Layla Martin. Through this sacred, year-long training, I reclaimed myself through meditation, breathwork, sounding, sensual embodiment, nervous system regulation, and pleasure-based practices.
It was here that I began to understand that my body wasn’t broken. She was wise. She was trying to speak. And I had finally begun to listen.
Then, I returned to Costa Rica for a second time—this time, not as a guide, but as a student and initiate. It was during the VITA retreat that I first tasted the raw, primal power of sex magic and womb wisdom.
“One of the most powerful moments of my life was standing in a room of 100 women, each of us unapologetically claiming our right to feel pleasure, heal deeply, and be fully seen.”
I cried. I laughed.
And then I laughed again—
Because I realized… this is exactly the kind of thing women were once burned for.
But the fire didn’t destroy us. It awakened us.
This retreat wasn’t just transformative—it was a sacred remembering. I met women from around the world walking the same path of healing and reclamation. But one soul stood out like a lighthouse in the storm. Her name was Marian Bacol.
From the very first moment, it was as if we had known each other for lifetimes.
There was an unspoken knowing—a spiritual sisterhood that transcended language.
Marian is a powerhouse healer, intuitive guide, and sacred space holder. Together, we realized that our gifts were meant to be shared together.
We are now co-creating the Savage Feminine Reclamation Retreats—intentionally curated, heart-led experiences for women ready to remember their magic, reclaim their bodies, and rise into the fullness of their truth.
🔥 Our next retreat takes place in Tulum, Mexico from September 22–27, 2024.
It’s not a vacation. It’s a homecoming.
“This work—this journey—it gave me my life back. And now, I offer it forward.”
If you are a woman who’s been people-pleasing, playing small, pushing through, or pouring into everyone but yourself…
If you’ve forgotten how powerful you truly are…
If you’re ready to return to your body, your pleasure, and your truth…
Then this is your invitation.
✨ Learn more about the Tulum Retreat here.
Come as you are.
Leave as the woman you were always meant to be.
Returning to the Body in the Heart of Bali
After the powerful reclamation work in Costa Rica, I knew the next phase of my journey would take me to the heart of Bali—a sacred land I had always felt a deep pull toward. So, I booked a one-way ticket, not knowing exactly what was waiting for me there but trusting that Bali had exactly the medicine I needed.
I spent six transformative weeks immersed in the culture, healing, and spiritual practices of Bali. It was during this time that I completed my 200-hour yoga instructor certification at House of Om, a space that welcomed me in with open arms and a deep connection to the earth, the air, and my own body.
Momma Bali taught me to listen to my body in a new way. To feel her whispers, to honor her needs, to surrender to her rhythms. In Bali, I got reacquainted with my own sensuality and started to reconnect with the body I had been ignoring for so long. I danced barefoot under the stars, swam in sacred rivers, and sat in silence at ancient temples. I slowed down long enough to actually feel, and I started to realize: This is who I am meant to be.
“Bali held me through every step of my healing. It’s a place that invites you to unravel, to soften, and to bloom.”
But the deepest shift came when I realized that I had been living my life from a place of numbness. I had been running away from my truth, from my emotions, from the gifts I was here to share. Bali gave me the space to finally land in my body, to feel the full spectrum of my humanity, and to reclaim the truth that had always been inside me.
Through yoga, breathwork, somatic movement, and deep reflection, I learned to transmute my trauma into growth. I reconnected to my nervous system and realized that in order to fully heal, I had to embrace both the light and the darkness within me.
In Bali, I also had the privilege of receiving powerful aura readings and past life regressions that illuminated my soul’s purpose as a lightworker and energy healer. The sacred temples, waterfalls, and jungles that surrounded me became the backdrop for a deep, spiritual awakening.
As I healed and let go of old layers of shame and guilt, I learned what it really means to treat my body as sacred—to honor it, nourish it, and be at peace with it. Bali was not just a destination; it was a place of deep medicine—spiritual, emotional, and physical healing.
“Bali is more than a place. It’s a feeling. It’s the moment when everything shifts, and you step into the fullness of who you really are.”
While there, I made the decision to let go of what no longer served me. I stopped drinking, let go of my reliance on Adderall, and stopped smoking weed. I titrated off the SSRI medication that had been prescribed to me years earlier. It had once helped me, but it was time for me to choose a different path—one rooted in holistic healing and a deep connection to my nervous system.
I learned how to fuel my body with intention, to eat clean, and to live in harmony with my natural rhythms. The energetic detox I went through during my time in Bali was nothing short of transformative.
But it wasn’t just about me. I met sacred women—soul sisters who were also walking their own journeys of healing. There was an undeniable bond we shared, a mirror of our own strength, wisdom, and vulnerability. Bali helped me understand that healing doesn’t always happen alone. Sometimes, it happens in community—in sisterhood—where we support each other, see each other, and hold space for each other’s transformation.
“In Bali, I didn’t just reconnect with my body. I reconnected with my soul.”
If Bali speaks to your soul the way it spoke to mine. If you’re longing for deep healing, sacred sisterhood, and a return to your true self—Then, I invite you to join the waitlist for the Embodied Awakening Retreat in Bali 2026.
It will be an unforgettable journey to reconnect with your body, your sensuality, and your truth.
Rising Into Authenticity
Now, I’m here in Knoxville, planting roots, building a community, and aligning myself with people who share my core values. This phase of my journey is about co-creating spaces where authenticity, compassion, vulnerability, and growth are not only embraced but celebrated. I’m reconnecting with old friends, nurturing new connections, and opening myself up to romantic and platonic relationships that align with my deepest values—values that I like to call L.I.G.H.T.
🌟 My Values of LIGHT
L – Love
I lead with love—grounded in compassion, forgiveness, and an open heart. Love is the foundation of healing and connection. It’s about showing up fully, even when it’s difficult, and extending grace to myself and others.
I – Integrity
Integrity is living and leading from a place of honesty, wholeness, and authenticity. It means honoring my word, my energy, and my soul’s purpose—even when no one else is watching.
G – Growth
I believe that growth is sacred. It’s about embracing evolution, expansion, and the profound lessons that come with transformation. True growth requires us to accept where we are, while holding a clear vision of where we’re going. It’s a blend of surrender and intention.
H – Harmony
I value harmony, both within myself and with the world around me. This includes nurturing nervous system balance, honoring the rhythms of nature, and creating safe spaces for authentic connection. Harmony thrives in community, where we rise together, and each person feels seen, heard, and held.
T – Transformation
Transformation is the path to truth. Through embodiment, awareness, and intentional action, I turn pain into power and fear into freedom. Transformation calls for respect—for all perspectives, all identities, and the divine unfolding of each person’s journey.
✨ Let’s Connect IRL or Online
If something in this speaks to you—if you’re craving real friendship, a deep sense of community, or a spark of co-creation—I’d love to hear from you.
These days, I’m building connections through Friday family dinners at my place, hiking nearby trails, dancing my heart out (salsa, bachata, zouk, cumbia, or rueda), local Kirtan, traveling, practicing yoga and acro, or simply going for a walk and sharing life stories under the sun.
If you’re local to Knoxville or passing through, and feel called to share space, collaborate, or just vibe with me.
👉 Visit the Be Friends With Me page to see my calendar, upcoming events, and how we can flow together.
Let’s build something beautiful—grounded in presence, passion, and possibility.
🎙️ An Invitation to Continue the Journey
I created the Make Life Yummy Podcast as a sacred extension of my journey—a space where raw truth meets practical tools, where healing goes beyond just a concept, and where vulnerability is not only welcomed, but celebrated. This podcast is for the seekers, the shapeshifters, the empaths, the ones who feel deeply, love wildly, and are ready to return home to their truest selves.
Each episode weaves together my personal stories of descent and rising, lessons learned along the way, insights from my work as a Self-Empowerment Coach, and intimate conversations with guests who are also walking the path of awakened authenticity. We’ll dive into topics like sensuality, spirituality, nervous system healing, grief, pleasure, boundaries, trauma, love, and everything in between. Nothing is off-limits—because true wholeness requires us to meet all of ourselves.
This podcast is also where I’ll be sharing the details of what I’ve lived through—the messy, raw moments and the lessons that continue to shape my healing journey.
💫 The first episode drops in June 2025—and trust me, it’s just the beginning of something beautiful.
If you’ve felt seen in my story, if your body exhaled as you read these words, or if your soul is whispering “yes” to more truth, more tenderness, more connection—then this podcast is for you.
🎧 **Join the email list or follow me on YouTube** to be notified of the podcast launch and receive updates as I continue to share the healing process.
🌟 Would you like to be a guest on the podcast? If you feel your story or expertise aligns with our mission of healing, transformation, and authenticity, I’d love to hear from you! Apply here to be considered as a guest on an upcoming episode.
Because life is meant to be lived deliciously—fully felt, deeply loved, and unapologetically yours.
Because you deserve to make life yummy, too.
The Journey Home: A Love Letter to the Becoming
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. Thank you for witnessing my story—the raw, unfiltered truth of what it means to fall apart and rise again.
This journey has taught me so much, but if I had to distill it down, here are the truths that continue to anchor me:
💫 You are not broken. Your pain is not a weakness—it’s a portal.
💫 Healing isn’t linear. It’s messy, magickal, sacred, and full of surprises.
💫 Your body is your compass. When you learn to listen, it will lead you back to yourself.
💫 You don’t have to do it alone. Sisterhood, nature, ritual, and deep presence are medicine.
💫 Love begins within. When you love and honor yourself, everything changes.
💫 You get to create a life that turns you on, lights you up, and feels like truth.
I’ve learned to alchemize shame into strength, heartbreak into clarity, and trauma into power. And I want you to know—you can too.
If you’re walking your own descent… if you’re in the thick of the unraveling, or just starting to hear the whisper that there’s more for you—then I invite you to take the next step with me.
🌀 My 1:1 coaching containers are for the women and men who are ready to come home to their bodies, reconnect with their truth, and awaken their authentic power. We’ll use trauma-informed tools, pleasure-based practices, and nervous system healing to help you reclaim what’s always been yours.
👉 Click here to explore my coaching offers and join a container that fits where you are now.
You don’t have to wait for some perfect moment—this is your moment. Say yes to yourself.
And now I’d love to hear from you…What part of this story touched your heart most deeply? Or—what part of your own healing journey are you in right now? Drop a comment below. I read every single one, and I’d love to connect with you.
Here’s to rising, to remembering, and to making life yummy.
With deep love and devotion,
Victoria Rose
