The Ember That Never Went Out

On depression, depletion, and the long road back to creative flow.

For a while there, I couldn’t tell if I was tired, lazy, or just turning into a slightly dishevelled houseplant version of myself that needed to be watered emotionally, physically, and spiritually. (Spoiler alert: it was depression. But also... yes to all of the above.)

Here’s the thing about living with a low-level fog of depression for a long time: you start to forget what clear skies feel like. You adapt. You get weirdly good at pushing through mud. You normalize the lack of clarity, the inability to complete simple tasks, and the eerie sensation that something vital inside you has quietly shut down for maintenance... and forgotten to send an ETA.

But what made it even more confusing was this: I still had a burning ember inside me. A very clear, unwavering sense of devotion to my soul’s work—this work of healing, transformation, creative expression, and spiritual leadership. I knew I was here for something. I just couldn’t do anything about it.

Cue inner turmoil.

Imagine having this sacred, cosmic to-do list from the Universe that you're genuinely excited to tackle... but you can’t get off the couch or remember how to send your bookkeeper the correct documents. The contrast between that deep spiritual call and my real-life capacity at the time felt unbearable. I wasn’t just frustrated—I felt broken. Like I was failing my purpose. Like I had lost access to the divine dispatch line.

For someone who used to be high-functioning, creative, and full of ideas, this shift hit hard. I began to feel like I couldn’t trust myself. Couldn’t follow through. Couldn’t channel anything useful or even string together a decent email, never mind something profound or beautiful. My confidence? Shattered.

But of course, healing never looks like the 3-step plan they discuss on self-help podcasts. It’s not a linear upward graph; it’s more like a wiggly line with intense highs and lows where you occasionally get motion sickness.

The turning point wasn’t one single epiphany. It was more like realizing the fog had lifted just enough to notice the weight I’d been carrying all along. And once I had enough clarity to name the depression for what it was, I began to understand just how deeply it had shaped my daily reality. How it had crept into everything. And also—how long it had been there.

The recovery? Ongoing. Imperfect. Multifaceted.

I’ve done thought work and belief rewiring. I’ve received somatic therapy and explored trauma in the body. I’ve taken care of my physical health in new ways, including actual medical interventions and not ignoring my symptoms. I’ve sat with plant medicine. I’ve restructured my relationship to effort, healing, and being human.

But perhaps the most life-altering part of this process has been reclaiming my energetic sovereignty.

Let me explain.

Back when I was working as a manual therapist, people would come to me in pain. Physical pain, emotional pain, existential pain—they brought it all. And I, being the open-hearted sponge that I was, would unconsciously try to help by absorbing it. Without knowing it, I had become a highly porous energetic lint roller for other people’s unprocessed junk.

It was only once I started learning clairvoyant and energy clearing skills that I began to see what was happening. Layer by layer, I peeled back the buildup in my field—the inherited beliefs, the projected pain, the leftover residue from other people’s trauma. And under all of that? Was me. Clear, soft, capable me. Turns out, that “low mood” I was so accustomed to wasn’t entirely mine. Some of it was the gunk of a thousand unspoken stories stuck to my energy body like glitter from a craft project. It was everywhere.

And no, this isn’t about blaming others. It’s about understanding energetic hygiene. Sensitive, empathic, intuitive folks like me—especially those who work in service-based or healing professions—must learn how to differentiate between what’s ours and what’s not. Otherwise, we’ll spend our lives trying to fix what was never ours to carry.

As I cleared my field, reclaimed my space, and learned how to protect and restore my own energy, something magical happened: I felt more like myself than I had in years (ever?). My capacity returned—slowly at first, like a shy cat—but it came. My creative flow began to trickle back in. I started to follow through again, trust myself again, hear spirit clearly again. And oh my god, what a relief.

Of course, I’m still healing. We all are. The journey of transformation is not a path with a finish line—it’s a relationship. A long-term, deeply intimate, often frustrating-but-beautiful relationship with your own becoming.

And I’m not trying to wrap this up with a neat bow and pretend I’ve got it all figured out. I just want you to know: if you’re in that fog, if you feel like your spirit’s on mute and your creative channel is jammed, you’re not broken. You might just be carrying what’s not yours. Or moving through something that requires time, slowness, softness, and support.

But if there’s still an ember inside you—that spark of knowing, that flicker of devotion to your soul’s work—trust it. It’s your compass. Even when everything else goes quiet.

That ember doesn’t need you to blaze. It just needs you to keep breathing.

And eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll remember how to build the fire again.

xo
D.

If this resonated...

And you’re finding yourself in that in-between space—where the ember is still glowing, but you’re not sure how to fan it into flame—know this: you don’t have to do it alone.

For the right person, in the right season, I have space open in my 1:1 coaching roster. This is transformational guidance for the sensitive, the creative, the intuitive ones who are ready to reclaim their clarity, vitality, and purpose. We work at the level of mind, body, and spirit—tending to the practical and the mystical, together.

If you feel a quiet yes in your bones, book a free no-strings Clarity Call here. We’ll explore where you’re at, where you’re being called, and whether we’re a good fit to walk this path together.