When Everything Falls Apart (and It’s Actually an Initiation)

The Day Everything Collapsed

When I first got the news, the kind that makes your stomach drop, the kind that pulls the rug from under your neatly ordered life… I wanted to dig my head in the sand.

And I sort of did.

With pillows.

I hid in them. Screamed into them. Threw them. Punched them. Sobbed into them until my throat burned and my body shook.

Those poor pillows have seen things most pillows don’t see.

At that point, I thought I’d lost everything.

My carefully built calendars and to-do lists. My social media accounts. My home. My routines. The tiny systems that made me feel like I was in control of my world.

And when all of it collapsed… my backup plans, my backups-for-my-backups, even the “responsible” layers of planning I thought were keeping me safe, I realised I wasn’t just losing things.

I was being initiated.

The Illusion of Control

Looking back now, I can see it so clearly.

It wasn’t life punishing me. It was life pruning me.

What was dying wasn’t my foundation, it was my illusion of control.

For years, I’d been mastering the art of over-preparedness. There was always a Plan A, a Plan B, and a Plan Z. There were backup hard drives, backup passwords, backup plans for my backup plans.

And somewhere between those layers of “safety,” I’d lost touch with spontaneity, with flow, with that soft hum of trust that whispers, “You don’t actually have to manage everything.”

So life did what life does when you don’t let go voluntarily.

It took my hand, and it pried my fingers open.

The Chaos Before the Calm

At first, it felt like chaos.

Like freefall.

There’s this strange kind of vertigo that comes when all the structures you built… the ones that made you feel safe… vanish overnight.

But here’s the thing: I let it be chaos.

I didn’t try to tidy it up with positive thinking.
I didn’t bypass the devastation with “trust the universe” memes.

I let it be big. I let it break me open.

I screamed. I sobbed. I punched pillows until they deflated.

And then, almost too soon, something started to soften.

In the quiet that followed the storm, I began to feel space.

And inside that space, there was clarity.

The Wisdom in the Empty Space

Without my usual noise… the lists, the schedules, the endless notifications… I could finally feel what was true for me.

When I stopped trying to manage life, I started to hear life.

The guidance wasn’t loud. It didn’t come as a booming voice or a perfect plan.

It came as a quiet sense of direction. A pull.

One that led me straight to Bali.

The Rebirth in Bali

A few weeks after everything fell apart, I found myself barefoot and sun-warmed, walking through stoney paths and lush rainforest with new friends, learning some more from mentors, receiving body work from teachers, and remembering that I am still whole.

Without the scaffolding of my old life, I could finally feel what the next right move actually was for me.

I realised how often I’d been mistaking control for stability.

How often I’d confused busy for purposeful.

And how much energy I’d been spending trying to predict the unpredictable.

Life doesn’t want to be micromanaged.

It wants to move.

And when I finally let it, everything started flowing again… not in the old way, but in a way that felt more like breath than structure.

The Divine Plan Hidden in the Mess

When we’re tangled in the tiny details, we forget that Divine Nature already has a much bigger plan in motion.

It doesn’t need our colour-coded calendars or our ten-step safety nets.

It just needs space to flow IF we let it.

I used to think surrender meant laziness.
Now I see it’s an act of faith.

A trust fall into the mystery.

And honestly, I think I needed a full-blown divine intervention to make it happen.

Because if a mentor had told me, “Delete everything, lose the house, go off-grid, and trust,” I probably would’ve fainted on the spot.

But life has a way of orchestrating the perfect lessons when you’re too stubborn to choose them consciously.

The Aftermath: What Remains When Control is Gone

Now, here I am, rent-free for the foreseeable future, free to travel, to test the waters of new cities, to explore bringing my work to places I’ve always dreamt of.

The nervousness is still there, sure. But it’s lighter now.

There’s excitement.

There’s possibility.

And, perhaps most importantly, there’s space for magic.

Because when you stop clinging to how it’s supposed to go, you start to notice how beautifully it’s already unfolding.

The Truth About Letting Go

Letting go sounds poetic when written in calligraphy on an inspirational quote.

But in reality? It’s messy. It’s inconvenient. It often looks like your life falling apart.

But that’s the paradox: when you allow it to collapse, something new can be born.

And that something, the life that rises from the ashes, is always truer, simpler, freer.

Here’s to Trusting the Unplanned

I’m still new to this kind of surrender.

And maybe next time, I’ll have the courage to let go voluntarily, not just when life insists.

But for now, I’m grateful.

Grateful for the chaos, the laughter, the tears, and the strange, delicious freedom that comes when everything you thought you needed disappears.

Because on the other side of losing control, I found peace.

Here’s to trusting the unplanned.

💛🔥💛

Much love,

K xx