I was painting last night while listening to a recording. In it, a woman shared that a coach once asked her a simple question: What was it like to be your father’s daughter?

When I asked myself that same question, I started crying immediately.

I’ve done a lot of work around that relationship, including forgiveness and understanding, so it wasn’t about unresolved emotion in the way people might assume. What came through was something else entirely.

I suddenly understood that my father wasn’t the origin of the patterns I’ve carried in this life. He was just an activator—an activator for themes that were already present long before this lifetime: shame, guilt, unworthiness, and struggle.

That realization shifted everything.

Over the years, through meditation, I’ve seen several past lives. When I understood my father as an activator rather than a cause, I was able to look at those lives differently. Not as isolated stories, but as a single thread repeating itself.

I could see how I chose experiences and circumstances that continued the same themes across lifetimes. Not as punishment. Not as fate. As a way of working something out karmically that began even earlier.

The earliest point I’ve seen so far is a life in Atlantis.

This may be where I lose some people, because you can only see what you’re ready to see. But this is what was shown to me.

I was part of the fall of Atlantis.

Not as a leader or authority figure, but as someone in what we might understand as their teenage years. I was studying something similar to botany, although that word doesn’t fully capture it. I was trying to save people from themselves. From corruption, arrogance, and greed.

I was shown a scene where I stood in a grove of trees, watching chaos unfold. People were running and shouting. Then another scene appeared. The land itself flipped and fell into the ocean.

I didn’t survive that collapse.

The lifetimes that followed carried the imprint of that event. The belief that I had failed, that my value was insufficient, that struggle was the cost of being involved at all. Each life repeated variations of those same themes, offering new ways to understand my role, my responsibility, and my sense of worth.

What I’ve been working through across those lives is not guilt, but integration.

Understanding how I participated, what I believed because of it, and how those beliefs shaped my sense of self long after the original context was gone.

I call this process splintering. It’s the way consciousness fractures around unresolved meaning. As I’ve been evolving those splinters, something has finally shifted that I’ve been trying to move consciously for at least the last twenty-five years.

It makes sense to me now why I chose this era to be here.

We are living through the unraveling of systems that mirror that earlier collapse. The difference this time is that I don’t believe the outcome has to be the same. I’m not here to save anyone, but to stay embodied, aware, and responsible in the midst of change.

There were other lifetimes before Atlantis, and I’m still exploring them. But fitting these pieces together shifted something fundamental in how I understand myself and my place here.

I woke up smiling.

Why This Kind of Understanding Matters

When people encounter experiences like this, they often try to interpret them psychologically, symbolically, or metaphorically. Sometimes that’s appropriate. Other times, perception is doing something else entirely.

This wasn’t about memory for memory’s sake. It was about context.

When you understand that someone or something in your current life is an activator rather than a source, blame dissolves. So does endless self-correction. You stop trying to fix the surface and instead begin to see the deeper pattern that has been running beneath it all along.

This is how real change happens. Not through force, but through clarity.

Many people who experience intuitive expansion, past-life recall, or sudden insight become overwhelmed because they don’t know how to hold what they’re seeing. Without interpretation and integration, perception fragments instead of clarifying.

My work exists at this exact intersection.

I don’t help people open perception.
I help them understand what’s already opening and learn how to live with it clearly and responsibly.

If you’re experiencing moments of sudden knowing, emotional release without an obvious cause, or insights that feel larger than this lifetime alone, you’re not imagining it. And you don’t need to rush to define it or make it mean something right away.

Sometimes the next step isn’t more insight. It’s structure.

If you’re ready to work with perception in a grounded, responsible way, my Psychic Medium Intensive is a longer container designed to support interpretation, integration, and embodiment over time.