(đ To learn more about my story and how I now help others rise through their own turning points, visit phoenixjourney.com âa space built for souls seeking meaning after the fall.)
There are moments in life that split us in twoâbefore and after.
They arrive without warning. They leave no time for preparation.
And they donât ask for permission before changing everything.
Sometimes, itâs a missed call that alters the course of your day.
Sometimes, itâs a strangerâs kindness that rekindles something you thought was long gone.
And sometimes⌠itâs falling fifty feet onto cold concrete in the middle of the night.
Some accidents are minor.
Some leave scars.
And someâlike mineâbecome the catalyst for a completely new life.
đ§ The Night I Fell
It was raining that night, and everything felt heavy.
I donât remember muchâonly flashes.
The cold air biting my skin. The sound of water trickling down the rain drain.
The blur of streetlights and silence as I stood on that ledge.
And then… nothing but the sudden surrender of my body to gravity.
Fifty feet.
Thatâs how far I fell.
It couldâve been the end.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by machines that beeped in rhythm with my pain.
My ankles were shattered. My spine fractured.
But I was alive. And thatâs when the real story began.
đ The Kind of Pain You Canât See on X-rays
They told me I had survived a near-fatal fall.
But what they couldnât seeâwhat no scan could detectâwas the deeper pain.
The pain of years spent carrying unspoken grief.
The exhaustion of living a life that looked âfineâ on the outside but felt hollow inside.
The ache of being strong for everyone, and silently crumbling underneath.
I wasnât just physically broken.
I was spiritually splintered.
And in a strange, divine way⌠the fall didnât break me.
It revealed me.
đ When the World Stopped, I Started Listening
In the months that followed, I couldnât walk on my own.
I needed help to move, to eat, to batheâto exist.
But in that stillness, something profound happened:
I finally heard my soul speak.
No more running.
No more numbing.
No more pretending I was okay when I was unraveling inside.
I began to ask the questions I had long avoided:
What do I want from this life?
Who am I when Iâm not performing strength?
What does healing actually look like for someone like me?
đŤ Not All Accidents Are Tragedies
Weâre taught to see accidents as bad luck. As disruptions. As messes to clean up and move on from.
But what ifâŚ
What if some accidents are sacred detours?
What if theyâre the exact interruption our soul needed?
Mine was.
Because that fall gave me something I had long forgotten how to give myself: permission.
⨠Permission to rest.
⨠Permission to feel deeply.
⨠Permission to be vulnerable.
⨠Permission to rebuild my life from the inside out.
đż The Rebuilding
Rehabilitation wasnât just about my bones.
It was about my beliefs.
I started over.
From scratch.
Learning how to walk againânot just with my legs, but with intention.
I wrote. I cried. I prayed. I listened.
I began to show up in the world differentlyâmore open, more grounded, more me.
I stopped chasing perfection and started cherishing presence.
I let go of who I thought I had to be.
And I became the woman I was always meant to be:
A soft place for others to land.
A mirror for their unspoken truths.
A living, breathing reminder that survival can be sacred.
đ Introducing: The Broken Open Book Club
Out of that experienceâof breaking open and becomingâI created something for others who feel the same ache.
Itâs called the Broken Open Book Club.
Weâll begin with Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser, a book that met me when I was drowning and helped me float.
This book taught me that falling apart isnât failure.
Itâs an initiation.
This isnât your average book club.
This is a soul circle.
A space for real talk, for tears, for truth.
A space where being broken doesnât mean youâre weakâit means youâre alive.
And if youâre longing for that kind of space, you are welcome here.
Exactly as you are.
đ What My Accident Gave Me
My accident gave me clarity.
It gave me community.
It gave me purpose.
I no longer move through life trying to prove Iâm strong.
Instead, I move through life knowing that my softness is sacred.
That my story matters.
That my survival is not shamefulâitâs powerful.
So if youâre reading this, and youâve survived somethingâbig or smallâthis is for you.
Youâre not alone.
Youâre not behind.
And youâre not broken beyond repair.
Sometimes, what looks like a breakdown is actually the start of your breakthrough.
Letâs walk that journey together.
With love,
Nayerie
Phoenix Coaching | Founder of the Broken Open Book Club
đ phoenixjourney.com
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