The Rising Phoenix

23/03/2026

🌿 Root & Rise – 1:1 Healing Session

If you keep noticing the same relationship patterns repeating… this session is for you.

Root & Rise is a 60-minute guided space to gently explore the emotional patterns shaping your current experiences.

Together, we uncover childhood-rooted dynamics, bring awareness to what’s beneath the surface, and begin grounding new understanding.

Using intuitive tarot as a reflective tool — alongside grounded energy work — I hold a safe, structured space for clarity and integration.

This isn’t about predicting your future.
It’s about understanding your patterns so you can consciously shift them.

You’ll leave feeling lighter, clearer, and more grounded.

Message me to book.

10/03/2026

Being Held
Lilliana Mallinson-Boyes

For a long time
I was like an abused puppy
sitting in a cage.

Hurt.
Abandoned.
Left to learn the world alone.

The cage door opened
and a gentle hand
reached toward me.

Offering care.
Offering affection.
But I didn’t trust it.

Teeth bared.
Low growls in my chest.
Snarling at the kindness
being offered.

Because the hands I had known before
had not been so gentle.

So I stayed in the cage
watching.
Suspicious.
Guarded.
Ready to bite
if the wrong move was made.

But the hand didn’t disappear.
It didn’t force its way in.
It simply remained
steady
patient
kind.

Time passed.
Patience stayed.
Care stayed.

I ran.

Startled by the softness
I didn’t yet know how to trust.
Retreating
back into the shadows
of the cage
I had learned
to call safety.

But after sitting with my fears, healing
and seeing clearly
what had actually been offered

I returned.

He heard me.
He saw me in my mess
He Didn’t demanding answers.
He didn’t asking why I left.

He Just listened
Seeing me.
he remained
steady,
patient,
kind.
He accepted me as I am.

I realised
this hand
was different.

The growling softened.
The teeth disappeared.
Without even noticing
I stepped forward.
Resting my head
on his shoulder,
finally allowing myself to feel safe.

Instead of shadow
He brought light.
He brought laughter.

Shadow puppets dancing across the walls
in the glow of soft light.

Stories
shared in the quiet hours of night.

Moments so simple
they felt sacred.

That night
I tossed and turned in my sleep.
But every time I woke
His arms were still around me.
Holding me.

I stayed.
He took care of me.
Making me lunch.
Rubbing my back
Filling my hot water bottle

Our eyes meeting,
lingering a little longer each time,
as if our hearts were whispering
words we hadn’t spoken.

Beneath that quiet gaze
something warmer
began to grow.
Feelings
deepening
in ways I could no longer ignore.

Somewhere in the middle of it all
I realised something.
I wasn’t frightened.
I softened.
I surrendered.
I let myself
be cared for.

I had stayed in the cage
for far too long.
But now
I was out of it.

And for the first time
in a very long time
I allowed myself
to be held.

09/03/2026

Shamanic Healing – 1:1 Deep Session

For when awareness isn’t enough and you’re ready to move energy at the root.

These sessions are designed to support deeper emotional release, energetic recalibration, and grounded transformation.

Using traditional shamanic techniques alongside intuitive guidance, I hold a contained and steady space for you to safely process, clear, and integrate what’s been stored beneath the surface.

This is not surface-level insight.
It’s intentional, embodied work.

Shamanic healing can support:
• Stored emotional blocks
• Trauma held in the body
• Repeating energetic patterns
• Feeling disconnected or ungrounded

You’ll leave feeling clearer, more balanced, and reconnected to your inner strength.

£88 – 1:1 session
Message to book.

08/03/2026

Breaking Open
Lilliana Mallinson-Boyes

For a long time
my body carried beliefs
that were never truly mine.

Beliefs planted
in seasons of pain
I had to survive.

Beliefs my nervous system learned
in order to protect me.

You are too much.
You are not enough.
You are unlovable.
You are unworthy.

And somewhere along the way
my wild woman was chastised.

Her instincts questioned.
Her voice softened.
Her truth reshaped
until she learned
to explain herself
and apologise
for simply being.

They weren’t truth.
They were survival.

The quiet stories a wounded body tells itself
after living through things
it should never have had to endure.

So I carried them.
For years.

Until I stepped into a sacred goddess temple
surrounded by women
who held something different.

Presence.
Witness.
Sisterhood.

We breathed together.

Deep.
Slow.
Opening spaces in the body
I hadn’t touched in years.
I lay there open,
my vulnerability bared naked.

My body moving
in waves like a wild ocean
as the energy imprint
left my body.

But the moment that changed everything
didn’t come during the storm.
It came when the silence fell
as meditation settled over us,
the steady ground beneath me
holding my body.

And something inside me
began to move.
Nothing hidden.
Nothing protected.

Then the sobbing came.
My body shaking
as tears poured down my face
raw vulnerability
rolling,
shaking,
releasing.

Sounds escaped my throat,
unfamiliar sounds
my body had been holding for years —
not loud,
not quiet,
just the sound
of something finally
being let go.

Something ancient
leaving my body.
Grief
I didn’t know
was still living inside me.

And then I felt it.
A hand
resting gently
on my shoulder.
She didn’t speak.
But inside my mind
unspoken words appeared:

I’m here.
You’re safe.
Let go.

Silent permission.

And something inside me
that had been starving for years
broke open.

Not from the breath.
Not from the pain.
From the kindness.

In that moment
I realised something
I had never truly understood before.

I had been starving
for human connection.
So starved
that one small act of care
broke me wide open.

And all I wanted
in that moment
was to bury myself in her arms
and thank her
again and again
like a starved animal
finally being fed.

Because in that moment
my body remembered something
it had forgotten.
What it feels like
to not carry everything alone.

And as the grief moved through me
those old beliefs
began to loosen their grip.
Leaving my body
in waves of trembling release.

And when the storm settled
I realised something quietly powerful.
The woman standing there
had survived those things.
But they no longer
owned her.

And somewhere beneath the quiet
I felt her again —
the wild woman
who had never truly left,
only waited patiently
for the moment
she was finally free
to rise.

06/03/2026

Falling While Healing
Lilliana Mallinson-Boyes

They say love arrives like lightning,
sudden and bright,
a spark that ignites the heart without warning.

But no one tells you what it feels like
when love arrives
in the middle of healing.

When your heart is still learning
how to beat without flinching.

When every soft moment
is followed by a whisper from the past:

Careful.
Don’t get too close.
Remember what happened last time.

Because when you’ve been broken,
love doesn’t just open the heart.

It opens every wound
that was never allowed to close.

The voice that says
You’re not good enough.

The fear that someone will wake up one morning
and decide
you are too much
or not enough
or simply not worth the effort.

The quiet ache of abandonment
that sits beneath the ribs
waiting for the moment
someone might leave again.

So you learn to protect yourself.

You analyse.
You pull away.
You convince yourself it’s safer
to walk away first.

Because if you leave before they do,
at least the ending is yours.

But healing does something strange.

It softens the armour
you spent years building.

And suddenly someone appears
who doesn’t run
when you show them the cracks.

Someone who sees the fear
and stays anyway.

And that’s when the real work begins.

Because falling in love while healing
is not soft poetry and butterflies.

It’s standing in the doorway of your heart
with shaking hands
and choosing
to leave it open.

It’s letting someone see
the parts of you
that still believe they are unlovable.

It’s realising
that the greatest risk
is not loving someone.

It’s believing
you were never worthy of love at all.

So tonight I sit with this feeling,
this quiet, terrifying tenderness.

This moment where fear says
Run.

And my healing says
Stay.

Because maybe love
was never meant to arrive
when we are perfectly whole.

Maybe it arrives
while we are still learning
how to be.

And maybe the bravest thing
a wounded heart can do

is not protecting itself.

But opening again
anyway.

05/03/2026

The Quiet Weight of Burnout
Lilliana Mallinson-Boyes

Burnout doesn’t arrive all at once.

It creeps.

Not like a storm,
but like weight slowly settling
on your shoulders.

For weeks I’ve been holding everything.

Trying to keep life afloat.
Trying to keep stability for my child.
Trying to rebuild a life that once felt broken.

Trying to navigate healing
while still showing up for the world.

Learning how to reclaim myself
after years of giving too much of me away.

And even learning how to open my heart again
while I’m still piecing parts of myself back together.

From the outside it might look like strength.

And maybe it is.

But pressure has a way
of quietly collecting.

Every responsibility.
Every worry.
Every moment you say
“I’ll handle it.”

Until one day
your body finally speaks.

Not loudly.

Just heaviness in the chest.
A heart full of emotion.
A tiredness that runs deeper than sleep.

And suddenly the smallest things
feel like climbing mountains.

This is what people don’t understand about burnout.

It doesn’t mean you’ve stopped trying.

It means you’ve been trying
for too long
without putting the weight down.

And when you’re carrying it alone,
burnout can take over quietly.

Because some days
what you really need
is someone to say:

“You don’t have to do this by yourself today.”

Some days you wish someone would simply come
and take care of you for a while.

Not to fix everything.
Just to hold the weight
until you can breathe again.

Today I am not broken.

Today I am burnt out.

From carrying so much hope,
so much responsibility,
and so much healing
all at once.

And still, even in the exhaustion,
I keep going —
because little eyes are watching me
build a life from the ashes.

So today I move slower.

Today I allow the exhaustion
instead of fighting it.

Because burnout isn’t failure.

Sometimes it’s simply the body’s way of saying:

You’ve carried enough for now.

Put the weight down.
Breathe.
Rest.

The life you’re building
will still be there
when your strength returns.

If today feels heavy for you too,
you’re not the only one carrying it.

28/02/2026

Becoming Soft Without Breaking
-Lilliana Mallinson-Boyes.

There was a time I mistook survival for strength.

I learned early how to shrink.
How to read rooms.
How to earn love.
How to stay quiet so I wouldn’t be left.

I internalised things no child should ever have to normalise.

Abandonment.
Control.
Abuse.
Being r***d.
Being suppressed.
Being neglected.

And I made it make sense the only way I knew how —
by convincing myself it was normal.

Because if it was normal,
it didn’t have to be devastating.

So I normalised being controlled.
I normalised being used.
I normalised being silenced.
I normalised self-abandonment.

And without realising it, I built an identity around surviving.

Somewhere deep inside, a belief formed:

Love hurts.
Love requires sacrifice.
Love means tolerating the intolerable.
I must earn love.
I am not inherently worthy of it.

That belief shaped my relationships.

I confused intensity for intimacy.
Control for protection.
Attachment for safety.

And yet — the one thing I have wanted all my life
is to love and be loved.

The last few weeks have held a mirror to that truth.

Not in chaos.
Not in drama.
But in quiet moments where grief surfaced and I didn’t push it away.

I realised something powerful:

What I endured was not okay.
It should never have been normalised.
And it is not my burden to carry as shame.

Abuse is not love.
Control is not devotion.
Silence is not safety.

I am unlearning the narrative that I must disappear to be chosen.
Unlearning the belief that my heart must be guarded at all costs.
Unlearning the story that I am unlovable.

I am learning that I can want love
without tolerating harm.

That I can set boundaries
without losing connection.

That I can open my heart
without abandoning myself.

Healing has not looked like a grand transformation.

It has looked like breathing.
Like choosing differently.
Like staying present when I want to run.
Like believing — slowly — that I deserve something gentle.

For the first time, I am allowing myself to believe
that love can be safe.

Not perfect.
Not fantasy.
Just safe.

And maybe that is what becoming looks like —

Telling the truth about what broke you.
Refusing to call it normal.
And still choosing to soften.

18/02/2026

Over the past few months my work has evolved into something more grounded and intentional.

On Monday I’ll be introducing Root & Rise — a 1:1 healing session focused on childhood-rooted relationship patterns and grounded empowerment.

If you’ve been quietly doing the work of healing and breaking cycles, this space is for you.

09/11/2025