You didn’t come here to heal.

You came to remember what they made you forget.

SAVAGE is where the mask slips.
Where the rage rises.
Where the silence breaks.

You’ve been keeping the peace.

Swallowing your truth.
Dimming your light in exchange for scraps of stability.

You call it being “chill.”
Being understanding.
Being easy to love.

But underneath?

• You’ve been keeping the peace to stay loved

• Swallowing your truth to avoid conflict

• Dimming your light to make others more comfortable

• Editing your voice to feel “safe”

• Calling silence maturity

• Calling exhaustion strength

• Calling the thing that keeps you disappearing… love

And now? Something in you is done.
Something in you knows.
Knows this was never love.
Knows you’ve been disappearing.
Knows it’s time.

You don’t need fixing.
You don’t need polishing.
You don’t need performance.

You need the truth.
And a return to who you were before the world told you to shrink.

This is the part before the breakthrough.

You will not be fixed here.
You won’t get a transformation plan.

But you will see clearly.
You will name what happened.
You will begin to hold yourself like you never have before—
Because you’ll finally see yourself like you never have before.

This is the unraveling.
This is the descent.

I used to believe I was the problem.

I tried to be better, softer, more agreeable—anything to make the relationship work.

On the surface, I pushed back—
Tried to prove him wrong. Tried to explain.
Tried to make him see what he was doing to us.

But underneath, I believed every word.
Every look. Every silence.

Every time he said “you’re crazy”
Every time he sighed and looked away.
Every time he made me feel like I was ruining everything just by asking for more.

I believed wanting more made me ungrateful.
That needing rest made me weak.
That asking for peace made me selfish.

I tried to heal myself into worthiness.
Gardening. Podcasts. Clean eating. Certifications. Hustle.
All to prove I deserved to exist.

I learned to audit myself in real time.
To soften my tone. To shrink the ask.

When a therapist named my relationship as abusive, I almost walked out.
Because by then, I was gaslighting myself better than he ever could.

This kind of damage doesn’t scream.

It doesn’t leave bruises.
It leaves you erasing yourself so slowly, you forget what wholeness even feels like.

You think you’re just tired.
Just sensitive.
Just not healed enough yet.

You didn’t wake up doubting yourself. You were taught to.

Taught to apologize before you spoke.
Taught to keep the peace while your insides roared.
Taught to see exhaustion as strength.
Your intuition as unstable.
Your boundaries as betrayal.

No one can see it...
But something in you is breaking.
And the worst part?
You can’t explain why.

You stop talking about the things that excite you.
You recoil when you speak too confidently.
You edit yourself mid-sentence.
You apologize out of habit.

You second-guess your tone.
Your memory.
Your presence.

And over time, that voice becomes your own.

This is more than one person.

It’s not just him.
It’s your family. His family. The well-meaning ones.
The ones who remind you how hard he works.
That “all relationships take sacrifice.”
That you’re just being dramatic. Too sensitive.

And maybe you’ve started to believe them.
Because when harm doesn’t leave marks, it’s hard to prove it happened.
Even harder when everyone else says, “You’re lucky.”

But the truth is:
You’ve been alone the whole time.

And he isn’t the beginning. He’s the echo.

This didn’t start with him.
You were fluent in self-abandonment long before he walked in.

You learned to earn love by disappearing.
To turn “no” into apology.
To hide your needs behind gratitude.
To wear resilience like armor.

Maybe it was a family where love came with conditions.
A childhood where you were “too much.”
A school that demanded compliance over curiosity
A job that rewarded burnout.
A church that made silence a virtue.
A culture that called obedience maturity.

So when love looked like disappearance?
You didn’t question it.
You adapted.

Because deep down, you already knew the script.

Now, you’re standing in a life that doesn’t feel like yours.

But something in you is stirring.
A quiet rage.
A flicker of memory.
A knowing you can’t un-feel.

You may not know who you are yet—
But you know this isn’t it.

And you know… it’s time.

SAVAGE isn’t your realization. It’s your confrontation.

Most programs want you to rise.
SAVAGE invites you to descend.

They want your breakthrough.
SAVAGE asks for your reckoning.

They want you polished. Palatable.
SAVAGE meets you raw.

They want your growth.
SAVAGE wants your truth.

This isn’t about becoming your “best self.”

It’s about meeting the version of you who was never allowed to exist.

This is not ascension. This is exhumation. This is grief. This is rage.
This is the scream you’ve been swallowing for years.

SAVAGE doesn’t want your performance.
It demands your clarity.
Not to exploit—but to finally name it.

WHAT’S INSIDE SAVAGE

Not coaching.
Not mindset work.
Not another “transformational” retreat.
This is descent. This is return.

What you’ll get:

• Longform lessons that say what no one else will
• Ritual writing prompts — not reflection, but excavation
• Somatic invitations — let the truth land in your body
• Audio anchors to walk, cry, rage, clean, or breathe to
• Self-paced access — sacred, private, yours

No timelines. No checklist.
No $2,000 price tag.
This is a self-paced initiation designed to return you to yourself — for $35.

THIS IS FOR HER:

Not for the ones still pretending.
Not for the ones chasing healing like a status symbol.
Not for the ones who bypass their pain with “positive vibes.”

This is for the woman still inside the storm.
The one who knows spiritual bypassing was never going to save her.

This is also for the woman who walked away.
Set the boundary.
Cut the cord.
And still can’t stop replaying it.
Still can’t stop question if it was that bad.

Still feels haunted by the version of herself who stayed too long.
Still feels like she’s walking around in someone else’s body.
Still hasn’t learned how to stop surviving.

This is for the woman who doesn’t need gentle.
She needs real.
She needs a place where her grief can scream.
Where her anger isn’t edited out.
Where her fear doesn’t make her unworthy of the work.

This is for the woman who is afraid to face her shadow—
and bold enough to do it anyway.

This is for the woman who’s done performing her healing.
Done trying to transcend her trauma.
Done waiting to be “ready.”

SAVAGE isn’t for the perfectly poised, the performatively positive, or the spiritually bypassing.
It’s for the woman willing to go into the dark without needing a guaranteed way out.
Not because she’s fearless.
But because she’s done pretending she’s fine.

You already know if this is for you.

There’s no launch window.
No eary-bird bonuses.
No countdown clock pressuring your pain into urgency.

There is only this moment.

Just you. Your body.
Your knowing.
And the moment you finally stop pretending you’re fine.
You’ve read too many books. You’ve waited for permission too many times.
You’ve made yourself palatable.
Understandable. Forgivable.

You’ve tried everything but this.

SAVAGE is not your next step.

It’s the pause.
The shift.
The return to yourself.

This isn’t the part where you fix it.
This is the part where you see it.

SAVAGE is self-paced. Private. Sacred.
Your reckoning begins for $35.