“Every Setback, Is a Setup, for a Greater Good”

Words I learned from a very wise man. A man who knows himself. A man who shares what has come to him.

He built a home on a hill of quartz crystal in the Caribbean. A home surrounded by fresh running water, coconuts, sage, vegetables and medicinal plants. A place where the breeze carries the scent of salt and earth, where the air is ionised by the ocean itself—alive, electric with renewal. His life, like his home, is one of evergreen nourishment. Not just in what he eats or breathes, but in the energy he cultivates, the peace he protects. Everything about his world feels intentional—rooted, harmonious, sustained by the very land it rests on.

“Every setback, is a setup, for a greater good.” - George

He created a sanctuary. A place that gives back as much as it receives. A life that is balanced in flow and purpose. He didn’t just survive his setbacks—he let them carve out space for something greater. For clarity. For truth. For a life of deep-rooted, intentional abundance.

HIS WORDS STAY WITH ME.

Understanding the Setbacks

I’ve heard versions of this sentiment before—every setback is a setup for something greater. But only now do I truly grasp what it means. It’s easy to look back and say, If I hadn’t lost that job, I wouldn’t have found a better one. If I hadn’t missed that train, I wouldn’t have met the person who changed my day. But what about the setbacks that don’t come wrapped in a silver lining? What about the pain that doesn’t immediately reveal its purpose?

For a long time, I couldn’t see the greater good in my past. I couldn’t reconcile the experience of domestic violence with anything remotely positive. I couldn’t make sense of the fear that lived in my body long after I had left it behind. But life unfolds its lessons in layers, and now, standing where I am, I can see what I couldn’t before.

What I Learned from My Setback

I learned that I am a survivor.
I developed tough skin.
I learned that when the world dared me, I had to dare it back.
I learned that my skin is MINE - don’t touch it.
I learned that I could fight back.

AND I DID.

That fight took me around the world. It fuelled my ambition. It gave me the courage to chase adventure, to step into the unknown, to build a life that looked nothing like where I came from. But then life shifted. I became a mother.

Before stepping into motherhood, I chose a man with a good heart and a kind nature. A man who made me feel safe and grounded. He is the father of my child, and he is the greatest setup for good. A good man. That was the first step towards something greater. I had proven that I could break the cycle, that I could choose love and safety. But choosing it was one thing—feeling it was another.

When Success Doesn't Feel Safe

The setbacks came. So did divorce. The fighting, the surviving, the tough skin… it stopped serving me. It was hindering me. I felt that with my tough skin, I could not feel tenderness.

I remember once being hugged by someone I was dating and feeling myself stop breathing. I held my breath. It was a clear sign that I didn’t feel safe. Then, at a time when I should have felt accomplished—running a successful talent agency—I woke up every morning with dread just opening my emails. I anticipated disaster even when things were thriving. That fear wasn’t rational; it was stored deep in my nervous system, a remnant of childhood experiences with domestic violence.

I had carried the belief that good things get destroyed and that relationships are physically dangerous. Even in moments of success, even in the presence of love, a part of me was still bracing for impact. All the fighting, all the protection—it was telling me something I hadn’t fully acknowledged: I didn’t feel safe. Not in my body. Not in stillness. Not in softness.

The Setup for Greater Good

And that realisation set me up for something greater—it set me on the path to finding safety within myself. I had to search for my own safe zones. My groundedness, my inner sanctuary. I had to unlearn the idea that being strong meant being hard. I had to learn how to listen to my body instead of overriding it. I had to feel my way through the process of rewiring my nervous system.

“I had to teach my nervous system that safety was real. That I didn’t have to flinch at love. That I didn’t have to armour myself against tenderness.”

Hypnotherapy was one of the tools that allowed me to go beneath the surface, past the logical mind, and into the subconscious where those beliefs lived. Through deep inner work, I transformed:

• “Relationships are physically dangerous” into “My body is safe, and I choose safe, loving connections.”

• “Good things get destroyed” into “I am allowed to have good things, and I trust in their lasting presence in my life.”

And this wasn’t just mental work—it was physical. I had to teach my nervous system that safety was real. That I didn’t have to flinch at love. That I didn’t have to armour myself against tenderness.

I had to allow myself to RECEIVE.

To BREATHE.

TO FEEL.

Trust, the Ocean, and Daring to Be Vulnerable

But healing wasn’t just about overcoming limiting beliefs—it was about embodying them. That’s where the ocean comes in.

Surfing has become one of my greatest teachers. When I paddle out, I am not in control. The waves come how they come. I have to read them, feel them, trust them. If I resist, I wipe out. If I hesitate, I miss the ride.

Surfing has taught me how to transmute caution into daring. How to let go of the need for control and embrace the flow. It has taught me that vulnerability is not weakness—it is an acknowledgment that I matter. That I feel. That I deserve to feel. That I deserve to care and be cared for.

Every time I ride a wave, I remind myself:
I AM SAFE in the unknown.
I AM SAFE in movement.
I AM SAFE in trust.

The Greater Good

The past didn’t break me. It set me up for something greater.

It set me up to build a life that is not just about surviving—but about thriving.

Not just about escaping pain—but about creating beauty.

Not just about fear—but about love.

And now, I help others do the same.

Because setbacks shape us, but they don’t define us.

Because healing is possible.

Because the greater good is always waiting.

YOU JUST HAVE TO BE WILLING TO FIND IT.