Sometimes life doesn't crack you open to break you—It cracks you open to set you free.

Hi, I'm Christie Dawn.

I've always been the black sheep—the one who couldn't pretend. The one who felt too much. The one who always craved something deeper than the surface.

I was married. I bought the house. I played the part.

I got divorced. I integrated. I fell in love—a few times.

I did the personal growth courses that led to spiritual circles, initiations, and deep soul work. For over 17 years, I've gathered tools, trained in modalities, and sat in sacred spaces with seekers and healers.

I've lost friendships I never imagined I'd walk away from—and built new ones that brought more laughter, alignment, and soul nourishment than I ever expected.

And I've rekindled a love with someone who, like me, has known both heartbreak and healing.

But the path here hasn't been easy.

The Crack That Changed Everything

In 2018, I was in a car accident that changed everything.

The physical pain that followed was relentless—headaches that lasted 20 days out of 30, nerve damage, and months where my upper body locked so tightly I couldn't even roll out of bed.

I was exhausted. Depressed. Overwhelmed.

At the time, I was working full-time, raising a teenage son, and managing acreage life—animals, land, and all that comes with it. I was also showing up as a daughter, sister, friend, auntie… and a farmer's wife. If you know that life, you know how much it asks of you.

Pain affected my mood, my energy, and my ability to love with patience or show up the way I used to.

And as I began speaking up for what I needed—what felt fair—the dynamic shifted.

I had built the relationship on silence, people-pleasing, codependency, and over-functioning.

But I couldn't survive that anymore.

The Final Breaking Point

One of the final turning points came in 2022.

I gifted my partner a session with a psychic medium after an earlier energetic experience where his late father came through me. The connection was undeniable.

The medium spoke truths that mirrored my own long-held needs—emotional clarity, boundaries, honesty.

But instead of feeling validated, he felt betrayed. He believed I had orchestrated the session.

In an effort to reconnect, we booked a trip to Costa Rica for Christmas and New Year's with my family. Not sure what I was thinking, but I guess I needed the chaos to break free!

It was supposed to be a reset. Instead, it became the unraveling.

On December 22nd, 2022, at 6 a.m., he screamed at me in a glass-walled complex—loud enough for the entire building to hear.

"He'd had enough of me," he said. He packed his bags, attempted to take all the cash, and continued to hurl insults and names.

My son came down from another rental—heartbroken and humiliated.

We flew home days later, knowing the relationship was over.

The Night That Changed Us Forever

Shortly after arriving home—by taxi, after our car battery died at the airport—everything erupted.

The anger was loud. The tension, unbearable.

I had arranged a rental viewing for 9 a.m.—organized while still in Costa Rica—but he made it clear we weren't welcome to stay the night.

He hurled the same cruel insults, called me names, and showed no compassion for the storm we were all in.

My teenage son stepped between us—protecting his mom from the chaos. My son took a swing.

By 4 a.m., the RCMP were at our door.

I left wearing a housecoat, yoga pants, a bra, and carrying my laptop.

My son had a backpack—and ended up in the back seat of the RCMP truck that escorted us to my parents' empty home as they were still on vacation.

My son was visibly shaken, afraid he might be charged. That threat had been made the moment his fist made contact.

The RCMP comforted him with words of support, examples of healthy versus toxic behavior, and genuine care.

But what makes a teenager punch an adult?

Not because he couldn't control himself—but because he believed, in that moment, it might knock some sense into a man who had lost his.

Believe me, I am heartbroken that my son was ever put in a position where he felt I needed physical protection from my partner.

No child should have to step into that role. And he shouldn't have had to.

But he did. We both live with the memories.

Rising From the Ashes

We weren't welcomed back, and we didn't want to go back. We did need our belongings, though.

Within four days, we secured an apartment, painted it, cleaned it. We were gifted what we needed at the exact time we needed it. In a tight rental market, we found immediate availability in a prime location—we were safe, recovering emotionally and physically.

With the RCMP's support, we returned to collect our belongings.

We packed what we could into black garbage bags with zero preparation and moved towns in a horse trailer that still had cow shit on the floor.

And then came the grief.

The year that followed was not triumphant.

It was raw. Relentless. Disorienting.

I couldn't stop crying.

I couldn't see a clear future.

The vision I had for my life—what it was supposed to look like—had shattered.

It was hard to parent through that kind of pain, all while still physically hurting from my accident injuries, still actively needing treatments, and moving through two active legal cases.

Some days, it was hard to even get dressed.

But somehow, piece by piece, I kept going.

And from that rubble, something real began to rise.

The Birth of Soul School

The Soul School was born from that becoming.

Not from a neat, clean healing story—but from the grief, the gutting, and the choice to rise anyway.

This isn't a victim story.
It's a self-advocate's story.

I have stood tall in the legal system—both in the battle that followed that breakup and in my ongoing fight for rightful compensation with an insurance company.

He served me first. I responded with truth. I won.

The court saw the integrity of my role, my contribution, and my requests. I didn't ask for more than what was fair.

And I stand behind every choice I made.

And I continue to stand.

In my ongoing dispute with Wawanesa Insurance, I show up with truth, evidence, receipts, and documented future care costs.

It has been over six years—closer to seven.

Despite paid mediators, three independent medical examinations, over 300 treatments, lost wages, and guaranteed future care costs, Wawanesa still refuses to come to the table with a fair and reasonable offer.

The system we pay into is deeply broken.

But I don't waver.

The Medicine I've Learned

Because I've learned:

When we speak up, we don't lose our power. We claim it.

This work—this sacred creation—is dedicated to the Farmer.

A soul contract I believe I called in.

He played the hardest role in my becoming.

And for that, I say: thank you.

Because from the wreckage, I remembered myself.

Today, I lead with clarity, truth, and radical self-acceptance.

Not because everything is easy now—but because I no longer abandon myself to make others comfortable.

If This Resonates...

If you've been cracked open—

If you're still rising—

If you're rebuilding a life that finally feels like

you

—
Welcome home.

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With clarity and cayenne,
Christie Dawn
Founder of The Soul School, Living Me Authentically, and Spirit Snugglers
Soul Trainer | Vibrational Activator | Certified Psychodynamic Somatic Life Coach | Reiki Practitioner | Yoga Nidra Guide