About Me
If you’ve given so much of yourself that the ‘you’ part feels quiet now…
A personal note on motherhood, transition, and learning to listen inward.
If life is stable but something inside feels in between chapters…
You’re not alone.
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The in-between chapters are subtle and unsettling.
There’s often a sensation in the body you can’t quite shake—something unnamed, something persistent. It may quiet for a while, and then it returns.
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I get it. I’ve been there.
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You’ve done the work. You’re committed. And just when it feels like you’ve found the right rhythm—your footing, your direction—the landscape shifts again.
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Motherhood as a Threshold
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When my children were babies and toddlers, their shifts came quickly and visibly.
Physical changes were easy to understand.
A crawling child meant learning, overnight, how to protect her from stairs.
Each developmental milestone made sense because it was concrete and obvious.
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As my children grew—into school age—the shifts became less visible, but you can feel it and understand it, if you were well-attuned.
At the higher grade school/high school levels, suddenly they realized Mom no longer lived inside their heads— as if we ever did! —and the terrain changed in ways that felt erratic, emotional, and often hard to name.​
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Through every stage, I found myself constantly adjusting—rebalancing my energy, my attention, my nervous system—to meet their needs.
And somewhere along the way, a quiet question began to surface:
How attuned have I been to my own needs and desires through all this change?
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Parenting has been a central force in my inner work.
I am deeply grateful for the lessons, the humility, the insight, and the devotion it has required.
It is rewarding—and it is also relentless.
It has a way of bringing every unexamined pattern, fear, and fault into the light.​
God has a wicked sense of humor in creating ‘parenting'.
And also….
an extraordinary intelligence—one that keeps the human race evolving, if we are willing to pay attention.
What I Learned by Living It
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Over time, I began to see something clearly:
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The discomfort I felt wasn’t a failure or a flaw.
It was information.
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The emotions that surfaced—guilt, grief, shame, restlessness, longing—weren’t obstacles to overcome.
They were signals, pointing toward something that needed attention, honesty, or care.
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I had become exquisitely skilled at sensing others—anticipating, accommodating, supporting.
What I was less practiced at was listening inward with the same respect and precision.
Learning to listen differently—to my emotions, my body, my inner responses—changed everything.
I discovered that emotions are not random or disruptive.
They are a language.
A guidance system.
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Each one carries a specific intelligence, inviting us toward truth, responsibility, forgiveness, trust, or self-honoring—depending on what is being felt.
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This realization didn’t come from theory alone.
It came from living inside the questions.
How I Listen and Guide Today
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Today, I work as a coach and guide for women—often mothers in transitional chapters—who sense that their inner world is asking for deeper attention.
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My work is grounded in emotional awareness, somatic practices, breathwork, meditation, and Kundalini-informed tools. But more than any modality, it is shaped by how I listen.
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I listen for:
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What emotion is asking to be known
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Where responsibility is being avoided or over-carried
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Where truth is being softened, delayed, or withheld
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Where the body already knows what the mind is circling
I don’t believe emotions need to be fixed.
I believe they need to be understood—and then integrated into lived choice.
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This work is reflective and forward-moving.
It honors both feeling and action.
Insight matters here—but only insofar as it changes how you live, relate, and choose.
A Note on Spiritual Language
A word about language, since it matters.
I didn’t resonate with the church I grew up with.
I am spiritual, but not religious.
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Through my own inner work, I came to experience—and now share—a deeper understanding of the Self and the inherent intelligence within each of us.
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Words that once felt abstract or “woo” became lived realities.
Joy stopped being an idea and became something embodied.
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That—my friend—is the opposite of suffering.
And it already lives in you.
I’m grateful you’ve found your way here.
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If something in these words resonated—if you felt seen or steadied or quietly recognized—I’m glad we met in this space.
You’re welcome to explore this work further, in your own time and rhythm.
And if you choose to walk a portion of this path with me, I would be honored to serve as a guide for that chapter.
With grit and grace,
Anna SachKiret
I hold space for women to engage with their emotions as teachers, not obstacles — creating clarity, choice, and agency in their lives.