I was born an only child to an Irish-Catholic father and an English atheist mother. As I grew up, I remember an on-going tension between my parents concerning my religious upbringing. There was an unquestionable expectation that I would be baptized a Catholic by the Irish side of my family, but my mother would not allow that to happen.
She felt that the Catholic church was cruel and controlling and didn’t want to place me within it. My father agreed with her, he wasn’t particularly into the church at that time, and so they agreed to leave me unbaptized, which in the eyes of the church, meant I was a sinner and also very vulnerable to the devil’s influence.
The Irish side of the family hugely disagreed with their decision and this most likely placed a great weight upon them. I knew this worried my dad, and so, in secret, he taught me how to pray.
I believe the anger and tension between my mum and dad, was at its core this religious issue, and how dad felt torn between his family and mum. I also suspect mum may have questioned her beliefs, especially once I began to show signs of opening my heart, and becoming curious of spiritual things. Perhaps she may have wondered whether she was doing the right thing, and whether she had the strength to face the Irish side of the family and everything else that goes with the Catholic church.
Despite this fundamental issue, all three of us were extremely close. We were tactile, open, easy, honest, and loving. But as soon as the Irish influence would show up, a wild force of aggression could arise between them at any moment.
I felt my mum feared the Catholic church, and the Irish side of the family feared her and the possibility that she could lead dad astray. I believe my childhood experiences created the attraction to not only meet, but marry a predator.
On with the story…
I first came into contact with the predator at the end of February 2009. I messaged him on Facebook after reading one of his books, as I was impressed with the writing and elated that someone had written a more mystical account of Christ and his disciples. I felt a sense of hope, that this person may also have a strong love of Christ and the desire to live a life based on Christ’s principles.
Within days he had replied “I knew you were close. I could sense you in my consciousness. I have dreamt of you. I knew it was you by your hair.”
I was quite taken back, and curious. Secretly, this was everything I longed to hear. A Christ man who knew of my existence. A sense that he was looking for me, as much as I was looking for him.
Prior to meeting the predator, all of my boyfriends had been feminine men, artists, musicians, and designers. I noticed that I would often feel bored or restless, and fed up with being the decision-maker, so I made a conscious decision that my next mate would be a different kind of man. I felt it would be wise to seek out an alpha male, and to see how I responded.
After a few days of messaging, we agreed to meet in London’s Camden town. This was March 2009. Our very first meeting was in a café. We hardly spoke to one another, instead just gazed. I believe we held hands and occasionally he would speak. He informed me he could open my womb and reveal all the gifts that were embedded there. He spoke about the fears he could see within my soul and all my hurts and sorrows.
I felt “penetrated”. I felt he could read my mind, and knew me more than I knew myself at that stage. I was mesmerized. He wanted to make love with me that night, and was upset that I wasn’t prepared to sleep with him. He said I was making a big mistake and maybe I would never be in a position to sleep with him again. This upset me, as the image of the Christ man would never speak like that.
I managed to get away. On the train home, I seemed to come back to my senses and felt I needed to end things there and then. I felt like I was getting into something way out of my league. But there was an inner dilemma.
Part of me wanted to proceed on, to see where things would lead — and another part was saying “Get Out”. So, while still on the train I texted how I would be busy during the coming days before I went abroad to teach yoga. I thought that was the end.
I believe he simply replied, “Meet me in Avebury, at midday at the bookstore.” That was just three days later. That was it. I went to meet him. He had arranged a room at a Bed & Breakfast. I said I had not planned for that. He said decide later. And of course, after so much enamouring — I stayed. And this time there was no escaping his forward moving intentions. He insisted and insisted and insisted.
He is a big man, and I am only 5 ft. 3 inches. I did want him, I was also sexually drawn. But it was impossible to get him off had I wanted too, and I was not sure whether I did, or didn’t. It was a swirl of heady emotions and lots of talk of past lives, and past love. He claimed that he had been Judas in a past life, and still very much felt like the black sheep. The doors of my heart flew open at that one. As for me, Judas took on a particular task, that only a deeper love could endure.
I was now starting to fall very deeply in love. It felt like a spiritual love. And so I surrendered. I wanted to truly be with him on every level, especially with this understanding that he had once been Judas.
Then it all moved very fast. We planned to move to France. He knew how much I loved the Cathar region of South West France, and he felt we needed a period of alone time to get to know one another. During this time he had just begun to write another book and invited me to become the co-author. This seemed like a dream come true.
He knew I was looking for a change of direction in my life. I had come as far as I could being a Kundalini yoga instructor. He knew I had deep interests in sacred sexuality, heiros gamos, and sacred union. He suggested that I pack in being a yoga teacher, and instead, spend my time writing with him in France.
He said he would find the house and take care of the financial and logistical details. The alpha male was in charge and I was learning to surrender. It felt strange, but I kept on trusting, knowing that it’s bound to feel odd and allow someone else to take charge and lead the way.
We started to speak about the concept of Twin Flames, that we could be the other half of one another’s soul and this made perfect sense to us and explained away this inexhaustible attraction to one another.
I could hardly breathe without him. When we were separated, he would text, Skype, and email me constantly with pages of love, insights, guidance, and wisdom. I was amazed at how much he could feel me when we were so far apart. He seemed to sense when I was missing him or doubting him. And then he would either appear or send a message.
I felt like I belonged to someone. That I had surrendered. I had let go, and was in the process of merging.
By the time we left for France in June 2009, a few warning signs were appearing. There was one time we were arguing in his mother’s house in London, and he threw me across the room. His mother came into the room asking him to stop, and he told her to keep out, that it was none of her business, and that I was now his fiancé.
Another time, I noticed he was terribly rude to his mother. Telling her to shut up in front of my parents. She had offered her opinion on something and he just silenced her. I also noticed he disliked my best friend, and started to warn me against her.
He seemed to have this ability to switch his charm on and off. When he was “off” it was like a thunderstorm was gathering. I could actually sense the build-up of storm clouds around us. It was palpable. And of course, familiar. This was how I would often feel as a child.
By the time we moved to France, his mood swings were every three days. I began to record and document our behaviour — to see whether there was a pattern. The pattern was every third day he would start off in a depression and by the afternoon flare up into a raging storm.
We would have blazing rows, and that would often end in physical violence because I would try to leave. I did not like arguing or confrontation, and so I would attempt to leave. He would try to lock me in a room or grab me as I tried to leave through the front door, or out of a window. I would try to get out of his clutches and we would often end up on the floor wrestling with one another.
One time he yelled at me “I am the anti-Christ”, and I completely believed him.
During all of this, we were writing a book on the Sacred Feminine and the Womb. It was hard to decipher what was what. Were we arguing because of our daily lives, or were we arguing because we were unravelling and getting into our gender-based wounding?
It was during this time that I developed gynecological problems. I had a polyp and pre-cancerous cells on my cervix. This made the writing and the journey altogether more real. It provided a very real scare, and gave me the sincerity to make the journey of recovery authentic and mappable. I began delving into my sexuality, gender-based issues, and buried emotions. Obviously, a lot came up!
Up came my childhood, the religious wars, the violence, the fear, the guilt, the shame — everything and more. During this time he was exceptionally loving. Holding me, taking me to the hospital, holding my hand through all the medical procedures. It felt as if we went through this health crisis together, which led me to bond with him even more.
However, once I had the all clear, the same three-day darkness would return.
I felt very cut off and alone. I was not allowed out of his sight. He went with me everywhere. One time, I did manage to escape and I fled to the Angel Sanctuary, an art gallery in a nearby town. I explained what was happening.
All I was wearing was a long tee shirt. No underwear, no shoes. I had my passport and money. The lady said just get away. Get in my car and drive back to the UK.
Instead, I drove back to where he was waiting. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready to accept that all of this was wrong, and that I had made a mistake. I thought I was just having problems adjusting to his alpha male.
Plus, we were writing this book together. I did not want to mess this up and lose my chance of being a writer. And, the importance of the book weighed heavy upon me. I felt as if I would be letting women down if I walked away. So I hung in there.
And it carried on like this non-stop.
I would be taken on all his retreats, half the time I was his esteemed co-teacher, the other half, I would be humiliated and shunned, or used as an example of a person with deep wounds. It was very shameful to see how low I fell. All the students were forbidden to speak to me, or show any signs of compassion. Everyone was afraid of him. Once again, he kept me close to his side, and should I get close to anyone, I was swiftly pulled away.
In September 2009 there was a retreat to Egypt. This retreat was pure madness. The first thing he wanted was for me to be intimate with another female participant. I refused, and he was furious saying this refusal was my own conditioning, and how I needed to move beyond it.
I questioned whether this was true. I had not done any sexual healing work, and being British, I kind of suspected I may have sexual issues. So I was open to exploring these ideas for myself as contemplation, not as an act that involved other people.
The whole retreat turned into a fantasy-driven hunt for dark aliens inside of the ancient Egyptian tombs. He announced that he was the reincarnation of Osiris and this was a big mission, that we were destined to accomplish. It really was a life or death situation.
Towards the end of the retreat, the final ceremony took place in the Cheops pyramid where he “channelled” the anti-Christ and all that was dark and evil into my womb for transmutation. He felt that my health crisis was a sign that I had an open and pure womb, and that I was destined to take on this level of work on behalf of us all. And of course, I agreed — because it tied into my childhood prayers to take on one day of the 40 days in the wilderness. This must be it!
As I was lying naked in the sarcophagus, the strange proceedings began. I knew to hold onto my prayers for dear life. And to be honest, I did feel safe and protected despite the madness that was going on up above me.
In December 2009, we were married, and by that time I was indeed a nervous wreck. I knew I was making a dreadful mistake, but I didn’t have the courage to call it off.
In January 2010, we moved to a Greek island, where once again I was isolated, cut off, and knew no one. He had stopped working. We were having an online sabbatical. So all his attention was on me. I felt like an experiment in his petri dish.
We fought furiously. It is a miracle that I am still here. It wasn’t a case of punching, but brawling. I would forever be trying to escape through doors and windows, and he would simply pull me back in. To get off the island seemed impossible.
There were times when he would plunge into a deep depression. Just lying on the sofa, not speaking, and growing greyer and greyer. One time, he asked me to commit suicide with him. I was terrified. I really thought he meant it. I think at the time he really did. At first, I said no which angered him. After a while, I said yes, but I didn’t mean it. I just wanted him to stop talking in that way.
After 10 months on the Greek island, we moved to Oxford, UK. He felt we would do better in a more social environment. I was elated to return to England, knowing that mum and dad would only be half an hour away in Oxford. So once again, I had renewed hope.
One month later, there was a particularly wild night where he smashed in the doors and walls of the house. I cannot remember the reason why. I think it was because I was ignoring him. I was ignoring him because I knew that any answer I gave would escalate his fury. My silence also did the same.
One year and one month later in January 2011, I left him. My parents came to pick me up. I walked away with £7 in my pocket. The next day, I filed for divorce on the grounds of domestic violence. I had to move quick, because I knew I had the capacity to talk myself out of it.
I thought I loved him so deeply and completely. I seemed to be woven into him. Extricating myself from him was like my soul being slid up and down a cheese-grater. I have never known such intense pain. I thought my lungs were bleeding. But, I finally loved myself more now, and knew in the name of love, I must not proceed with this man.
During this time, I lived with my parents in my old bedroom. They took care of me. Quietly allowing my gentle recovery. After a few months, I was offered a flat-sitting opportunity in London, which I took. I wanted to know how I would function without mum and dad. Months later, I felt ready to treat myself to a healing retreat on the island of Maui.
After that, I returned to England to begin the process of writing Sacred Sexual Union. It was a quiet period of introspection, retrieval of my creativity and identity, and lots and lots of healing, through touch and reconnection with people.
Despite going through all that, I went back to him in May 2012 for six weeks. Why? I still could not accept that I had failed with him. I was very ashamed of being divorced. I still suspected he was my Twin Flame. I just couldn’t explain away why I had grown so close to someone. I wanted to try one more time. I had to make sense of all this. I couldn’t explain this all away. There were questions everywhere and no answers.
He had created a retreat centre in Provence, and so I moved from my parent’s house to be there with him.
I was unnerved to see how he was now more of a “guru”. I felt like I was in a movie. The students doing the most bizarre things in the name of spiritual growth. Making food for him, massaging him, having meetings at 3:00 in the morning.
Everyone was walking on eggshells. I felt they were doing some dangerous practises, like extreme water fasts with daily colonic’s, and separating from their children. It felt foreboding, untrue and they were clearly not happy.
He had turned into some kind of icon. I was concerned.
Sure enough, the arguments began as I was not under his spell. I did not want him to become my spiritual teacher, I thought for myself, and attempted to be outside of his rule. There was one time when he was forbidding a 7-year old child to leave her room before 11:00 a.m. because he would be in meditation. For some reason, I exploded.
This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It was one thing for adults to live under this madness, but it was another for an innocent child to do the same.
In the midst of all the students there was this huge row in the kitchen. I would not back down, no matter what he did or said. And the very next day he left for England.
He was gone. He called the next day asking for the students to kick out, but they refused. He was furious.
Days later, he was having an MRI scan in London with a suspected tumour. In the end, there wasn’t one.
I stayed for a while, maybe a week. We were all shell-shocked. Not really knowing what was going to happen next. The people staying at the ashram were very kind to me, and supportive — suggesting that I now get on with my life, and start again. Days later I did exactly that, I got in my car and drove to another area in France.
Even though we had formally separated, he still pursued me via email. Sometimes messages of love and how he was missing me, but most often emails containing threats, questions of why I never saw him, knew who he was, etc.?
He hassled me for years. Creating public online campaigns against me, slandering my name, and accusing me of stealing his work. He blamed me for everything. When we were together in Provence, I asked him whether I could use a portion from one of his books, for my new book on Sacred Union. He said yes, which I can verify, but then later denied.
In 2015, I began writing another book. This book was made up of three parts. Sacred Feminine, Sacred Marriage, and Sacred Masculine. I had completed the first two parts, and was putting off the Sacred Masculine section, because I felt I was not capturing the true voice in the right and necessary way.
Then I began to think about how unbalanced everything was between the predator and I. His biggest issue was the first book we wrote together, how this book became a thorn in his side. He felt I had stolen his limelight, his work, his readers etc.
I felt it was only right that I should extend the hand of friendship and ask him to contribute to my next book. I felt this would balance us out, and it would be the right course of action and how this act could potentially bring us peace.
So, I contacted him and asked him — and he agreed. I was not up to date with where we was, or what he was into. I felt it wise to stay on a professional level with him. So I didn’t inquire into his personal life.
Within six weeks of easy and effortless writing — the book was completed. The publisher, Inner Traditions, was happy and all was well.
But then once the book was completed the invitations to open up began again. He started to send daily emails with probing questions, suggestions to teach together, the asking of personal questions and the sending of music (always a big hook for me). Before I knew it, he was trying to edge his way back into my life again. So, I backed off immediately, leaving him out in the cold.
He got wild and threatening and began looking for a fight…and he found it. He found it in the pages of my earlier book. He saw how I have copied his description of the Egyptian light bodies word for word — and this became his weapon.
He chased me down, threatening to take me to court for plagiarism. And so the conversation started up again. Back and forth we went, I produced the emails where he had agreed for me to use his material as long as I credited him, which I had, but this did not stop him. On and on we slogged it out.
By this time, many years had passed and I was with Pete, a good and solid relationship was starting and I knew this one was going to be deep and true. I wanted the predator’s influence over me and my life gone.
So I succumbed. I just wanted him out of my life for good. I asked my/our publisher for help. They could only offer us a contract declaring that we were forbidden to slander one another, to end this petty war, to drop all accusations of plagiarism, and to settle this quarrel. In the end, I paid him £10,000 (that I dreamt up and gave willingly), and we signed the contract with Inner Traditions, USA.
Meeting the predator has been the single most intense period of my life. Still, to this day, I would not change any aspect of this journey. I do believe that my 7-year interaction with him was one day in the wilderness. I believe my early childhood years of fearing and being curious of the devil, led to this experience. I believe my being unbaptized set in motion a feeling of seeking out redemption and repentance. I had this feeling of being unprotected, and vulnerable to evil attack.
Because of this highly taboo and forbidden subject, I developed an inner naive curiosity towards the dark side of life, wondering whether the devil and evil really existed.
I now realise without any doubt — it does exist. Both as an outer and inner expression, and as an individual and collective force.
Another earlier contemplation; was the feeling that maybe a brother was out there. That another soul existed, just like me, and all I had to do was find him. I almost believed that soul was the predator. But the truth of the matter was, I thought that soul was Jesus. Because Jesus had become my childhood friend, I imagined, as I grew older that I must have been a disciple, and at times, Jesus himself!
I believe this relationship with Jesus was my only solitude for the actual harshness and coldness of life. I found daily life to be too colourful, too noisy, and way too much happening. I wanted to be left alone most often. And because of this, my inner world grew.
One last aspect to draw from this reflection is what is now known as Stockholm syndrome. This is where a hostage falls in love with her captor. During the time of my health scare, because of the fear of dying from cancer — I believe I entered a state of falling more in love with him.
We seemed to go on this deep and meaningful journey together. The predator showed me such exceptional kindness, care, concern, and seemed to be praying and organising this huge and full recovery on the inner and outer planes. I felt as if our dark times were over, and this was the beginning of our true love and union.
Since the predator, I have not taken another spiritual teacher, or joined any other community. I have turned inwards towards Julie for rehabilitation, and sharing my findings mostly with other women. My path has been one of self-love and love of God.
It has been a long and slow journey. Along with my animals, being in nature every day, and now the living of my life with Pete, my husband, slowly, slowly, slowly, I can stand up and share my story.
For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends The Universe Has Your Back: Transform Fear to Faith.
Sip a little more: