I was a child once. I remember it...

It lasted until 18, that springboard into adulthood. I'd been born prepared. The plan was straightforward. I would be an unmitigated success.
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In my 20's, I was a secondary school teacher, working both here and in the Middle East. In my 30’s, I threw caution to the wind and set up a Private Investigations company. My ultimate passion, however, had always been writing so, in my 40’s, I undertook a MA in Creative Writing and published 3 novels.
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On Facebook, I presented very well indeed. Job done.
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Privately, however, like every other human, I'd fitted-in less shiny stuff. Health, finances, children, divorce, the grief that accompanies bereavement and endings. And writing - although the dream - is ever so lonely. All that time for self-contemplation, sweating the small stuff, stuck in existential loops, willing the arrival of a spiritual epiphany because other people had them: I knew one, and he continued to present as sane, only now with a serene undercurrent (the type that triumphs during heated debates).  
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By the end of my 40's, I was very much getting on my nerves. Thank god, it landed; the simple truth...
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Somebody up there had it in for me, and it wasn't the Big Guy.
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The culprit was my inner voice. It had never liked me. Critical, cruel, the collector of slights and unpleasant happenings, it played my failings on loop. 
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A therapist once told me (please excuse the language, but it was clinical advice), "Tell it out loud, Go f@*k yourself!" So I did, a lot. But my inner voice was a thick-skinned narcissist. We were diametrically opposed, I very much hoped.
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By 50, as a matter of urgency, I embarked on a lifechange. I didn't want answers anymore. I wanted control of my head.
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Now, I've always been physically sensitive to people's positive and negative energy. Sometimes, good people make my synapses hum, like a lovely electric current. This is not magic, it's a sensitivity to biofields which, once upon a time, we all had in spades. And Reiki has always mildly intrigued me, but I had no burning urge to practice it. So even I was confused when I found myself on a Reiki First Degree course. Equally bewildered was the other student on the course - her baby slept badly, Reiki had helped and she was here to learn how to administer it herself.

Neither of us could pinpoint how we had arrived at this moment. That morning, she had even spoken to her friend/Reiki therapist, who reassured her, You don't find Reiki, Reiki finds you. If the practice was right for us - it would make itself heard. ​ 

And, oh my, did it. Immediately. The coincidences between us were extraordinary. We lived miles apart, had never met, yet our paths had experienced near misses for years. Places, experiences, people, especially names. She and I shared a middle and last name. The day before, her partner (called Tom) had attended an interview at my partner's (also called Tom) company. It could have been staged. It wasn't. It was synergy, delivered with a fog horn. 
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I felt the benefits of Reiki, instantly. A sense of clarity, positivity and possibility. Completely intrigued, I completed my Second Degree and became a practitioner, so witnessed the astonishing effects Reiki can have on the mind, body and soul. 

I am now a Usui Reiki Master Practitioner and Teacher.

My clients' issues are varied - depression, insomnia, IBS, ADHD, menopause, bulemia, COPD and palliative relief are a few examples. For some it has been life-changing.

And because, too often, therapy rooms are the size of a cupboard and exude the warmth of an operating theatre, I have built a beautiful little refuge - The Cabin. Reiki is deeply relaxing and I want a space that feels a complete treat to visit.
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So Reiki found me. As for that inner voice, yes, it still raises it head, because I am human. But it's been brought down a peg or two, living out its days - by and large - in the doghouse.