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By Allison Batty-Capps | Blossoming Heart Wellness
Have you ever received a message accusing you of doing something wrong, but without a specific example of what you supposedly did?
Perhaps someone told you that you were lying, misrepresenting events, or creating a false narrative. Maybe they insisted that they had supported you, leaving you feeling that your hurt was being dismissed. Or perhaps they used intimidating language that made you afraid to speak openly about your own experiences.
What happens when these interactions become a recurring pattern in a relationship?
How do we distinguish an uncomfortable conversation from communication that repeatedly undermines our emotional well-being? And how can we recognize potentially emotionally abusive dynamics without diagnosing another person, assuming their intentions, or dismissing the possibility that both people have legitimate concerns?
These are questions I explore through my work at Blossoming Heart Wellness and my own experiences navigating difficult family relationships.
I’m Allison Batty-Capps, author of The Divine Within: Healing Ourselves to Heal the World. My background includes counseling psychology, and my work explores the intersection of spirituality, psychology, neuroscience, and relational healing.
In this article, I want to examine several communication patterns that can interfere with healthy dialogue: vague accusations, appeals to past support that dismiss present hurt, intimidating language, attacks on credibility, and withdrawal following disagreement or boundary-setting.
I will also explore what healthier alternatives can look like and how we can protect our emotional well-being while remaining compassionate toward ourselves and others.
My intention is not to diagnose anyone or determine another person’s motives. It is to explore the impact of recurring relational patterns and consider how we might move toward communication grounded in mutual respect, accountability, and emotional safety.
Disagreement is a normal part of human relationships.
We remember events differently. We interpret situations through our own experiences. We misunderstand one another, become defensive, say things we later regret, and sometimes struggle to hear feedback that challenges our understanding of ourselves.
A healthy relationship does not require perfect communication.
It requires a willingness to recognize that our perspective may be incomplete, consider the impact of our behavior, and work toward understanding when misunderstandings or hurt occur.
The distinction between ordinary conflict and potentially emotionally abusive communication often involves more than a single interaction.
Consider the difference between these two situations.
In the first, someone says something hurtful during an argument. When they recognize the impact, they acknowledge it, listen to the other person’s experience, and make an effort to communicate differently in the future.
In the second, someone repeatedly responds to expressions of hurt with personal attacks, broad accusations, intimidation, or rejection. Attempts to discuss the impact are met with further dismissal, and the underlying concerns remain unresolved.
Both situations can involve hurtful words. But the recurring pattern and its impact may be very different.
An isolated interaction does not automatically establish emotional abuse. Likewise, a person does not have to use explicitly cruel language for a recurring pattern to become harmful.
Repeated humiliation, intimidation, coercion, threats, or efforts to undermine another person’s confidence and autonomy can be features of emotional abuse. Context, frequency, severity, and the broader relationship all matter.
We need to look beyond what was said in one moment and examine what repeatedly happens when someone expresses a need, disagrees, or establishes a boundary.
Does the relationship make room for both people’s experiences? Can concerns be raised without one person being attacked or silenced? Is there an opportunity for accountability and repair?
Or does one person increasingly feel that speaking honestly puts their emotional security or place in the relationship at risk?
These are important questions because relational harm is not always obvious from the outside.
Imagine receiving a message that begins:
“Please stop posting mistruths about family.”
The word mistruths communicates that something is allegedly inaccurate. Yet without identifying the specific statement in question, explaining what is inaccurate, or offering an alternative account, the accusation leaves the recipient with little concrete information to address.
What exactly is being challenged?
Is it a particular event? A date? A direct quotation? The interpretation of an interaction? The emotional impact the person describes? Or the broader conclusion they have drawn from a series of experiences?
These are very different concerns, and each requires a different conversation.
A person is entitled to disagree with someone else’s account of an event. They may remember the situation differently or believe a particular statement is factually incorrect.
The problem is not disagreement itself.
The difficulty arises when broad accusations of dishonesty repeatedly replace specific discussion, leaving one person’s credibility on trial without providing a clear opportunity to address the concern.
When this happens repeatedly, the recipient may begin to feel that expressing their experience will result in being portrayed as dishonest, irrational, or untrustworthy.
They may begin over-explaining, collecting evidence, defending their intentions, or questioning whether they are even allowed to describe what they experienced.
If the person has also previously been called names such as delusional during disagreements, a new accusation about their credibility may carry additional emotional weight.
That context does not automatically establish an abusive pattern. But repeated attacks on someone’s credibility can become particularly harmful when they are used to shut down discussion rather than engage with the substance of a concern.
Rather than making a broad accusation, someone might say:
“I read your post, and there is one statement I remember differently. You wrote that a particular event happened this way, but my recollection is different. Would you be willing to discuss it?”
This approach does several things differently.
Healthy communication does not mean that every statement must go unchallenged. It means concerns can be raised in a way that allows meaningful dialogue.
We can question a statement without automatically declaring the person who made it dishonest.
That distinction matters in every relationship, especially when people are discussing painful experiences or complicated family histories.
Another common response to expressions of hurt is an appeal to the support that has already been offered.
For example:
“We have all tried to support you the best we can.”
This statement may reflect a sincere belief. A person may genuinely feel that they have done everything within their capacity to help someone they care about.
Their perspective deserves space, too.
But there is an important distinction between expressing one’s own experience of offering support and using that experience to invalidate someone else’s experience of not feeling supported.
Both experiences can coexist.
One person may believe they have made considerable efforts to help. The other may recognize those efforts while still feeling that important emotional needs have gone unmet.
Support in one area does not automatically resolve hurt in another. Good intentions do not guarantee that support will be experienced in the way it was intended.
For example, a family member might provide practical assistance during a difficult period while struggling to engage in conversations about relational pain. The recipient may appreciate the practical help and still feel emotionally unsupported.
Neither observation necessarily cancels the other.
The conversation becomes more difficult when an expression of hurt is met with a reminder of everything the other person believes they have done.
The focus shifts away from understanding the hurt and toward determining whether the person expressing it is sufficiently appreciative.
The recipient may begin to feel guilty for raising concerns. They may wonder whether they have forfeited the right to express pain because someone has helped them in other ways.
Over time, this dynamic can make honest communication feel conditional: you can express gratitude, but you must be careful not to discuss anything that might challenge the relationship’s existing narrative.
When recurring, this can undermine emotional openness and make it harder to address unresolved problems.
A more collaborative response might be:
“I feel that I have tried to support you, and I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t always experienced it that way. Can you help me understand what has felt supportive and what has felt hurtful to you?”
This response does not require the speaker to agree with every aspect of the other person’s account.
It simply acknowledges that intention and impact can differ.
It creates room for both people to describe their experiences without requiring one to invalidate the other.
Healthy relationships benefit from this kind of curiosity because it allows us to discover where our understanding differs and what we might do differently in the future.
Consider another statement:
“You cannot continue to create a defamatory and libelous narrative on your platform.”
There are legitimate reasons someone might be concerned about public statements involving them. They may believe that something is inaccurate, misleading, or damaging to their reputation.
Raising a concern about potentially defamatory content is not inherently abusive.
However, the way that concern is communicated matters.
When someone combines a directive such as “You cannot continue” with serious legal terminology, without identifying the particular statement being challenged, the recipient may experience the message as intimidating.
The person receiving it may be left wondering whether any further discussion of their experiences could lead to legal consequences.
They may become afraid to speak, even when they believe they are describing their own experiences honestly and carefully.
If such language occurs within a broader pattern of personal attacks, rejection, or pressure to remain silent, it deserves closer examination.
The concern is not simply that someone used the words defamatory or libelous. Nor can we determine from the wording of a message alone whether its legal assertions have merit.
The concern is whether serious accusations are being used to address a specific, identifiable problem or whether they function within a recurring dynamic that discourages someone from expressing themselves.
Someone who has concerns about a public statement could say:
“I’m concerned that this particular statement may be inaccurate or could give readers a misleading impression. I’m referring to this specific passage, and here’s how I remember the situation differently. Would you be willing to discuss it?”
If the person is concerned about a potential legal issue, they can communicate that concern clearly and seek appropriate legal advice.
Healthy communication does not require someone to ignore genuine reputational concerns. It does, however, benefit from specificity, proportionate responses, and a clear distinction between expressing a concern and attempting to control another person’s voice.
There is also an important distinction between describing one’s own experience and making unsubstantiated claims about another person’s conduct.
When we discuss personal experiences publicly, we can be more thoughtful by distinguishing what we directly experienced, what we remember, what we infer, and what we cannot know about someone else’s intentions.
That care supports both ethical expression and more meaningful dialogue.
A disagreement about behavior can quickly become a conflict about character.
Instead of discussing a specific action, someone may describe the other person as dishonest, irrational, selfish, ungrateful, or incapable of understanding.
This changes the nature of the conversation.
A discussion about behavior invites reflection: What happened? What impact did it have? What might we do differently?
A personal attack places the person’s character on trial.
When this occurs repeatedly, the recipient may become more concerned with defending who they are than discussing what happened.
They may begin to anticipate criticism before speaking. They may carefully edit their words to avoid being misunderstood. They may feel compelled to prove that they are reasonable before their concerns will be considered.
This can be particularly destabilizing when the person delivering the criticism is someone whose approval or connection matters deeply to them.
It is important to distinguish a personal attack from legitimate feedback. Sometimes our behavior really does hurt others, and we may need to hear difficult things about ourselves.
Healthy accountability involves being willing to examine specific behaviors and their effects.
For example, compare these statements:
“You are selfish and never consider anyone but yourself.”
And:
“When you made that decision without discussing it with me, I felt excluded. I’d like us to talk about how we can handle similar decisions in the future.”
The second statement communicates an impact and identifies an opportunity for change without defining the other person’s entire character.
We can also offer feedback by describing our own experience rather than presenting our interpretation of another person’s motives as established fact.
The goal is not to eliminate discomfort from communication. It is to make difficult conversations more specific, respectful, and productive.
We should be able to examine behavior without reducing a person to their worst moment.
That principle applies to ourselves, too.
We can acknowledge that we have caused harm without concluding that we are fundamentally bad. We can take responsibility for mistakes without surrendering our right to have needs, boundaries, and a perspective of our own.
The term gaslighting is often used to describe situations in which someone feels dismissed or misunderstood. But it is important to use the term carefully.
Gaslighting generally refers to a pattern of psychological manipulation that undermines a person’s trust in their own perceptions, memories, or understanding of reality.
Not every disagreement about what happened is gaslighting.
People genuinely remember events differently. They can misunderstand one another, become defensive, or sincerely believe their interpretation is correct.
A disagreement becomes more concerning when someone repeatedly denies or distorts events, manipulates information, or attacks another person’s ability to perceive reality in ways that cause them to doubt their own judgment.
Similarly, not every hurtful message is emotional abuse.
Emotional abuse is generally understood in terms of harmful patterns of behavior, which may include intimidation, humiliation, coercion, threats, isolation, or repeated efforts to undermine another person’s autonomy and sense of self.
A single message may contain language that is unhelpful, accusatory, or intimidating without being sufficient to establish an abusive relationship.
At the same time, the absence of an explicit threat or insult does not mean that a recurring pattern is harmless.
The impact of communication can accumulate over time.
A person who repeatedly experiences their concerns being dismissed, their credibility challenged, or their boundaries met with rejection may begin to feel increasingly uncertain about their right to speak.
They may become afraid of disagreeing, saying no, or expressing an experience that differs from the preferred family narrative.
The important questions are:
These questions do not require us to diagnose another person.
They help us evaluate the relationship we are actually experiencing.
Another important consideration is what happens after a difficult conversation.
Sometimes, people need distance to regulate their emotions. They may need time to think, or they may not feel ready to discuss a painful subject.
Taking space is not inherently unhealthy.
The context matters.
There is a difference between communicating a need for space and using silence or withdrawal in a recurring way that pressures someone to abandon their concerns, retract a boundary, or restore the relationship on terms that leave the underlying issue untouched.
For example, a person might say:
“I’m feeling overwhelmed, and I need some time to process this. I care about our relationship, and I’d like us to revisit the conversation when I’m ready.”
That response communicates a need for space while acknowledging that the issue remains unresolved.
In contrast, when someone repeatedly withdraws after concerns are raised, does not return to the conversation, and later resumes contact without addressing what happened, the other person may be left carrying the unresolved emotional burden.
They may feel pressure to pretend everything is fine because raising the issue again could lead to further distance.
Over time, the relationship can become organized around avoiding discomfort rather than working through it.
The person seeking repair may become increasingly accommodating. They may stop expressing needs, minimize hurt, or take responsibility for restoring contact because they fear losing the relationship.
If withdrawal is deliberately used to punish, intimidate, or control another person’s behavior, it may be part of an emotionally abusive dynamic. But we cannot determine intent simply from the fact that someone has withdrawn. A pattern’s context, function, and impact all matter.
What we can evaluate is whether there is a sustainable way for both people to participate.
A healthy relationship can accommodate different communication styles and different needs for space. It also needs some way to address significant unresolved concerns.
Distance can provide room for reflection, but it cannot create mutual repair when neither person is willing to return to the issue.
When communication repeatedly leaves someone feeling dismissed, threatened, or discredited, the effects can extend beyond the original disagreement.
They may begin anticipating conflict before it happens. A message notification may trigger anxiety. They may rehearse conversations in their minds, trying to identify the perfect words to prevent another painful interaction.
They may over-explain, apologize excessively, or assume responsibility for other people’s emotional responses.
Some people begin questioning their memories or judgments. Others stop raising concerns altogether.
These responses are not proof that emotional abuse has occurred. They are possible reactions to relational stress and can arise in a range of circumstances.
But they deserve attention, especially when they persist.
When a relationship repeatedly leaves us feeling that we must defend our credibility, prove our worth, or suppress our needs to preserve connection, it may be time to examine the dynamic more closely.
For people with histories of relational trauma, these experiences can be especially difficult. Earlier experiences may shape how we respond to conflict, how we interpret distance, and how much responsibility we assume for keeping relationships intact.
That does not mean our perceptions are automatically correct, nor does it mean they should be dismissed.
It means that our experiences deserve thoughtful attention.
We can explore our own reactions while also evaluating what is happening in the relationship. Self-reflection and recognition of external harm are not mutually exclusive.
We can ask ourselves whether we have contributed to the conflict, whether we have communicated clearly, and whether we have respected the other person’s boundaries.
We can also ask whether our own needs are being given meaningful consideration.
Healthy accountability includes both.
This topic is personal for me.
In my own family of origin, I have experienced interactions that left me feeling that my credibility was being challenged rather than my specific concerns being addressed.
I have also experienced periods of distance following difficult conversations, and I have struggled with the absence of meaningful repair around issues that matter deeply to me.
In some instances, I have felt that I was expected to accommodate other people’s perspectives while my own experience remained unresolved.
I have tried to address these concerns through communication, reflection, boundary-setting, and invitations to participate in family therapy. Those efforts have not always resulted in the kind of mutual engagement I hoped for.
I want to be careful about how I describe these experiences.
I cannot know everything my family members feel or intend. They may have different recollections, different interpretations, and their own experiences of our relationships. I do not need to deny their perspectives in order to acknowledge my own.
I also recognize that I have patterns to examine and behaviors for which I am responsible.
My intention in sharing these reflections is not to ask others to take sides or to determine who is the good person and who is the bad person.
It is to explore what happens when communication repeatedly leaves someone feeling that their experience has no meaningful place in the relationship.
For me, this has raised difficult questions about emotional safety, reciprocity, and the limits of my responsibility.
I have had to consider how often I return to a difficult conversation believing that if I explain myself more clearly, acknowledge more of the other person’s perspective, or find a more compassionate way to communicate, we might finally understand one another.
Sometimes, that willingness to keep trying reflects genuine commitment to repair.
Other times, I have had to consider whether I am taking on too much responsibility for an outcome that requires another person’s participation.
This is something I am working to change.
I want relationships in which people can disagree without attacking one another’s character, express hurt without being dismissed, and establish boundaries without the relationship itself becoming a bargaining tool.
I want to remain open to feedback and accountability while also recognizing that my experience matters.
And I want to approach others with compassion without making myself responsible for resolving every relational difficulty.
These are not simple changes. They involve grief, uncertainty, and a willingness to reconsider deeply established patterns.
But I believe they are important steps toward a more grounded and sustainable way of relating.
What might change if we approached difficult conversations with curiosity rather than accusation?
Instead of insisting that someone is lying, we could identify the statement we believe is inaccurate and explain why.
Instead of responding to hurt by listing everything we have done for someone, we could acknowledge our intentions while becoming curious about the impact.
Instead of using threatening language to end a conversation, we could explain our concern, identify the issue, and communicate any necessary boundaries clearly.
Instead of turning a disagreement into a judgment of someone’s character, we could discuss the specific behavior and what might need to change.
These alternatives do not guarantee agreement.
Sometimes, two people will remember an event differently and will not reach a shared interpretation. Sometimes, they will disagree about what constitutes appropriate behavior or what they need from a relationship.
Healthy communication does not require us to resolve every difference.
It requires us to recognize that another person is entitled to their own experience, even when it differs from ours.
We can challenge a claim without dehumanizing the person who made it. We can disagree without assuming malicious intent. We can acknowledge the impact of our behavior without agreeing with every interpretation of that impact.
We can also decide that a particular conversation is not productive and take a break without using that break to punish or control the other person.
The goal is not to eliminate conflict.
It is to create conditions in which conflict can be addressed without repeatedly undermining the dignity, autonomy, or emotional well-being of the people involved.
When we recognize a harmful relational pattern, we may need to change how we participate in it.
That does not necessarily mean ending the relationship.
Depending on the circumstances, a boundary might involve limiting certain conversations, asking for specific concerns to be raised respectfully, taking time before responding, or declining to continue an interaction that has become personally attacking.
For example:
“I’m willing to discuss specific concerns about something I’ve shared publicly. I ask that we identify the statements in question and discuss them without personal attacks or assumptions about my character.”
Or:
“I understand that we may remember this differently. I’m open to hearing your perspective, and I also need room to express mine without being told that my experience is inherently untrue.”
Or:
“I care about this relationship, but I don’t want us to continue repeating a conversation that leaves both of us feeling unheard. I’m willing to revisit it if we can approach it with mutual respect.”
A boundary does not guarantee that the other person will respond constructively.
They may disagree with it. They may choose not to engage. They may interpret it differently than we intended.
The purpose of a boundary is not to control their response. It is to clarify what we need and what we are willing to participate in.
Sometimes, despite sincere efforts, the relationship may not become more reciprocal. In those circumstances, we may need to consider reduced contact or a longer period of separation.
For some people, estrangement may eventually become the most sustainable option. For others, a different kind of relationship may be possible.
There is no universal answer, and such decisions deserve care, especially when the relationship is emotionally significant.
We do not have to make permanent decisions during moments of acute distress. We can seek support, examine the pattern over time, and consider what arrangements best support our well-being.
Compassion does not require unlimited access to our lives.
We can recognize another person’s humanity while deciding that a particular way of relating is not healthy for us.
Many harmful communication patterns develop in the context of earlier experiences.
People may have grown up in environments where disagreement was unsafe, vulnerability was criticized, or accountability was associated with shame. They may have learned to defend themselves quickly, avoid uncomfortable emotions, or withdraw when conflict feels overwhelming.
Understanding these possibilities can help us approach relationships with greater curiosity.
But we should be careful not to assume that we know why another person behaves as they do. We cannot determine someone’s trauma history or nervous-system state from a message alone.
And even when we understand the experiences that may have shaped a behavior, we still need to consider its impact.
A trauma-informed approach holds both compassion and accountability.
We can recognize that a person may have learned a particular way of responding to conflict without concluding that the behavior is harmless.
We can understand why someone might become defensive while still asking for conversations that do not involve personal attacks.
We can acknowledge someone’s need for space while also recognizing our own need for unresolved concerns to be addressed.
We can remain open to learning about our own behavior without accepting responsibility for everything that happens in a relationship.
This approach moves us away from simplistic judgments and toward a more nuanced understanding of relational dynamics.
It also helps us recognize that healing is not merely about understanding why people behave as they do. It involves developing new ways of responding, respecting boundaries, and participating in relationships more consciously.
Understanding can create an opening for change.
But meaningful change requires willingness and action.
If you are uncertain whether a communication pattern is unhealthy, consider reflecting on the following questions.
When I raise a concern, what happens next?
Is there an attempt to understand the issue, even when we disagree? Or does the conversation consistently shift toward my character, motives, or supposed shortcomings?
Can I express my experience without having to prove my right to have it?
Different perspectives are normal. But do I feel that I can describe my own memories and emotions without being automatically dismissed or discredited?
Can both people take responsibility?
Am I able to acknowledge my mistakes? Is there also room for the other person to reflect on their behavior and its impact?
What happens when I set a boundary?
Can the other person disagree with my boundary while respecting my right to establish it? Or does saying no repeatedly result in intimidation, personal attacks, or pressure to reverse my decision?
Is there a meaningful opportunity for repair?
When conflict occurs, do we eventually return to it and attempt to understand one another? Or does the issue remain unresolved while I feel responsible for restoring contact?
How is this relationship affecting me over time?
Do I feel increasingly able to communicate honestly and remain connected to myself? Or am I becoming more anxious, self-doubting, isolated, or afraid to express my needs?
These questions are not a diagnostic checklist. They are invitations to observe the relationship over time and consider what is happening to your emotional well-being.
If you feel frightened, controlled, threatened, or persistently undermined, consider speaking with a qualified mental health professional or an appropriate support service. You do not need to establish a label for the relationship before seeking help.
You deserve support in understanding your experience and deciding what is right for you.
Healthy communication is not about always agreeing, avoiding discomfort, or finding the perfect words.
It is about creating room for people to express themselves, disagree, take responsibility, and establish boundaries without repeatedly attacking one another’s dignity or autonomy.
Not every hurtful interaction is emotional abuse. Not every withdrawal is punishment. Not every disagreement about the past is gaslighting.
But recurring patterns of humiliation, intimidation, coercion, attacks on credibility, or rejection used to pressure someone into silence deserve to be taken seriously.
We cannot always know another person’s intentions. We may never agree on every detail of our shared history. And we cannot force another person to participate in repair.
But we can pay attention to the impact of the relationship on our lives.
We can examine our own contributions without dismissing our own needs. We can remain open to feedback without accepting every accusation as true. We can recognize another person’s perspective without surrendering our own.
And we can choose boundaries that protect our well-being while leaving room for compassion.
For me, this is part of a larger journey toward integrating spirituality, psychology, and emotional healing into everyday life.
I believe that love is most meaningful when it makes room for the humanity of everyone involved—including ourselves.
We can seek understanding without demanding agreement. We can offer compassion without excusing harmful behavior. We can remain open to connection without making ourselves responsible for carrying the entire relationship.
We do not have to abandon compassion to establish boundaries, and we do not have to abandon ourselves to demonstrate love.
Sometimes, healing begins with a conversation.
Sometimes, it begins with a boundary.
And sometimes, it begins with recognizing that our emotional well-being matters, even when someone we love sees the situation differently.
At Blossoming Heart Wellness, I explore the intersection of spirituality, psychology, neuroscience, and embodied healing to support greater self-understanding, emotional well-being, and healthier relationships.
I’m Allison Batty-Capps, author of The Divine Within: Healing Ourselves to Heal the World. My work brings together trauma-informed perspectives, spiritual exploration, mindfulness, and practical approaches to personal growth.
Through wellness coaching, energy healing, and spiritual mentorship, I support people who want to deepen their connection with themselves, explore their emotional patterns, and integrate spiritual insight into everyday life.
If these reflections resonate with you, I invite you to explore my work at blossomingheartwellness.com.
You can also explore The Divine Within: Healing Ourselves to Heal the World, which brings together spirituality, psychology, neuroscience, and practices for healing and transformation.
My intention is not to tell you what your relationships should look like. It is to offer ideas and practices that may help you approach your experiences with greater curiosity, compassion, and clarity.
May we learn to communicate with honesty, listen without needing to control one another, and build relationships in which everyone’s humanity matters.
With love,
Allison Batty-Capps
Blossoming Heart Wellness
Allison Batty-Capps is a consciousness catalyst, spiritual teacher, and transmitter of Divine Human embodiment. She is a licensed mental health therapist, Reiki Master, Yoga Coach and spiritual channeler. She works at the intersection of psychology, mysticism, shadow alchemy, and God-consciousness, offering teachings that unify the human and the divine.
Her work is not about healing people — it is about awakening them.
Her presence carries a frequency that reminds others of their inherent sovereignty, their inner wisdom, and their direct connection to the Divine.
Through her books, teachings, sessions, and transmissions, Allison guides people into the maturity of spiritual adulthood — where compassion meets boundaries, love meets truth, and the soul meets the body.
She is devoted to helping humanity evolve beyond fear, beyond hierarchy, and beyond old paradigms of spirituality into a new era of embodied consciousness.
Allison lives what she teaches.
Her life reveals what unfolds when a person remembers they are not alone or separate, but a wave formed from the infinite ocean of God’s consciousness.

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