Lessons On The Other Side of Vertigo

It’s been a while since I’ve dropped into your inbox. More than two months.
Not because I forgot… but because my body asked me to stop.

On September 7th, the day of the last eclipse I woke up in the middle of the night to the room spinning and having an intense vertigo experience. The first few days were the worst of it and thank goodness for my beautiful children who took care of me that first week. This was one of the blessings that came from vertigo, seeing my kids step up and without any hesitation cooked, cleaned and took care of everything for one week. I slowly got better, even if it was at a snail’s pace. The first couple of weeks I was a permanent fixture on my sofa, it was challenging and very unsettling to come to a complete stop. I was suddenly dropped into a deeper practice of surrender.

In those first few weeks I didn’t know how vertigo was taking me through a different kind of alignment — one where the only direction available is inward.

Learning to be still.

As the first few weeks passed, I found myself doing little else but resting. I spent long, quiet moments sitting in the park — feet on the grass, feeling the beautiful September weather — letting the world move around me while my own world felt unsteady.

There was a point when I realized I had to let go of my mind’s constant urge to figure it out… the spiralling “why is this happening” loop that only tightened the discomfort. Instead, something deeper kept whispering:

Your only job right now is to rest.
Your only job is to surrender.

And honestly, I didn’t have much of a choice — I was physically unbalanced and felt it every single day. So I stopped fighting what my body was asking for. I let myself be held by the stillness, by the slowness, by the uncertainty.

I surrendered because resistance was no longer an option. And in that surrender, something opened.

Rest is not an interruption.

This rest felt like an initiation.

1. Surrender is a practice, not a concept.

We talk about surrender like it’s poetic and effortless. In reality, it’s raw and uncomfortable.
To surrender means letting go of the idea that you’re the one holding everything together.
To trust that we don’t know what’s next.
To allow things to fall apart and reorganize without forcing them into place.

In so many of my client sessions, surrender comes up as a theme. And while we can talk about it, analyze it, and try to mentally understand it, I’ve learned that surrender is something you only truly grasp through experience. It’s not a concept the mind can hold — it’s an embodied opening, a letting-go that happens in the body and in the heart.

Surrender teaches you in sensations, not sentences.
In softening, not striving.
In receiving, not reaching.

And every time I think I’ve mastered it, life shows me there is always a deeper layer — more letting go, more trust, more space to fall into.

2. Healing isn’t convenient

Vertigo showed up exactly when I didn’t want it.
But it slowed me down when I would not have slowed myself down.
It forced me into deep rest, deeper than I’ve allowed in years.

It reminded me that the nervous system speaks in sensation.
And mine was saying: “Stop. Lay down. Let me recalibrate.”

3. Rest is its own expansion.

It’s easy to celebrate breakthroughs, manifestations, and momentum.
But we forget the magic of the void — the in-between space where nothing seems to be happening but everything is reorganizing.

This time reminded me:

Rest isn’t passive.
Rest is portal into something new.

It’s the place where identity shifts, where new desires whisper in, where clarity finally catches up to you.

4. Your worth is not measured by output.

The interesting thing about vertigo, you have no choice but to stop everything. In our busy modern lives, stopping seems impossible.

Even though I teach self-compassion, and nervous-system-led manifestation… there was still a part of me resisting to be “unproductive.”

Being on the couch for weeks, doing nothing, brought this truth up to the surface:

Your worth does not decrease when you pause.
Your value doesn’t fade when you’re quiet.
Your purpose doesn’t disappear because you need to lie flat and breathe.

If anything, these past two months deepened my presence and expanded my capacity to serve.

What I’m Emerging With

I’m coming back slower, softer, and more intentional.

The space that was created for rest allowed me to deepen some of my personal practices.

• meditating more frequently

• morning writing practice

• more stillness in the in between spaces

I’m letting my business be built from nourishment, not pressure.
And I’m trusting that the people I’m meant to serve will always feel me — even when I’m quiet for a while.

If you’re in a season of stillness, sickness, uncertainty, or recalibration… I hope my experience reminds you:

✨ You’re not falling behind.
✨ Your body is never working against you.
✨ Rest is part of your embodiment.
✨ Surrender provides possibilities your effort can’t.

I’m here with you.
Not from a place of perfection — but from a place of truth.

Thank you for being here.

With love,
Sylvie

p.s. I am currently on a long break from Instagram. Through this experience I deleted the app from my phone. I’m not exactly sure when I will be back. For now, my newsletter is the way to stay up to date with my offerings. Please feel free to email me with any questions or inquiries.