Hey Beauty, I'm Indrani.
I am a transformational coach & Manifesting Maven. I help women just like you design a life they are Obsessed with.
Some people may think that it was easy for me. But it is quite the opposite. I share this with you to inspire you of the limitless possibilities we can choose to step into.
I’d passed through that doorway more than a thousand times, always rushing in to
seek out the darkness of my closet. I was desperate to shut the world out, but the
sounds of my father screaming and glass shattering penetrated every wall of our
house, along with every fiber of my 8-year- old body. This was a regular
occurrence, but I never really got used to it. Sobbing to myself, I dreamed of a
different life where nobody yelled and where my mother’s steady flow of tears
wasn’t a fixture in my world. The ominous darkness of my closet didn’t even scare
me because I’d become so accustomed to a black cloud hovering over my life.
Suddenly, my house turned eerily silent. I left the sanctity of my closet and quietly
made my way downstairs. The grotesque sight of spatters of red covering the floor
sent shudders down my spine. My heart sank as my mind raced, thinking my dad
killed my mom.
The smell of Italian food jolted me, making me realize that it wasn’t blood, just
jars of pasta sauce my dad had thrown in the midst of my parents’ latest battle. But
it hadn’t been a battle of equals-- just my dad once again using my mom as a
punching bag. My mom was so talented and artistic, making beautiful vases that
my dad habitually smashed against our walls and floors. She had nowhere to go,
with no education or means of supporting my brothers and me by herself. So she
stayed in a marriage where she was the target of my dad’s perpetual bouts of rage
until calls from our neighbors led to the police knocking on our door. Many a night
was spent in my closet, shrouded by darkness. I seesawed between crying my eyes
out and visualizing the loving family I’d have someday when I grew up and moved
out of the war zone that was my childhood home.
My dad’s tyranny extended beyond my mom. His parenting methods rivaled
certain torture tactics in third world prisons. Precluding me from sleeping or eating
was one of his favorite forms of punishment. My anxiety level soared, I developed
a stutter, and I wasn’t allowed to form any kind of meaningful friendships, so I
never fit in at school. I tried so hard to pretend to be happy, but no one knew what
truly went on in my home.
I’d passed through that doorway more than a thousand times. Years had gone by
since I was a helpless little girl in my closet. In the entryway of the mansion I’d
shared with my husband and daughter, the mirror seemed to assault me, even
though it hadn’t moved, it merely reflected. I didn’t recognize the stranger looking
back at me. It wasn’t just my appearance; my soul seemed absent, my eyes were
lifeless and empty. I’d spent years trying so hard to attain the perfection my parents
demanded of me. My desperation to be loved led me to a life where I was eager to
be what everyone expected me to be. Obsessed with trying to be the ideal wife and
mother, I didn’t think my own feelings mattered. I traded in the prison of my
childhood home for this gilded cage that had become my new reality.
I’d spent that day self-medicating with retail therapy, walking into Nordstrom
empty-handed and walking out with bags of stuff I didn’t want or need. I’d passed
through that doorway more than a thousand times, trying so hard to distract myself
from my misery by giving my credit cards a workout. But the one thing I couldn’t
buy was my missing spirit that I’d allowed to waste away all those years. The
mirror didn’t lie, instead, it brought me to my knees, sending me tumbling into a
downward spiral that ended my marriage and forced me far out of my comfort
zone, headlong into a lengthy date with depression.
The joyful, bright feel to the room enveloped me. I looked over toward the
doorway; I must have passed through it more than a thousand times. I could hear
my children’s laughter in the next room, my husband horsing around with them as
usual. I thought about those years spent hiding in my closet, visualizing the loving
family I wanted to have. After hitting rock bottom and ending my first marriage, I
made the decision to change the one thing I had the power to change-- myself. I
worked on my mindset and manifested a loving husband, a happy home, and I
welcomed another beautiful daughter into the world. After years of living a daily
battle, I finally created my effortless life. But it takes effort to become effortless-- I
had to put in the work.
There’s something called the “Doorway Effect,” a concept that claims that going
through doorways makes us forget, but the truth is that objects in the rearview
mirror tend to appear closer than they actually are. My sad, lonely past propelled
me forward, through every doorway until I found my happy place. My brother
turned to drinking to cope with our childhood, but I was determined to get my
fairytale ending. Some say it’s a miracle that I got here, but it really just came
down to mindset, steely determination, and believing that I was worthy no matter
how many times people told me otherwise. I went from being a scared, stuttering,
outcast child to becoming a thriving, beautiful, vibrant woman.
If you’re ready to walk through that doorway, I can show you how you too can live
an effortless life, a life that inspires you and others, a life you thought only existed
in fantasy books. I’m living proof that you can live your dream life, it’s a path I
know well, I’ve been through it more than a thousand times. Are you ready to walk
through that door with me?
Indrani Phillips, Mindset and Business Coach
If you are interested in 1:1 mentorships, you can set up a clarity call here to ensure it is an aligned fit.
Sending You Love, Light & Oodles of Positive Vibes!