How i found my breath again

Aug 4
2 min read

There are certain seasons in life that change you forever.

For me, it began as I was navigating life as a single parent, in my late 20's, after years of surviving domestic violence. Just when I thought I was starting to find a bit of balance, the ground was pulled out from under me again — my mum, my best friend, my biggest supporter, was diagnosed with throat cancer. By the time they found it, she was given only months to live.

I had no time to process it.

I was looking after my mum , taking her to hospital, sitting with her through treatments, all while raising two beautiful girls on my own. My anxiety reached an all-time high. I was chain-smoking just to stay upright, even while watching my mum, who now had a tracheotomy , lose her voice, her strength, and eventually her life.

And still, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe . I couldn’t feel.

There was no space to fall apart, not yet.

Months passed, and I began breaking out in hives all over my body. I was exhausted, on edge, running on no sleep, living in survival mode. Doctor after doctor couldn’t figure it out, until one finally said, “It’s the stress. It’s the grief.”

And they were right.

Because by then, I had lost my mother…

That’s when the spiral truly began. I was heartbroken, numb, and completely untethered from myself. I didn’t recognise the person I’d become.

But somewhere in that darkness, a small part of me whispered,

“There has to be more than this.”

I realised I had to change , not just for me, but for the people I love. And maybe, if I could find something, even one small thing, that helped me breathe again… maybe I could offer that to someone else, too. Maybe I could turn all of this pain into purpose.

That’s where Chalumu was born.

Not from perfection.

Not from wellness trends.

But from survival. From grief. From a deep, aching need to pause and just breathe.

The necklace I created was my anchor, i carefully designed it with snake print, a personal favourite of my mothers, something I could reach for when I felt a craving, or panic , or grief creeping in. It helped me breathe slower. It reminded me I was still here.