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CHAPTER ONE
“How the Hell Did I Get Here…?”
Let’s rewind to 2020, back to the haze of February. I was recovering from an accident that had turned 2019 into a blur of bed rest, hospital visits, and physio sessions. In essence, my life had been a mix of WTF!, deep breaths, tears, meditation, medications, Oms and Love for about 12 months.
I was broke and eager to start working again, so after a stern talk to my ego, I decided to find a job to help me stand on my feet (literally and metaphorically) while piecing my practice back together before diving again into my healing practice.
Little did I know, the universe had been playing a cosmic pinball game with my life since 2013, with me as the ball bouncing from one misfortune to another. At least that is what looked like from my wounded perspective at the time!
March 2019 was the month the universe decided to pull the plug. And it was right. I was running on borrowed energy, entering the perimenopause stage and I was trying to heal from a traumatic experience. I didn’t take time off to truly heal and nurture myself and so, low and behold, one day BANG!
I was crossing the road, not at a crosswalk, because who doesn’t love living life on the edge? The next thing I remember is lying on a sidewalk, screaming in pain and crying. I was surrounded by a mix of horrified and curious bystanders. A lovely young kid in his school uniform took his mobile and called an ambulance while a lady and a gentleman tried to chat with me (about what, I’ll never know because I was too busy being in agony). The police showed up, probably to arrest me for jaywalking, but I was too busy contemplating my pain to give any coherent answers. Two weeks at St. Vincent’s University Hospital later, 6 months in and out of hospital, after two surgeries and an emotional rollercoaster, it felt like I had pushed through a birthing canal. I was reborn, or at least, that’s how it felt.
Now, here’s where it gets weird. This whole ordeal? It felt like a divine intervention wrapped in a hospital gown. Instead of cursing my luck, I embraced it. I don’t know what cosmic switch flipped inside me, I honestly don’t know! I started to believe that the Divine Mother orchestrated all this chaos to make me let go, burn some bridges, and surrender. From the moment I hit the pavement, I felt enveloped by this transformative Love, seasoned with, yes, physical pain. It felt like the universe was saying, “Sorry for the pain, but here’s some enlightenment on the house.”
Fast forward to February 2020. My husband comes home with the kind of news that only sounds good until you live through it. The company where he works was hiring sales assistants. I applied, got interviewed, and was hired in what felt like a blink of an eye. “What a stroke of luck!” I thought, blissfully unaware of the irony that was to come. Maybe the fact that I was hired so quickly just because my husband works there should have been a sign not to sign that contract….
My job? A checkout cashier. The role was so simple; even with half my brain cells on vacation, I could manage. I was still deep in my spiritual practice, so my new colleagues got the basic “hello” and “how are you,” but nothing more. I wasn’t ready to tell them about my metaphysical adventures, especially not while scanning groceries and chitchatting customers.
Then, the world decided to throw another curveball — a global disease. And let me tell you, nothing exposes the human soul quite like a crisis. Suddenly, my workplace turned into a stage where everyone’s true colours shone through. There was the guy hoarding sanitiser like it was the new currency, the woman who thought layering three masks was the height of fashion while berating those with only one, and the managers who kicked off each day with a sermon on ‘these unprecedented times,’ as if they were narrating a live documentary. I saw people fighting for the last roll of toilet paper and the final pint of bottled milk, acting as if the apocalypse was imminent, yet we all knew the shelves would be restocked within hours.
But here I was, in the midst of it all, realising that my journey from hospital beds to checkout lines was perhaps the universe’s quirky way of teaching me resilience, humility, and the art of smiling through chaos. Each beep of the scanner became a meditation, every “thank you, have a nice day” a mantra, and every awkward conversation with a colleague about the end of the world — well, that was just bonus material for my next spiritual retreat.
So, how the hell did I get here? Through a series of cosmic punches, divine hugs, and a job that’s teaching me more about humanity than any spiritual text ever could. Stay tuned because this story is far from over, and I haven’t even gotten to the part where I accidentally started a cult at work… but that’s for another chapter.
Michela Sborchia
Michela Sborchia © 2025 all rights reserved
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