Debi Richens - The Relationship Phoenix

27/08/2026

Sometimes things need to come apart before they can come together differently.

It's Thursday, which meant making my fortnightly batch of butter.

You whip the cream and keep whipping until eventually it separates.

For a moment, it looks as though you've ruined it.

Except you haven't.

That's the process.

We break eggs to make a cake. We knead dough. We chop, crush, blend and combine ingredients to create something entirely different.

Emotional work can feel like that too.

We're often frightened to open the grief, anger, guilt, hurt and old beliefs because we fear that if we start pulling at them, we'll fall apart.

But the work isn't about breaking you.

It's about gently breaking apart everything that has become tangled together.

I've watched this happening with my client Rachel.

When we began working together, some of the beliefs she carried had been there for around 40 years. She described them as cemented, things she believed she would take to her grave.

So we've separated things.

Grief from guilt.
Responsibility from blame.
What happened to Rachel from what Rachel came to believe about herself because of it.

And slowly her language has changed.

“The blame is not yours.”

“I am worthy of it.”

“They will not take back my power.”

And then came this:
“For the first time since December, I’m actually feeling a bit excited about going forward, about beginning to want to live again, to have an urge to exist.”

That is why this work takes time.

We aren't trying to erase what happened.

We're discovering what still belongs in the person we're becoming, and what we're finally ready to put down.

Perhaps the question isn't, “What if I fall apart?”

Perhaps it's:

“What might become possible if I finally allow myself to change?”

If you're ready to explore that for yourself, message me REBUILD. ❣

Client name shared with permission.
Image my own, for some colour ☺️

25/08/2026

Sometimes friendship begins in the most unlikely places.

This was sent to me today by someone I affectionately call the 2nd Mrs R.

And I smiled.

Because if you knew where our relationship began, you might wonder how on earth we ever arrived here.

For much of the nine years she was married to my ex-husband, Janet bullied me through texts and messages.

She believed she was defending her family.

And that sentence matters.

Because Janet knew the version of me that had been described to her by other people.

She had been told stories about who I was, what I had done, what my motives were and why certain things had happened.

And because she loved the people telling those stories, she believed them.

Why wouldn't she?

Except, occasionally, something didn't quite add up.

She would question something she had been told about me and be shot down in flames.

So, gradually, she learnt not to question.

There were situations deliberately created to put us against one another, including an extraordinary debacle over a wedding dress that neither of us understood for what it was at the time.

Two women positioned on opposite sides.

Each believing something about the other.

Neither having had an honest conversation.

Then, in May 2016, a message arrived from Janet.

My immediate emotional reaction was:

"What does she want now?"

After everything that had happened between us, I think that was understandable.

But almost immediately something else kicked in.

Something in me said:

There's something seriously wrong here.

So I picked up the phone.

On the other end was a terrified woman.

For almost two hours she talked, cried and begged me to forgive her.

And within minutes, I had.

Not because those nine years suddenly hadn't happened.

Not because the things she had said and done didn't matter.

But because, as she began telling me what she had been told about me, I finally understood the world she had been living in.

And she began to understand mine.

That conversation changed everything.

We discovered that the enemy each of us had been encouraged to see in the other simply wasn't there.

Underneath were two women who had both experienced enormous hurt.

Two women who had believed very different versions of the same family story.

Two women who, eventually, had the courage to talk to each other.

And today, almost unbelievably, we are friends.

Real friends.

We've travelled alongside one another through some extraordinarily difficult years since that telephone call.

So when Janet sent me this today and wrote:

"We have travelled the same road in so many ways..."

it landed deeply.

Because this is what can happen when we become willing to question the stories we have inherited about another human being.

It doesn't mean pretending harm didn't happen.

It doesn't mean abandoning accountability.

And it certainly doesn't mean every fractured relationship can, or should, be repaired.

It means becoming curious enough to ask:

What do I actually know?

What have I experienced for myself?

And what do I believe because somebody I loved and trusted told me it was true?

Those can be uncomfortable questions.

They can also change lives.

Janet and I cannot give those lost years back to one another.

But we stopped allowing somebody else's story to write the years that came afterwards.

And perhaps that is why the words she sent me today mean so much.

We were once two women placed on opposite sides of a story.

Today, we stand beside one another.

And that, to me, is what reclamation can look like. ❣

Image posted with permission 🙏🏼

24/08/2026

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱... ❤️

I was tagged in a post yesterday about a business event I'm attending in October, and one of my clients left this comment underneath.

I didn't ask her to write it. I didn't know it was coming.

And perhaps that's why it means so much.

There is one sentence in particular that has stayed with me:

“I'𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗲'𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱.”

That, right there, is the work.

My role isn't to make somebody dependent upon me, or to become the person they need in order to cope with their life.

It's to walk alongside them while they begin to discover that things they once believed were fixed can change. To help them understand themselves differently, loosen what they have carried for far too long, and gradually recognise their own capacity to meet life differently.

Sometimes that work is deep and emotional. Sometimes we're laughing. Sometimes we're exploring something that appears completely unrelated, until suddenly it isn't.

And sometimes the most important shift happens in a conversation that doesn't look or feel like “therapy” at all.

My client wrote:

“H𝗮𝗹𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗲 𝗜'𝗺 𝗽𝘂𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝗼 𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴.”

I love that, because change doesn't always announce itself while it's happening.

Sometimes you only recognise it when something that would once have floored you... doesn't.

I know the journey behind these words, which makes reading them particularly poignant.

There is still work ahead. Healing isn't a performance with a tidy finish line.

But when someone who once believed certain thoughts and behaviours would “d𝗶𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲” begins imagining a life beyond our work together, something very important has changed.

And that is exactly where I want the people I work with to stand eventually.

Not needing me.

𝗞𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀. 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝘀𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲𝘀. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁. ❤️

21/08/2026

Life isn't perfect... and neither are my sourdough wraps.

But by the time they've met the butter bean hummus, diced beetroot and courgette, olive oil and herbs, they'll be nourishing, satisfying and ready for lunch.

Now, think about those first three words again.

Life isn't perfect.

And waiting for everything around you to become perfect before you start looking after yourself can keep you stuck for a very long time.

I made these wraps this morning because I know I will need nourishing later.

There is preparation involved.

And emotional health is no different.

If you are waiting for an important relationship to sort itself out before you allow yourself to feel better, what happens if it doesn't?

If you are waiting for your child to reconnect...

For an ex-partner to stop hurting you from a distance...

For somebody to apologise...

For the family to finally understand your side...

For the grief to simply disappear with time...

You are handing responsibility for how you feel to circumstances, and people, you cannot control.

Meanwhile, the grief, anger, sadness, hurt, guilt and stress you are carrying don't simply sit quietly in the background.

They influence how you sleep.

How you respond.

How you make decisions.

How you relate to other people.

And, importantly, how you relate to yourself.

You don't prepare for a different life by waiting for somebody else to change.

You prepare by nourishing the person who will be living it.

Emotionally.
Physically.
Mentally.

By understanding what you are carrying.

By clearing out what no longer belongs in your emotional cupboards.

By reconnecting with your values and allowing them to guide the choices you can make today.

Because if that relationship does change one day, you want to meet that moment as the person you have become, not still carrying every painful moment that brought you there.

And if it doesn't change?

You still have a life to live.

Perhaps the question isn't, "When will things change?"

Perhaps it's...

"What am I preparing today for the life I want to be living tomorrow?"

27/04/2026

27/04/2026

There’s a moment most people don’t talk about.

It doesn’t arrive loudly.
It doesn’t demand your attention.

It’s quieter than that.

A thought that doesn’t quite fit.
A feeling you can’t fully explain.
A question that lingers longer than it used to.

“Is this the full story?”

And just as quickly as it appears…
it’s often pushed away.

Because questioning what you were given
can feel like betraying the person who gave it to you.

So you carry on.

You stay where you are.

But that feeling?

It doesn’t disappear.

It waits.

And sometimes… life brings you to a point
where you can’t ignore it anymore.

Not because someone tells you to.
Not because you’re forced to.

But because something in you is ready to look again.

And this is the part that matters.

It is not too late.

Not to understand more.
Not to see things differently.
Not to consider what connection might look like… on your terms.

Not rushed.
Not forced.
Not all at once.

Just… considered.

I’ve just recorded a conversation that speaks into this space.

Not to tell you what to do.
Not to push you in any direction.

But to offer something many people never had:

A voice from inside the experience.

If something in you has been quietly questioning…
you might want to listen.

26/04/2026

You didn’t question it then.

Why would you?

You were young.
You trusted what you were told.
You built your understanding of the world through the people closest to you.

So when you were given a version of someone…
you accepted it.

Not because you were naive.
Because you were human.

Children do not sit back and analyse narratives.
They absorb them.
They live inside them.

And by the time you were old enough to think for yourself…
that version had already taken root.

It felt like truth.

Even now, part of you may still feel loyal to it.

And part of you may be quietly wondering if there is more.

Both of those things can exist at the same time.

And there is something else that is not often spoken about.

Sometimes the parent you were taught to see in a certain way…
was once a child navigating something similar themselves.

Sometimes what you were given…
was not created in that moment.

It was carried forward.

Passed on without awareness.
Without language.
Without understanding.

That does not make it right.

But it does make it human.

And it means the story may be more complex than you were first told.

10/03/2026

What if the greatest shift is not in changing your circumstances overnight, but in no longer allowing them to define you?

In my conversation with Leah Crowfoot - Cashflow Strategist & Mindset Coach, we talked about alienation, grief, resilience, and the moment a person begins to see that they are more than the pain they have lived through.

https://youtube.com/shorts/nPICooKIWP0?si=srLREOy_r8ra-6oF

So many people remain emotionally trapped, not because they want to be, but because what they are carrying has never been fully understood. Awareness changes that. Naming it changes that. Support changes that.

This conversation is about stepping out of silence, reconnecting with your own truth, and realising that healing begins when you stop handing your whole identity over to what happened.

Thank you, Leah, for such a real and thoughtful conversation.

Have you ever experienced the moment when you realised you were more than what had happened to you?

Most of us avoid standing out, fearing judgment or rejection. But what if embracing what makes you different is the key to true confidence and authentic powe...

17/02/2026

I read something this week that stirred a lot of thought.

It spoke about how parents are now being judged by standards that simply did not exist when they were raising their children. As though they were supposed to be therapists, trauma specialists and perfect emotional mirrors, all while paying the bills and keeping life moving.

The original piece focused on mothers.

But I see fathers too. Parents who, at times, felt like they were parenting alone inside relationships that were strained or quietly unravelling. Holding children steady while feeling anything but steady themselves.

Here is the part we do not talk about enough.

There is a difference between abuse and imperfection.

There is a difference between acknowledging someone’s feelings and accepting every narrative built around those feelings.

Feelings are real. They matter.
But feelings are not always the full story.

Many parents were not trying to cause harm. They were trying to survive. Trying to provide. Trying to do better than what had been done to them.

If you are navigating family alienation or estrangement, this conversation becomes even more complex. Adult language. Firm labels. Little dialogue.

So I am curious.

What do we owe our children?
What do we owe ourselves?
And where is the line between responsibility and unrealistic expectation?

If this resonates and you want a space where these conversations are held with depth rather than outrage, I host a community called After the Silence.

But for now, I would genuinely value your thoughts here. Let us have a grown-up conversation.

07/02/2026

I want to pause and say this.

Over the past week, an extraordinary group of people have stepped into the 'Your Compass Reset - A Values Challenge', in my new group 'After the Silence', with curiosity, courage, and care. Men and women who were willing to slow down, question gently, and look honestly at what matters to them.

The reflections have been thoughtful.
The workbooks have been met with tenderness.
The space has felt grounded, safe, and alive.

Tomorrow, we come together for the final Masterclass, and I feel genuinely excited to hold that space.

If you’ve ever had a sense that your life looks one way on the outside, but feels very different on the inside…
If you’ve been navigating grief, alienation, estrangement, or a quiet loss of direction…
This work matters.

Watching people reconnect with their values, without judgment or pressure, has been deeply moving.

Whatever tomorrow brings, this has already been worth it.

And if you’re reading this and feeling a quiet nudge, trust that.
Sometimes the right work finds us at exactly the right moment.

Warmly,
Debi