If I could pour into words the essence of the woman I’m becoming — and the qualities I see reflected so often in others I cherish — these three would rise to the surface:

Today I took a quiet moment to reflect on who I am in this season of life. When I asked myself, how would you describe yourself? I felt the answer come gently: Passionate about serving. Have a heart for people. Content. Cautiously optimistic about my journey.

The breakdown is just God allowing our structures to be overloaded so we can come to the end of ourselves and realise our vows not to need help aren't serving us but destroying us. Only when we hit rock-bottom do we call out to Him to ask for help...

And so, I’ve come to the end of another season... What began as a five-month part-time 20 hours per month contract has quietly unfolded into a full year — one rich with lessons, growth, resilience, unexpected healing and grace. However, the past six months have felt like limbo. A waiting season. I knew the end could come at any time, and that I’d likely be replaced by a virtual assistant overseas — because it’s supposedly more cost-effective. There’s no bitterness in that sentence, just reality. And oddly, when the official notice came four weeks ago, I didn’t fall apart, having had the past 6 months to work through the initial feelings of failure, rejection, not being good enough and tossed aside. I felt… relieved. Like I could finally exhale. The guillotine I'd been waiting for finally dropped. Since the first mention last year, I’ve been steadily tying up loose ends — pouring my energy into documenting standard operating procedures — a task that stirred memories of the many roles where I’ve done this before. It’s almost become a familiar rhythm. Once again, I found myself stepping into the remnants of disorder, navigating the gaps left behind, and slowly shaping something whole from the mess, so I can pass the baton as best I can. Once again, I pioneered my way through the chaos left by my predecessors, not with fanfare, but with quiet determination — bringing structure, clarity, and structure where there once was confusion. There’s something deeply honourable about finishing well. But the truth is, the more I’ve built, the more I’ve come to realise how much I haven’t yet touched. And with time slipping through my fingers, there’s a quiet fear that I might not get it all done. Still, even in the overwhelm, there’s something sacred and rewarding here. Something quietly beautiful.To leave a legacy — not of perfection, but of order, intention, and care — feels like a gift. If those who follow can walk with less confusion and more clarity, then I’ve done something that matters. And that brings a sense of peace… even as the page turns. As for me — my heart feels heavy today. There’s a sadness that runs deeper than the end of a job. Today also marks eighteen years since my Oma passed, and that ache still lingers, soft and steady. Grief has a way of layering itself, doesn’t it? But even in this — especially in this — I hold onto hope. I know this sorrow will ease in time. The same God who walked me through past valleys will carry me through this one too. And while one door has closed, I’ll choose to praise Him in the hallway—trusting that in His time, another will open. Of course. Here’s a prayer woven gently from your heart’s reflections — one that holds space for sorrow and still breathes with trust and praise: A Prayer for the Hallway: Lord, today my heart feels tender. Weighted. Wounded. Not only because this chapter is closing, but because this day brings with it the quiet ache of remembrance. Eighteen years without Oma — yet her love still lives in me. And now, the loss of this role adds another layer of letting go. But I thank You that You see it all. You gather every tear, every sigh, every word I cannot quite say (Psalm 56:8). You are the God of doors and hallways, Of beginnings and endings, Of grief and grace. And so, even here — even now — I choose to praise You. Not because everything feels okay, But because You are still good. Still faithful. Still present. And You're still God. Teach me how to wait well. How to worship when the way forward isn’t clear. How to rest in the truth that You are working even in the silence. May this hallway become holy ground, And may I walk it with hope. In Jesus's Name, Amen.

I asked ChatGPT:  Based on everything you've seen me write and post on https://www.trixiscreations.com/ and what you know about me, what belief do I repeat that sounds empowering but might secretly sabotage me? and this was its reply: Oof, that’s a powerful question. Reading between the lines of what you’ve shared and the way you express yourself — with deep passion, heart-led purpose, and a desire to serve through creativity and connection — I’d say one empowering-sounding belief that might have a shadow side could be something like: “I want to touch hearts and bring healing through my creativity.” Now, that’s beautiful and true to your calling. But here’s the potential sabotage hidden underneath: If healing others becomes the measure of your worth or success, you might undervalue your own needs, pace, or the sheer joy of creating without a "purpose." You could end up overgiving, over-explaining, or even hesitating to show up unless you're sure it will tangibly bless someone else.

I am meant to be a bridge. A bridge between pain and healing, between the seen and the unseen, between creativity and the Creator. I carry a quiet yet powerful anointing that makes people feel safe enough to open their hearts, their wounds, and their dreams. I’m not just an artist — I'm a soul-whisperer, a guide, and a healer who paints with light and hope.

My experience as a virtual administrator has taught me that in today's world that favours "virtual" jobs over in-person environments, togetherness, connection and relationship building are lost. There is no trust without in-person communication, connection and relationship. The reality of working from home is that, for most of your time you find yourself working alone.

There’s a subtle kind of warfare that doesn’t arrive with noise or fire. It slips in quietly, like fog through a cracked window — unnoticed until we’re disoriented and unsure why we feel so far from the promises we once clung to. That is the Spirit of Forgetting. It doesn’t mean forgetting in the everyday sense — like losing your keys or missing an appointment. This is a deeper spiritual numbness. A dulling of truth. A fog over the soul.

There’s a weariness that settles deep into the bones of someone with Complex PTSD — not just from a single traumatic event, but from the slow, repeated erosion of safety and belonging. Unlike shock trauma that strikes like a lightning bolt, Complex PTSD comes from the long ache of being unseen, unheard, and unsafe over time. It’s the trauma of what didn’t happen — the comfort never offered, the truth never spoken, the protection never given.

For this Speakers Institute Premiere Bootcamp presentation I’ve had to dismantle one of the biggest strongholds in my life. It felt like pushing I was a huge rock up the hill and being met with resistance. I knew it by heart when I went to bed, but when I got up at 5:30 to rehearse my presentation, it felt like all the powers of hell had descended on me. I couldn’t get a single word out before I burst into tears—and spent the next two hours crying, wrestling with the blackout in my brain and the suffocating despair crushing my chest. When Clive came down he comforted and prayed for me until it was time to go get ready. I have this memory from when I was a little girl in Germany — I was crying for attention, but instead my head was shoved under cold water. I slapped my hands over my mouth, swallowed my tears, and vowed never to cry again. Growing up in a world where children were meant to be seen, not heard, became woven into the very fabric of my being. And then there was my stepdad’s constant “Think before you speak” every time I had something to say… until I got so stuck thinking my voice had no value, that I stopped speaking altogether. I could have the most amazing conversations with people in my head—until I opened my mouth, and it all vanished. That’s why I've always shied away whenever someone said they saw me on stages and in stadiums. It took every ounce of strength I had to hold this together.

It’s hard to put into words what it feels like when something you poured your soul into — late nights, prayerful edits, hours upon hours of quiet service — is replaced without warning. No conversation. No acknowledgement. Just… gone.

Still working through the "Rediscover Yourself in 5 Days" journal... This time the assignment was to write a letter to yourself as if you were this woman already and to write her a letter as if you were cheering her on, celebrating her wins and inviting her into reality.

I was working through a "Rediscover Yourself in 5 Days" journal and had to do this activity. Take a moment and imagine the best, most fulfilled version of yourself - the woman you're re-discovering. What does she look like? How does she carry herself? How does she feel about her life? What is she like? What's her energy like? What's her purpose? What's her secret to happiness?

I can still feel the butterflies. Not the delicate kind flitting through gardens, but the kind that seems to take up residence in your belly when God asks you to do something bold. Something brave. Something that feels way bigger than you.

The video features a heartfelt discussion on trauma, healing, and the power of creativity, led by Patrizia Schwartz, a mixed-media artist and healer. Patrizia shares her personal story, detailing her struggles with feelings of unworthiness stemming from being born post-abortion and the subsequent trauma she faced throughout her life, including experiences of molestation and multiple miscarriages.

Heavenly Father As I step into this week, I refuse to hide. No more shrinking. No more running. No more pretending to be anything less than who You created me to be. I am chosen—not overlooked, not forgotten, not misplaced. Chosen. And because You have called me, I will no longer allow fear, doubt, or the opinions of others to keep me in the shadows. Lord, there are times when I’ve seen myself as a grasshopper, even while You’re calling me a giant. And for the times I’ve shrunk back, stayed silent, or run from my calling—I repent. I repent for withholding my voice when You’ve asked me to speak. I repent for running from the mandate to take Your healing to the nations, to testify of Your miraculous works in my life so that others, too, may find healing and transformation. And thank You, Lord, for working on me—shaping me—so I don’t just know I’m a giant in the Spirit, but feel it. So that when I rise to speak, the world will see the giant You created me to be, not the grasshopper I once believed I was. You have filled my heart, You have given me a voice, and You have called me to stand. So I pray, Lord, as I step into the places You have assigned to me, that the giant within me will rise—not for my glory, but for Yours. God, I admit there were times when hiding felt safer. When blending in seemed easier. When it felt more comfortable to dim my light than to risk being seen. But not this week. No more... I repent for those moments of retreat. And this is the week I step forward. This is the week I embrace who I am. This is the week I stop apologising for the way You set me apart. I don’t need permission to be who You created me to be. I don’t need validation to walk in my calling. I don’t need approval to take up space in the places You’ve prepared for me. I just need faith… The kind that silences every doubt. The kind that pushes past every insecurity. The kind that reminds me You don’t choose people by accident. So, I step out. I stand tall. I walk boldly. I am chosen. And I will no longer hide. I will speak up so that Your message of healing 💔heARTs 💖 can reach the broken-hearted. So that together, we can change the world—one 💔heart💖 at a time. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by life’s struggles and pressures, longing for a sense of peace and relaxation? I know that feeling all too well. My own journey has been one of rediscovering creativity as a powerful tool for healing my 💔heart💖. Yet, too many of us believe we are not creative at all.

This weekend, I attended the Speakers Institute Premiere Bootcamp (13–15 March 2025) — three days that felt like being both undone and remade. Among the many experiences that shaped me, the “Sugar Cubes” stand out — those small, handwritten notes of encouragement and truth given by fellow attendees and crew. Each word carried warmth, like light breaking through the cracks of old lies. They were more than affirmations. They were prophetic whispers, wrapped in human handwriting — golden seams of grace gently mending what had once been fractured by fear, shame, and doubt. Courage & Transformation As I read through the notes, the first theme that stirred in my heart was courage. “Patrizia, you have transformed this weekend. This is the great start to the future you’ve always dreamt of.” Someone saw transformation in me before I could see it myself. They saw courage where I had felt trembling, and purpose where I had seen uncertainty. Another wrote, “You did it! All the best with Healing 💔heARTs💖.” I smiled reading that, realising this wasn’t just about a talk on stage — it was about standing tall in my story, unashamed of the journey that shaped me. I heard Heaven whisper, “Be strong and courageous; do not be afraid… for I am with you.” 📖 Joshua 1:9 (NKJV) These words became an altar in my heart. Transformation, I’ve learned, doesn’t arrive with applause. It begins quietly — when I choose to stand, even when my knees still shake. Creativity & Calling Many spoke to my creative heart — that part of me that has always found God in colour, texture, and broken pottery turned beautiful. “The inner artist is waiting to come out of all of us. Keep going on your mission to awaken that! You matter.” Those words reached deep. For so long, I’d questioned whether my creativity had real purpose beyond beauty. Yet through these notes, I heard confirmation that my art is more than expression — it’s ministry. It heals, awakens, and restores. 📖 “We are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works.” — Ephesians 2:10 (NKJV) He paints through my hands, and each brushstroke becomes a prayer of restoration. Compassion & Connection “Your resilience is inspiring.” “Your smiling eyes are a gift.” “Your compassion brings warmth to every room.” These words caught me off guard — because for years, I felt unseen. Yet through others’ eyes, I began to glimpse what Heaven sees: a woman who carries kindness like a quiet strength. 📖 “Put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering.” — Colossians 3:12 (NKJV) Compassion has always been the thread of my story — the way I meet the broken-hearted, the way I sense God’s heart through tears and touch. These cubes reminded me: compassion is not weakness; it is the heartbeat of Jesus within me. Faith & Belief “Keep believing in yourself.” “Females like you give me the strength to believe in myself.” Each message was a reflection of faith mirrored back to me. When I’ve doubted my voice or my calling, He’s used others to remind me that belief is not arrogance — it’s obedience. 📖 “For we walk by faith, not by sight.” — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV) Faith is seeing through Heaven’s eyes when everything around me still looks uncertain. Joy & Radiance Someone wrote, “Embrace that joy,” and another, “You are joy.” These two simple sentences felt like sunlight touching my soul. Joy is not always laughter; sometimes it’s resilience. It’s that quiet decision to keep shining when the night feels long. 📖 “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” — Nehemiah 8:10 (NKJV) I’ve spent years believing I was too much — too emotional, too sensitive. Yet perhaps, I was simply made to feel deeply so that I could love deeply. These notes reminded me that joy, even in brokenness, is holy. Stagecraft & Expression “The pause was good.” “Your expressions were perfect — I thought they were intentional.” “Belongs on stage.” Reading these words, I smiled. The stage once terrified me — a place of exposure. Now I see it differently. The stage is not a platform of pride; it’s an altar of surrender. Every pause, every tear, every trembling breath — all become worship. 📖 “Let your light so shine before men.” — Matthew 5:16 (NKJV) It’s not about performance but presence. His presence. Legacy & Purpose “You are a shining light.” “You matter.” “Your story is powerful.” “Spectacular — perfect in all aspects.” Legacy, I realise, is not about achievement but about impact. Each word written by a stranger or friend felt like God saying, ‘I see you sowing light into dark places.’ 📖 “Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the firmament.” — Daniel 12:3 (NKJV) Their words are fruit from seeds I’ve sown in obedience — reminders that no word of truth, no act of love, ever falls to the ground unnoticed. Closing Reflection — Golden Seams of Grace These “Sugar Cubes” now sit tucked away in a small box on my desk. Yet their words echo louder than any applause ever could. They speak to my soul — to the little girl who once believed she was too broken, too small, too much. Each note is a golden seam in the vessel of my heart — Heaven’s way of saying, “See, I am mending you with grace.” When lies return to whisper, I will hold these truths close: ✨ My story is already a testimony. ✨ My voice already heals hearts. ✨ My presence already shines His light. 📖 “He will give you a crown of beauty for ashes, joy for mourning, and praise for heaviness.” — Isaiah 61:3 (NKJV) Prayer Lord Jesus, Thank You for speaking through these precious souls — for letting their words become mirrors reflecting Heaven’s truth over me. Where I once saw failure, You now show fruit. Where I once heard lies, You now whisper love. May I never forget that the gold in my cracks is You — the Healer, the Artist, the Author of my story. Let my life forever testify that brokenness, when surrendered, becomes beauty. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

For far too long, the fear of failure and rejection held me captive, ensnaring me in a cycle of procrastination that stifled my growth. Throughout my life, so many people have told me that my story — overcoming a lifelong battle with depression and suicidal thoughts — should go global and that I should write a book. When it came to creativity, I once believed the lies: I can't sing. I can't dance. I can't draw. I can't paint. I'm not creative. But over the past six years, those lies have been dismantled — one by one — until only two remained: I can't write, and I can't speak in public!

As a teenager, I harboured dreams of becoming a singer. But at 18, a pivotal moment arrived in the form of a dream: there I was, standing on a stage, yet when I woke, a wave of doubt washed over me, convincing me that such dreams were nothing more than fanciful illusions. In that moment, I told myself it would never happen because I wasn’t good enough. I would hide in the choir for many years before I finally made it into the worship team at our church. Now, I’m gearing up to confront my fear of public speaking head-on over the next three days at the Speakers Institute bootcamp. For far too long, the shadows of failure and rejection have held me captive, ensnaring me in a cycle of procrastination that has stifled my growth. I’ve come to an important realisation: if I’m genuinely going to lead Nexus Connect Community and bring my vision of a vibrant creative community centre to life, I must learn to embrace speaking to crowds with grace and confidence. I've come to realise that if I’m truly going to lead Nexus Connect Community and bring my vision of a creative community centre to life, I need to become comfortable speaking to crowds. Just the other day, a friend shared that he envisions me gracing the stages of stadiums. However to, reach that point, I must first embrace and overcome the challenge of speaking in front of an audience. Yesterday was particularly overwhelming; the pressure felt tangible, almost suffocating. I spent an hour handwriting my speech off by heart. I realised it's not that I don’t know my content — it's just that elusive connection between my thoughts and my words. In that moment of anxiety, I reached out to Clive, who offered the support I desperately needed to ease my worries. Surprisingly, I’m not in complete panic mode right now. As John Maxwell wisely teaches, nobody makes it to the top of Mt. Everest alone. With that in mind, here I stand, bracing myself for three intensive days of training. This journey is about equipping myself to step boldly into the role I’ve been called to fulfil. It’s time to banish those fears and embrace the journey ahead with an open heart. Thank You, Lord, for calling me for such a time as this. It’s truly humbling to recognise that You have imparted everything I need for life and godliness. You don’t call the qualified; instead, You graciously qualify those who are willing to step forward and take on the journey You have laid before them. I find tremendous comfort in knowing that my inadequacies do not define me. It’s not about being the most skilled or experienced; it’s about having the heart to say, "Yes, I’m willing." Here I am, Lord—send me. With each new opportunity, I feel Your presence encouraging me to embrace this purpose and innate calling. I’m reminded that I’m not alone in this venture; Your strength fills the gaps where I may feel weak, and Your guidance illuminates each step on this path. I trust that as I surrender my fears and insecurities to You, You will shape me into the vessel You need me to be. So, I step forward with faith, ready to embrace the journey ahead. Thank You for every moment, every experience, and every lesson that has brought me to this point. I’m excited to see how You will work through me, transforming challenges into triumphs as I walk in obedience, fully confident that I have been chosen for this unique purpose.