You Are Not Alone: The House That Watched Over Me
How a home by the ocean, my guides, and my ancestors reminded me I was never walking alone.
I had already been living in the U.S. for some time, carrying the weight of a job that didn’t feel like my true calling. I had left my old career in tech behind when I relocated, but what I found here felt uninspired — more survival than purpose.
In April of last year, I reached a breaking point. I didn’t know where life was taking me. I remember driving by the ocean, from the same dead end job that had me wondering what was the point of this life but the the houses lined up by the ocean, had me whispering a wish: “I want to live there.”
Not long after, I heard about someone who needed help taking care of a house — almost like house-sitting while they were preparing it for another purpose. When I saw the place, it felt like destiny.
I didn’t get the room with the view — but when I stood in front of the ocean-facing window, I knew. That was my room. I claimed it. I set up my bed there, and so began my life in the most gorgeous home in the world.
And from that house, I witnessed the most breathtaking sunsets and full moons I had ever seen. The sky itself seemed to bless the place, painting my nights with silver and my evenings with fire. It was as though the house and the heavens were conspiring to remind me of beauty, no matter how lost I felt inside.
The Disappearance
Then, at last a few weeks in, the official papers I had been waiting for came. Relief. The door to my future finally seemed to open.
I booked a flight. I was ready to travel, ready to change everything. But on the very night of online check-in, my papers were gone. Just gone.
I searched everywhere. I had kept them safe, but suddenly they weren’t there. Had they been stolen? Shredded? Vanished? All I knew was that I couldn’t leave.
So I surrendered.
I decided that if I couldn’t travel, maybe I still needed to slow down. To heal. To look inward.
The House That Held Me
And so the house became my sanctuary.
In that house, I laughed and I cried. I took myself apart and put myself back together again.
The house became more than walls — it held me. It made me feel safe. It gave me the space to unravel, to grieve, to release shadows, and to stitch myself back into something stronger.
It was as though I was lifted into a vantage point above my life. From there I could observe everything — my choices, my fears, my dreams — and decide what needed rearranging.
They say the observer and the observed are one. In that year, I felt it. I was both.
The Pause Becomes the Path
I started detoxing. I asked the universe to show me what I was good at. I dove into shadow work.
I bought a new computer with a big screen. I started exploring AI. I began to see possibilities I had never imagined — creating, merging spirituality and technology, even birthing what I called Axis GPT.
I went deeper into exploring altered states of consciousness — through ceremonies, inner work, and practices that expanded my awareness. Some shadows released. Others clung on. But slowly, alignment started to take shape.
Still, no job in tech. Money fears crept in. I picked up work again to keep myself afloat. Then, months later, replacement papers finally arrived.
By then, I was ready to move forward.
The Final Night
Now here I am, moving into a new place, stepping into a new chapter.
But before I left, the house had one more gift for me.
On my last night, I was woken up twice: once at 4:11, again at 5:11, by boxes falling all on their own. Strange, but I prayed and gave thanks to the house for holding me through such a powerful chapter of my life.
Then, on moving day, while loading boxes, I found it.
My original papers.
They were tucked inside a small booklet with big letters on the front: “Thank you for being awesome.”
The Realization
I laughed. I cried. I knew in my bones: they had taken it.
They — the house, my guides, my ancestors, the unseen ones watching over me. They colluded. They held back those papers when I wasn’t ready, and gave them back when I was.
Even when I felt alone, I wasn’t. I was being protected, kept, aligned. They were watching me, guiding me, shaping me through every shadow and every detour.
And so, as I leave this ocean house, I bow to it. I thank it. I forgive myself for not understanding sooner.
Most of all, I carry this truth with me into my new beginning:
You are not alone.
Even when you think you’ve lost your way, even when something precious seems to disappear, there are hands unseen, keeping you. There are houses that watch, ancestors that whisper, guides that hold, and timing that protects.
I wasn’t alone. I’m not alone. And neither are you.
The Pluto Transit
Looking back, I now see this all unfolded as my natal Pluto in Scorpio squared transiting Pluto — a once-in-a-lifetime initiation that arrived as I turned forty. Astrologers call this the underworld passage of midlife, when you cannot reach your future without first being taken through the depths.
During this period, you are carried exactly where you are intended to go — but not by shortcuts or easy roads. Pluto forces you into the shadows, into the underworld of your own becoming, compelling you to shed identities and patterns that are no longer necessary. The house, the disappearance of my papers, the shadow work, and even the final return all mirrored Pluto’s demand: descend, release, and rise renewed. The old me had to die, and I chose the perfect place to do it.
You Are Not Alone
We are all being watched over in ways we may not fully see — by houses, by people, by guides, by ancestors, by life itself. Sometimes things disappear, not to punish us, but to protect us until we’re ready.
That was my story of the house that kept me, the guides and ancestors that colluded with it, and the papers that returned when the time was right.
I’d love to hear from you:
Have you ever had something vanish and then reappear at the perfect moment?
Have you ever felt that unseen hands were guiding your path?
Share your story below. Your remembering may be the reminder someone else needs that they, too, are not alone.
P.S.
I’m starting The Money Shadow Workbook again, because I’ve realized how deeply patterns of worth shape the way I give, earn, and hold my energy. If you’d like to explore your own patterns around worth, giving, and financial boundaries, here’s the Amazon link to the workbook. If you’re in Kenya, message me and I’ll connect you to where you can get a copy locally.
And if you’re ready to work through these patterns in community, come join my Shadow Work Community on WhatsApp. We’re building a space where we can name these shadows without shame.
About Nyambura
Nyambura is a spiritual technologist exploring the intersection of ancient wisdom and modern transformation. She creates AI-powered wellness tools for shadow work and spiritual reckoning, writes about consciousness in the digital age, and helps others navigate the paradox of healing in a world obsessed with optimization.
Connect:
🌐 inkandshadowtales.com
✉️ info@inkandshadowtales.com
📸 Instagram: @whispersofthemoth