From Image to Essence: What My Fall from Grace Taught Me

Author: Bianca Moeschinger
May 2025

In my last blog, I spoke about a fall from grace that led me onto this path of self-development. What I didn’t name then was that my fall wasn’t spiritual, emotional, or relational.

It was financial.

My financial collapse shattered everything I thought I was. I had built an identity around success, capability, control. My self-worth was wrapped up in money, in the image of a successful woman who managed her family, her household, her business, and her life with power and clarity.

Money was more than just currency—it was survival, choice, freedom, power. Without it, I felt like I was nothing. I became the very thing I had judged in others: someone without status, without security, without certainty. It brought me to my knees.

What I lost wasn’t just a house, a farm, or a lifestyle. I lost the image of myself. And in that loss, I found something far more valuable: my humanity.

Sixteen years have passed since that time. Years of surviving, scraping, reimagining, reinventing. Years of waking up and wondering how I was going to get through the day, how I would support my two children, how I would keep the torch burning when it felt like the fire had gone out.

I had to become more than just a provider. I had to become a guide, a space-holder, a constant presence. My children saw me do what many wouldn’t believe possible. They grew up resilient, wise, compassionate. They carry a depth I never could have planned for—a soulfulness shaped not by luxury, but by love and lived experience.

In those years, I learned to capitalise on everything I had—my ideas, my voice, my hands, my beauty, my intelligence. I exchanged wisdom for survival. I poured my soul into service, into presence, into helping others navigate what I was barely surviving myself. And in doing so, I survived.

Looking back, I see now that I’ve become rich in a way that defies numbers. My wealth is not in the bank—it’s in my awareness. My emotional intelligence. My compassion. My soul.

These days, my offering is not a performance. It is my presence. My lived experience. My stillness. My words. Not everyone wants that, and that’s okay. Even my children don’t always want it. Sometimes I’m too much. Too intense. Too knowing. And sometimes, I am just enough. Silent. Present. Nothing to give but breath and warmth.

This morning I sat with my eldest daughter, sipping coffee while her wisdom flowed like water. I didn’t need to speak. I didn’t need to teach. I simply let myself be nourished by her. I joked about doing a podcast together, and in that moment, I realised something:

Some things are not meant to be shared.

Some conversations are sacred. Mothers and daughters need space to speak without performance or publication. Just like I hold space for my clients in the privacy of session, I also hold space for my family in the sacred quiet of daily life.

So I’ve decided to continue doing these short podcasts and blogs, not as a product, but as a practice. A way of staying connected, offering a sprinkle of thought, a whisper of wisdom, for anyone who needs it.

My fall from grace stripped away the image. What remains is essence. And that—I’m finally learning—is more than enough.

And in all of that rebuilding, something else arrived quietly—love. A life partner who is steady and strong like a tree. He gave me the space to learn how to feel truly supported, to feel rich in ways that had nothing to do with money. With him, I learnt that I didn’t have to perform to receive love and care. I could just be.

Together, we birthed our third child—a soul so wise and articulate that her words floor me. There is something extraordinary in her. I believe the longer our eggs stay within us, the more they mature and carry the depth of the wisdom we’ve cultivated. Her presence is living proof of that.

Her light, her voice, her knowing—they land.

And so I offer this: my story, my becoming, and a reminder that even when it feels like everything is lost, what we truly are—our essence—remains, quietly waiting to be claimed.

To listen to this blog on my podcast - https://underthesilencebybiancamoeschinger.buzzsprout.com

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