Annika Fae, Threshold Witch
Guide for women crossing major life thresholds.
The Work I Do
Most women who find me have already done a lot of work on themselves.
They've been in therapy, sometimes for years. They understand their patterns. They've read the right books, done the retreats, had the hard conversations. They are self-aware in ways that most people aren't.
And something still isn't moving.
That's usually because the pattern isn't only living in the mind. It's in the body. In the nervous system. In an energetic structure that got laid down so early, or so deeply, that understanding it doesn't touch it.
That's the layer I work with.
I work with women at the moments when an identity has run its course and something new is trying to emerge — but the old patterns are still running, still shaping what feels possible, still keeping the next version of the life just out of reach.
My work combines intuitive pattern recognition, somatic awareness, and energetic repatterning to support real identity shifts at real depth. From the inside it feels surprisingly logical. From the outside, I've been told it looks a little like magic.
Both things are true.
How I Got Here
I left engineering in my twenties.
Not because I failed at it — I was good at it. I left because I could see, clearly enough to be unsettled by it, where the path was going. A stable, well-compensated, soul-deadening life, and the slow forgetting of everything else I was.
Leaving before the golden handcuffs closed was the first threshold I crossed consciously. It was disorienting and clarifying in equal measure, and I didn't know yet that I was learning, from the inside, what I'd eventually spend my life helping others through.
What followed was not a tidy second act. It was a long, winding, thoroughly embodied education in what it actually takes to change a life from the inside out — Waldorf teaching, nature-connection mentoring, years of somatic and intuitive training, more thresholds than I'd have chosen if I'd been given a choice. I am someone who learns things by doing them: by making things with my hands, being present in a body on the land, paying close attention to where there's flow and where it's stuck.
What I developed through all of it was a particular capacity: recognizing the underlying patterns shaping a life, and knowing how to shift them where they actually live.
My Background
Engineering taught me to find root causes, not patch symptoms, and to think in systems.
Waldorf early childhood education taught me about human development — including the parts of us that are still very young and still very much in charge.
Nature-connection mentoring taught me what it means to be fully alive in a body, in relationship with the living world. That we are always in relationship with everything, whether we're paying attention or not. That aliveness is not a feeling you chase — it's something you come back to.
Somatic and intuitive practices — Feldenkrais, energetic repatterning, decades of intuitive development — trained me to perceive and work with the patterns that live below conscious thought.
Different disciplines. One underlying question across all of them: where is the flow, and where is it stuck?
The rest of it
We live on 40 acres of pinon-juniper forest and sagebrush outside Durango — mostly wild, mostly belonging to the deer, jackrabbits, foxes, coyotes, and prairie dogs who were here first. I have a sit spot under a very old juniper where I go to breathe with the tree and the land and pay attention. The birds are the news reporters out there — the jays and juncos telling you what's moving, what's arrived, what's changed. I've learned a lot about listening from them.
Inside: a pottery wheel in the basement, mugs and bowls I made myself on every shelf. Wool overalls I sewed from a blanket. Willow baskets woven from the creek. I learn things by making them, and I've been making things my whole life.
I dance too — lindy hop, mostly when I travel to Santa Fe or Albuquerque, which is often enough. I tried for years to build a swing dance community in Durango and eventually learned that loving something and being the one who holds it together for everyone else are two very different things. That lesson has made me a better practitioner.
A juvenile raven spent two days with us in the garden last summer, using my head as a landing pad while we worked. He left when he was ready. I think about that a lot.
Who I Work With
Most of the women I work with are capable, competent, and quietly at the end of something.
A career that made sense for twenty years and doesn't anymore. A relationship ending or shifting. Children leaving. A health scare that rearranged everything. A creative or intuitive life that got set aside long ago and refuses to stay quiet.
They are the competent one in their circles — the person others lean on, the one who figures things out. They have done serious self-work. And they have hit a layer that awareness and effort alone aren't touching.
They are not looking for another framework or another coach who will reflect their own intelligence back at them. They want someone who can see the structure of their situation, name what they can't see from inside it, and actually help them cross.
I work with clients locally in Durango, Colorado and remotely.
Substack:
My Life Is A Spell
My Substack is the other side of this work — personal, stranger, and less edited. It's where I write about what it actually looks and feels like to live inside this practice: the synchronicities, the animism, the land relationship, the things that don't fit neatly into a service page. The work I offer clients is the same either way. But if you're curious about the life behind it, take a look.
