Why I Chose to Be Wilde: Coaching, Angelology, and the Courage to Follow My Path

By Barbara Wilde

Barbara Wilde by Lucia Rea Photography

I chose to be Wilde because I couldn’t choose to be silent anymore.

There comes a moment in life—often disguised as a breakdown, a heartbreak, or a sudden sense of irrelevance—when we are called to return to who we truly are. For me, that moment came after years of hiding my pain behind a mask of resilience. It took everything falling apart for me to begin putting myself back together—not as I had been told to be, but as I was meant to be.

My real name is Barbara Mancini. But when I decided to step into the world as a coach, a writer, and a guide, I chose the name Wilde—not just as a tribute to Oscar Wilde, but as a declaration of freedom. Wilde, because I wanted to reclaim my wild nature. Wilde, because I wanted to stop apologising for being different. Wilde, because I wanted to turn the pain I’d survived into a light I could offer others.

The choice to become a coach was never just a career decision. It was a spiritual awakening. I had spent my life trying to make sense of abandonment, abuse, loss, and longing. I had played every role society handed me: daughter, mother, wife, provider. But none of them explained the deep ache I carried inside—the ache of someone who knew she was meant for something else, but had no idea how to get there.

I found my way through books, dreams, and the kind of silence that only comes when life forces you to listen. I read Sibaldi, and for the first time, I felt seen by someone who had never met me. Through his teachings on angelology, I discovered that there are intelligences—forces of love, creativity, and courage—that are always guiding us. I had never heard anyone describe the invisible so precisely. It wasn’t religion. It was recognition.

Angelology gave me a language for the mysteries I had felt my entire life. It showed me that we are born with spiritual allies, each linked to a precise energy, a mission, a rhythm. Understanding these energies didn’t give me easy answers. But it gave me permission—to feel, to question, to dare.

As I began to study and apply these ideas, I found resonance in other thinkers who had shaped the world of coaching and transformation. Robert Dilts helped me map out the internal architecture of belief and identity. From Sir John Whitmore I learned how coaching could become a sacred conversation—a place where truth meets possibility. Gregory Bateson illuminated the interconnectedness of all systems, reminding me that no change happens in isolation. Louise Hay taught me the healing power of words, while Eckhart Tolle showed me how presence could transform pain into peace.

And then there was Sibaldi, always there, whispering between the lines of every page: Go further. Don’t settle. Speak with your soul.

I had to learn that I was born to be different, and that my difference was not a defect—it was a direction. My life had not been easy, but it had been exact. Every wound became a window. Every loss pointed me inward. The more I dared to tell the truth about who I was, the more others found the courage to do the same.

This is what I now offer as a coach—not a method, but a movement. A way of being that embraces complexity, honours pain, and believes in magic. My work is not about fixing people. It is about helping them remember. Remember their power. Their longing. Their calling.

Choosing the name Wilde was my way of saying: I am no longer hiding. I am here, whole and human and holy. And I am not afraid to be seen.

If you are reading this and feel something stir inside you, know that it is not by chance. It is your soul, recognising itself in these words. Maybe it’s time you chose to be Wilde, too.

by Barbara Wilde