I've walked through addiction. I’ve been homeless, spent time in foster homes and women’s shelters. Trauma that lived in my body long before I had language for it. Sexual abuse that I carried in silence for years before I understood it wasn't mine to carry anymore. I am a single mother to 3 kids — raising them while raising myself back from the ground up, and a coffee enema as my reality check.

My body kept score the whole time. Eczema. ADHD. Chronic fatigue that made getting off the couch feel like a marathon. Depression with its hooks in deep. A whole laundry list of "dis-ease" that Western medicine wanted to name, medicate, and manage — but never once asked why.

So I cleansed and detoxed my way through all of it. Not as a quick fix — as a devotion. A daily returning to my body, layer by layer, pathway by pathway. And somewhere in that process, I didn't just heal. I found a completely new relationship with my body, and a new language for what healing actually means.

And it didn't stop with me. My kids watched me do this work — the cleansing, the crying, the coming back to life in real time. So I started healing with them, not just in front of them. Watching my own children come back into their bodies, their nervous systems, their aliveness — that's some of the most sacred work I've ever done. More sacred than any session I've held for a client.

I don't share this for sympathy. I share it because it's the whole reason I don't do fluff, fear-based wellness, or one-size-fits-all protocols. I know survival mode — in the nervous system, in the body, in the bank account, in a house full of kids who need you to hold it together when you're barely holding yourself. I know what it's like to lose yourself completely and find your way back one open pathway at a time.

Every terrain I work in a client's body, I'm still working my own. This practice wasn't built on a pedestal. It was built on the floor of my bathroom in the middle of the night, more than once — and on my kids' bedroom floors, healing alongside them. And I kept getting back up. Every time.

That's the devotion. That's why I teach it as one. That's what "coming back to life" actually means here.