My Life

My living room floor is scattered with plastic farm animals and Bluey toys. Didn't I just pick those up?

I don't remember the last time I showered, but I sure would like one. Alone. With the door closed. Maybe some music — or even better, silence.

I have no idea what we're having for dinner, but I know two out of three kids won't eat it and will probably have Uncrustables instead. As I'm typing this I have three loads of laundry to fold, another to wash, a toilet to scrub, and at some point I want to sit down with my kids and actually be present with them. And this is just my home life.

At work I have a pile of emails and phone calls to return, protocols to write, and assessments to complete. Those are all sitting on my mind even when I'm not at work.

These are all things that would have kept me stuck in my loop.

Now it's just life. Unrelenting beautiful, unhinged life.

The Darkest Season

I never thought I was allowed to not be okay. I was so busy taking care of everyone around me, I don't think anyone noticed that I desperately needed support too. So I kept carrying everyone, kept pushing through my discomfort within my own body.

I had to sleep with the TV on so that I didn't have to sit with my own thoughts waiting to point out and analyze anything that went wrong that day, or 10 years ago. I still have a 3rd grade memory that plays every now and then from when I said suc-sex-ful instead of successful and all the class laughed. It doesn't need to be recent for my mind to remind me.

I eventually reached a point where I didn't want to live like this, a stranger in my own body, fearing anything that could go wrong, and what would happen if I couldn't keep everything going, if I continued to be everything for everyone else and no one to myself. I was afraid I would disappear without ever knowing who I am. So I started researching ways to try to fix this on my own. And as a nurse I had more knowledge about the body and brain than others, plus access to research and professionals daily.

I tried everything. Breathing exercises, nervous system tools, grounding techniques, cold water, meditation. Short ones, long ones, guided, silent. Before the moment, during, after.

And one by one, each thing failed me.

Here's the thing about trying well-researched, scientifically-backed tools and having none of them work — it doesn't make you think maybe these aren't right for me. It makes you think there must be something wrong with me specifically.

So I added a new layer of shame quietly on top of everything else, and kept going.

Then I found outside help. I scheduled with a therapist who specialized in mind body connection.

She led me through a visualization where I discovered a box and the goal was to open the box just a little so we could begin unpacking past traumas that could be influencing my present.

I was never someone comfortable with being vulnerable, and in this moment the floodgates opened as if all the trauma I had carefully packed away released all at once. I started bawling, talking about abandonment... And then the session ended. I never went back. In fact I slammed the lid on that box wrapped a chain around it, and have not touched it again.

I wasn't ready to face my trauma then. So I failed at healing too.

And it was the best thing I ever failed at.

The Moment Everything Changed.

One morning my daughter had a bad night. I hadn't slept. I had to go to a job I had grown to hate. From the moment I opened my eyes I was already unraveling — and I knew it and I still couldn't stop.

Everything was wrong and nothing was wrong and I was coming apart over a coffee mug.

And for the first time I slowed down just enough to hear her. Not my daughter. Not my husband. The voice inside my own head.

You are a monster for not picking up your daughter. You are the worst mother. You are completely out of control over a coffee mug. Why are you like this. Why are you broken.

She had been there all along. While I was trying the breathing exercises, she was whispering this isn't going to work for someone like you. She was not an intruder. She was a tenant who had been there so long I had stopped noticing the rent she was charging.

I didn't try to change her. I just noticed and stayed and listened. And that was the whole thing.

Why I'm Here

You're Not Alone

I lost so much time stuck in my own Rupture Loop, convinced there was no way out.

You're Not Failing

I'm not here because I figured it all out. I'm not sitting on the other side perfectly calm, healed, or having it all figured out. I just found a way to build back a relationship without reaching for my best self, or finding my former self. I am here, as I am and I want you to be comfortable in every season too.

There Are No Prerequisites

You don't have to earn a relationship for yourself, and it doesn't need to consume your whole life. You just need to be willing to see yourself where you're at with fresh neutral eyes. So you can see what I already know, you are exactly the person you need to be right now.

Where Do You Go From Here?

So you can see what I already know: you are exactly the person you need to be right now.

If any of this sounded like you — the noticing, the tenant who won't leave, the version of you that's still in it — I built a way to help you see your specific pattern more clearly.

Start with the free archetype selector. Two minutes. No quiz pressure, no wrong answers. Just pick the one that sounds most like you.