I'm not a therapist, a guru, and I'm not here to fix you. I'm a survivor, a space holder, and a soul who became what she once needed. I'm not telling you my story so you'll understand me. I'm telling you because I lived it, and it's the reason I can sit with you in yours.
A note before you read...
I worked on this page for months. I kept trying to make it perfect,
to fit decades of my life into something short enough to read
in a few minutes, and I argued with myself about every line.
What I finally realized though is it doesn’t have to hold everything.
The rest of it I’ll be sharing on my blog instead, slowly, whenever I feel the pull to.
Thank you for reading, and I hope it meets you right where you are.
I worked on this page for months. I kept trying to make it perfect,
to fit decades of my life into something short enough to read
in a few minutes, and I argued with myself about every line.
What I finally realized though is it doesn’t have to hold everything.
The rest of it I’ll be sharing on my blog instead, slowly, whenever I feel the pull to.
Thank you for reading, and I hope it meets you right where you are.
I worked on this page for months. I kept trying to
make it perfect, to fit decades of my life into
something short enough to read in a few minutes,
and I argued with myself about every line.
What I finally realized though is it doesn’t have
to hold everything. The rest of it I’ll be sharing on
my blog instead, slowly, whenever I feel the pull to.
Thank you for reading, and I hope it meets you
right where you are.
For a long time I thought something was just fundamentally wrong with me.
I thought I felt things too hard, needed too much, took up too much space,
and that I was too much and not good enough all at the same time.
And it'd take me years to understand where those beliefs came from...
For a long time I thought something was just fundamentally wrong with me.
I thought I felt things too hard, needed too much, took up too much space,
and that I was too much and not good enough all at the same time.
And it'd take me years to understand where those beliefs came from...
For a long time I thought something was just fundamentally wrong with me.
I thought I felt things too hard, needed too much, and that I was too much and not good enough all at the same time.
It'd take me years to understand where those beliefs came from...
On paper it looked like I had everything, but I never had much
emotional safety. Both of my parents lived at extreme highs and lows,
and my dad lived with chronic cluster headaches and migraines that kept
him in constant pain.
When it got bad he'd explode at us, and my family would excuse it because
they knew he was sick. But I think they did that so they'd never have to admit
how unhealthy the dynamic really was.
Because of all this, I learned to read everyone's mood before they even said
a word, and over time my body learned to flinch, brace, react, and dissociate
on its own.
Honestly, the explosions weren't even the worst part though.
The worst part would always be the next day.
On paper it looked like I had everything, but I never had much
emotional safety. Both of my parents lived at extreme highs and lows,
and my dad lived with chronic cluster headaches and migraines that kept
him in constant pain.
When it got bad he'd explode at us, and my family would excuse it because
they knew he was sick. But I think they did that so they'd never have to admit
how unhealthy the dynamic really was.
Because of all this, I learned to read everyone's mood before they even said
a word, and over time my body learned to flinch, brace, react, and dissociate
on its own.
Honestly, the explosions weren't even the worst part though.
The worst part would always be the next day.
On paper it looked like I had everything,
but I never had much emotional safety.
Both of my parents lived at extreme highs and lows, and my dad lived with chronic cluster headaches and migraines that kept him in constant pain.
When it got bad he'd explode at us, and my family would excuse it because they knew he was sick. But I think they did that so they'd never have to admit how unhealthy the dynamic really was.
Because of all this, I learned to read everyone's mood before they even said a word, and over time my body learned to flinch, brace, react, and dissociate entirely on its own.
My dad could lash out at me one night and buy me something the next,
and I'd be expected to take the gift and act like nothing happened.
Love in our house came as gifts and pride when we'd done something
worth showing off, and I learned early that it had to be earned.
If I said anything about what I saw or how I felt, I'd be told that it's all
in my head, my feelings weren't real, or that I was overreacting.
I'd be gaslit and manipulated, and it eventually taught me to stop trusting
my own mind.
Even so, I remained the curious kid who questioned everything,
in a house that'd mostly want you to shut up and listen to what you're told.
I was the one with the big mouth, the one who couldn't let things go,
and in a family whose biggest focus was reputation and a picture-perfect image, that made me the threat, and hence the scapegoat, for a lot of things.
My dad could lash out at me one night and buy me something the next,
and I'd be expected to take the gift and act like nothing happened.
Love in our house came as gifts and pride when we'd done something
worth showing off, and I learned early that it had to be earned.
If I said anything about what I saw or how I felt, I'd be told that it's all
in my head, my feelings weren't real, or that I was overreacting.
I'd be gaslit and manipulated, and it eventually taught me to stop trusting
my own mind.
Even so, I remained the curious kid who questioned everything,
in a house that'd mostly want you to shut up and listen to what you're told.
I was the one with the big mouth, the one who couldn't let things go,
and in a family whose biggest focus was reputation and a picture-perfect image, that made me the threat, and hence the scapegoat, for a lot of things.
But the explosions weren't even the worst part.
The worst part would always be the next day.
My dad could lash out at me one night and
buy me something the next, and I'd be expected to take the gift and act like
nothing happened.
Additionally, love in our house came as gifts and pride when we'd done something worth showing off, so I learned early that it had to be earned.
If I said anything about what I saw or felt,
I'd be told that it's all in my head, my feelings weren't real, or that I was overreacting. I'd be gaslit and manipulated, and it eventually taught me to stop trusting my own mind.
Then one day, something happened to me that I knew I couldn't carry alone.
So I did what you're supposed to do and told my school guidance counselor.
But it all got turned around on me, the same way everything else always did.
Instead of being the kid who finally asked for help, I became the kid who
was the problem and made it all up.
After that I stopped asking for help, because the experience just confirmed
to me what I'd already started to believe (that I wasn't good enough
and that something was genuinely wrong with me) were probably true.
After all, everything else in my life seemed to agree.
Then one day, something happened to me that I knew I couldn't carry alone.
So I did what you're supposed to do and told my school guidance counselor.
But it all got turned around on me, the same way everything else always did.
Instead of being the kid who finally asked for help, I became the kid who
was the problem and made it all up.
After that I stopped asking for help. The experience just confirmed what I'd already started to believe: that I wasn't good enough, and that something was genuinely wrong with me.
After all, everything else in my life seemed to agree.
One day something happened to me that I knew I couldn't carry alone. So I did what you're supposed to do and told my school guidance counselor, then it all got turned around on me.
Instead of being the kid who asked for help,
I became the kid who was the problem and made it all up.
After that I stopped asking, because the experience just confirmed to me what I'd already started to believe: that I wasn't good enough and that something was genuinely wrong with me. Not to mention everything else in my life seemed to agree.
I'd been medicated for ADHD and punished when my brain wouldn't fix itself.
I was picked apart constantly for my face and body by the kids at school,
my doctors, and even by the people who loved me most. And my older brother abandoned me without a word, leaving me the family's new scapegoat and forcing me into the role of big sister. (and yes, there's more...)
On top of all that, I'd been taught that what I felt wasn't real, so I never let myself
fall apart, when all I really wanted was to break down and cry. But instead I chose more control.
I'd been medicated for ADHD and punished when my brain wouldn't fix itself.
I was picked apart constantly for my face and body by the kids at school,
my doctors, and even by the people who loved me most. And my older brother abandoned me without a word, leaving me the family's new scapegoat and forcing me into the role of big sister. (and yes, there's more...)
On top of all that, I'd been taught that what I felt wasn't real, so I never let myself
fall apart, when all I really wanted was to break down and cry. But instead I chose more control.
I'd been medicated for ADHD and punished when my brain wouldn't fix itself. I was picked apart constantly for my face and body by kids at school, my doctors, and even by the people who loved me most.
Not to mention my older brother abandoned me without a word, leaving me the family's new scapegoat and forcing me into the role of big sister. (and yes, there's more...)
On top of all that, I'd been taught that what I felt wasn't real, so I never let myself fall apart, when all I really wanted was to break down and cry. But instead I chose more control.
I built my whole identity around an eating disorder and the obsessive mindset that came with it. Around discipline and "health" and being in charge of my body, because it was the one place I could feel in charge of anything. Then somewhere along the way, I lost any sense of who I actually was.
It lasted nearly a decade, because every time I tried to leave the cycle, relapsing and self-sabotage pulled me back. Until one day I almost fell backwards down
a flight of stairs, my heart pounding out of my chest and my head spinning from the amount of stimulants and fat burners I'd been abusing.
It scared me enough to realize that if I kept going the same way I'd been,
I was going to lose myself completely.
I built my whole identity around an eating disorder and the obsessive mindset that came with it. Around discipline and "health" and being in charge of my body, because it was the one place I could feel in charge of anything. Then somewhere along the way, I lost any sense of who I actually was.
It lasted nearly a decade, because every time I tried to leave the cycle, relapsing and self-sabotage pulled me back. Until one day I almost fell backwards down
a flight of stairs, my heart pounding out of my chest and my head spinning from the amount of stimulants and fat burners I'd been abusing.
It scared me enough to realize that if I kept going the same way I'd been,
I was going to lose myself completely.
I built my whole identity around an eating disorder and the obsessive mindset that came with it.
Around discipline and "health" and being in charge of my own body, because it was the one place I could feel in charge of anything.
Then somewhere along the way, I lost any sense of who I actually was.
But being scared enough to want out didn't mean I knew how to get out.
I was more hopeless than not by then, and I'd started to doubt there was anything bigger than me at all. And then quietly, things began to line up.
I finally told someone the truth about what I was doing to my body, and not long after, I moved to Vancouver Island to train in yoga and its therapeutic side.
The second I moved there, it seemed like the people I was meant to meet
just so happened to keep showing up on my path...
But being scared enough to want out didn't mean I knew how to get out.
I was more hopeless than not by then, and I'd started to doubt there was anything bigger than me at all. And then quietly, things began to line up.
I finally told someone the truth about what I was doing to my body, and not long after, I moved to Vancouver Island to train in yoga and its therapeutic side.
The second I moved there, it seemed like the people I was meant to meet
just so happened to keep showing up on my path...
But being scared enough to want out didn't mean I knew how to get out.
I was more hopeless than not by then, and
I'd started to doubt there was anything bigger than me at all. And then quietly, things began to line up.
One was a woman in my yoga therapy training who called herself a medium,
and seemed to have the ability to see other people's deepest pains. Somehow she knew everything I was carrying, (my eating disorder, my traumas, all of it), even when I looked completely healthy on the outside, and nobody else
was able to tell.
Another was a coworker of mine at my restaurant job, who introduced herself
as a spiritual healer (while my skeptical self side-eyed her in the process).
She opened the door to astrology, tarot, and a whole different way of living for me that I didn't even know was possible. Because until then I'd only ever believed there were "right ways" to exist. But she showed me I could take what resonates
and leave the rest.
With those two just being a fraction of the people who showed up on my path,
it continued to feel like something bigger than me was slowly handing me
the pieces of some super important puzzle, one at a time, long before I could see the picture that was trying to come together. One that eventually followed me all the way back to New Jersey, and ended up becoming Ahimsa Healz.
One was a woman in my yoga therapy training who called herself a medium,
and seemed to have the ability to see other people's deepest pains. Somehow she knew everything I was carrying, (my eating disorder, my traumas, all of it), even when I looked completely healthy on the outside, and nobody else
was able to tell.
Another was a coworker of mine at my restaurant job, who introduced herself
as a spiritual healer (while my skeptical self side-eyed her in the process).
She opened the door to astrology, tarot, and a whole different way of living for me that I didn't even know was possible. Because until then I'd only ever believed there were "right ways" to exist. But she showed me I could take what resonates
and leave the rest.
With those two just being a fraction of the people who showed up on my path,
it continued to feel like something bigger than me was slowly handing me
the pieces of some super important puzzle, one at a time, long before I could see the picture that was trying to come together. One that eventually followed me all the way back to New Jersey, and ended up becoming Ahimsa Healz.
One was a woman in my yoga therapy training who called herself a medium, and seemed to have the ability to see other people's deepest pains.
Somehow she knew everything I was carrying,
(my eating disorder, my traumas, all of it), even when I looked completely healthy on the outside, and nobody else was able to tell.
But before that picture could come together, I had to fall apart entirely.
And it started with something I could never have expected: Me feeling safe.Thousands of miles from the house that taught my body to brace and
doubt myself, my nervous system finally got to exhale. I didn't even notice it at first but my body did, and it took that exact opportunity to uproot it all.The first crack came during my yoga therapy class on eating disorders,
where I went from taking notes to experiencing my first public panic attack.
Then came years of everything I'd buried rising up, so much so that I genuinely thought I was losing my mind. And that's where my dark night of the soul began.
But before that picture could come together, I had to fall apart entirely.
And it started with something I could never have expected: Me feeling safe.Thousands of miles from the house that taught my body to brace and
doubt myself, my nervous system finally got to exhale. I didn't even notice it at first but my body did, and it took that exact opportunity to uproot it all.The first crack came during my yoga therapy class on eating disorders,
where I went from taking notes to experiencing my first public panic attack.
Then came years of everything I'd buried rising up, so much so that I genuinely thought I was losing my mind. And that's where my dark night of the soul began.
Thousands of miles from the house that taught my body to brace and doubt itself, my nervous system finally got to exhale. I didn't even notice it at first but my body did, and it took that exact opportunity to uproot it all.
The first crack came during my yoga therapy class on eating disorders, where I went from taking notes to experiencing my first public panic attack.
Then came years of everything I'd buried rising up, so much so that I genuinely thought I was losing my mind.
It was so much more than panic attacks and nightmare-filled nights though.
It was my whole identity coming apart. The eating disorder, the control,
the version of me I'd built for years just to survive. All of it started to crumble
in front of my own eyes, and I had no idea who I was without it.I grieved the childhood and teenage years that got swallowed whole by the endless need for control, and the eight years I'd spent at war with my own body. I was angry, terrified, questioning everything I thought I knew about myself and my family. Some days I couldn't tell the difference between breaking down and breaking open. It was all unraveling at once, inside me and around me.
At the same time, my yoga therapy training kept handing me words for it.
I was learning about the nervous system, about trauma and chronic stress response, about how a body can never feel safe when all it's ever done is brace and stay on high alert. Every lesson landed with the same stunned thought:
wait... did I really get this messed up?
It was so much more than panic attacks and nightmare-filled nights though.
It was my whole identity coming apart. The eating disorder, the control,
the version of me I'd built for years just to survive. All of it started to crumble
in front of my own eyes, and I had no idea who I was without it.I grieved the childhood and teenage years that got swallowed whole by the endless need for control, and the eight years I'd spent at war with my own body. I was angry, terrified, questioning everything I thought I knew about myself and my family. Some days I couldn't tell the difference between breaking down and breaking open. It was all unraveling at once, inside me and around me.
At the same time, my yoga therapy training kept handing me words for it.
I was learning about the nervous system, about trauma and chronic stress response, about how a body can never feel safe when all it's ever done is brace and stay on high alert. Every lesson landed with the same stunned thought:
wait... did I really get this messed up?
It was so much more than panic attacks and nightmare-filled nights. It was my whole identity coming apart. The eating disorder,
the control, the version of me I'd built for years just to survive. All of it started to crumble in front of my own eyes, and I had no idea who I was without it.I grieved the childhood and teenage years that got swallowed whole by the endless need for control, and the 8 years I'd spent at war with my own body. I was angry, terrified, and questioning everything I thought I knew about myself and my family.
Some days I couldn't tell the difference between breaking down and breaking open.
The bracing and numbing, the overthinking and self-sabotage, my compulsive need to control everything, and even the addictive tendencies... none of it meant something was wrong with me. It was my body just trying to protect me the only ways it knew how.
But understanding it wasn't the same as being free from it. Healing wasn't a clean break. For years I swung between extremes: control everything, then let go of everything, then control it all again. Strict discipline on one end, numbing out on the other. I called one end discipline and the other freedom, until I finally saw they were the same thing pointed in opposite directions. Both were ways of not feeling, and neither one was safe.
I relapsed more times than I can count, and every time it felt like I'd failed.
What changed wasn't that I stopped falling back. It was that I stopped treating a slip as a verdict, and started asking what I'd needed that I wasn't getting.
The bracing and numbing, the overthinking and self-sabotage, my compulsive need to control everything, and even the addictive tendencies... none of it meant something was wrong with me. It was my body just trying to protect me the only ways it knew how.
But understanding it wasn't the same as being free from it. Healing wasn't a clean break. For years I swung between extremes: control everything, then let go of everything, then control it all again. Strict discipline on one end, numbing out on the other. I called one end discipline and the other freedom, until I finally saw they were the same thing pointed in opposite directions. Both were ways of not feeling, and neither one was safe.
I relapsed more times than I can count, and every time it felt like I'd failed.
What changed wasn't that I stopped falling back. It was that I stopped treating a slip as a verdict, and started asking what I'd needed that I wasn't getting.
The bracing and numbing, the overthinking and self-sabotage, my compulsive need to control everything, and even the addictive tendencies... none of it meant something was wrong with me. It was my body just trying to protect me the only ways it knew how.
But understanding it wasn't the same as
being free from it.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, I felt, for the first time, what it was to be loved without having to earn it. And I decided I was done punishing myself.
I was hungry to take matters into my own hands and heal my relationship with myself for real this time. When COVID sent me back to Jersey, I started working with a therapist who took me under her wing and taught me about the brain and neuroplasticity. I kept learning astrology and tarot, and I was doing somatic release and moving my body like medicine without even knowing what it was called yet.
Then one of my yoga teachers recommended a book on the chakra system,
and something lit up.
Somewhere in the middle of all that, I felt, for the first time, what it was to be loved without having to earn it. And I decided I was done punishing myself.
I was hungry to take matters into my own hands and heal my relationship with myself for real this time. When COVID sent me back to Jersey, I started working with a therapist who took me under her wing and taught me about the brain and neuroplasticity. I kept learning astrology and tarot, and I was doing somatic release and moving my body like medicine without even knowing what it was called yet.
Then one of my yoga teachers recommended a book on the chakra system,
and something lit up.
I was hungry to take matters into my own hands and heal the relationship with myself for real this time. When COVID sent me back to Jersey, I started working with a therapist who took me under her wing and taught me about the brain and neuroplasticity. I kept learning astrology and tarot, and I was doing somatic release and moving my body like medicine without even knowing what it was called yet.
Then one of my yoga teachers recommended a book on the chakra system, and something lit up.
I had to understand all of it, so I dove into the science of the nervous system and of self-sabotage, how it develops and why it's so hard to let go. And I wanted to bring the Eastern and Western ways of healing together, the measurable with the immeasurable. The more pieces I gathered, the clearer the picture got.
And the part that still gives me chills is that I'd been carrying the name of what I was building on my body for years. The first tattoo I ever got, when I turned 18, was the word Ahimsa on my ribs (the yogic practice of non-violence towards the self and others), a vow to stop being violent toward the one person I'd spent my whole life at war with: me.
So I built the place I'd have given anything to find. Somewhere even feeling
1% safer counts, and nobody has to earn their way in.
I had to understand all of it, so I dove into the science of the nervous system and of self-sabotage, how it develops and why it's so hard to let go. And I wanted to bring the Eastern and Western ways of healing together, the measurable with the immeasurable. The more pieces I gathered, the clearer the picture got.
And the part that still gives me chills is that I'd been carrying the name of what I was building on my body for years. The first tattoo I ever got, when I turned 18, was the word Ahimsa on my ribs (the yogic practice of non-violence towards the self and others), a vow to stop being violent toward the one person I'd spent my whole life at war with: me.
So I built the place I'd have given anything to find. Somewhere even feeling
1% safer counts, and nobody has to earn their way in.
I wanted to understand all of it, so I dove into the science of the nervous system and self-sabotage, how it develops, and why it's so hard to let go. I wanted to bring the Eastern and Western ways of healing together, the measurable with the immeasurable. And the more pieces I gathered, the clearer the picture got.
The part that still gives me chills to this day is that I'd been carrying the name of what I was subconsciously building on my body for years. The first tattoo I ever got when I turned 18 was the word 'Ahimsa' on my ribs (the yogic practice of non-violence towards the self and others). A vow to stop being violent toward the one person I'd spent my whole life at war with: me.
Ahimsa Healz is a place you can come into from any point. Whether you're brand new to healing, somewhere in the middle, or near the tail end, I meet you where you are, from the science side to the energetic, the same way I wish someone had met me.
It was never about depending on me. It's about moving through your self-sabotage, finding your footing and your own authority, and coming home to yourself until you become your own healer.
Ahimsa Healz is a place you can come into from any point. Whether you're brand new to healing, somewhere in the middle, or near the tail end, I meet you where you are, from the science side to the energetic, the same way I wish someone had met me.
It was never about depending on me. It's about moving through your self-sabotage, finding your footing and your own authority, and coming home to yourself until you become your own healer.
It was never about depending on me. It's about moving through your self-sabotage, finding your footing and your own authority, and coming home to yourself until you become your own healer.
1 of 181827