04/01/2026
Thereâs a kind of grief no one really talks aboutâŠ
The kind that comes from pouring your ððððð ððð
ðððð into somethingâ
only to watch it fall apart⊠disappear⊠or be taken from you.
I was reminded of that on my way to work this morning.
Because when something like that happensâŠ
itâs not just the thing you lose.
Itâs the pieces of ððð that were woven into it.
For me, it was my she shed.
Built from the bones of an old farm buildingâŠ
Every board placed with intention.
Every detail touched by my hands.
122 metal squares, hand-cut.
50+ pallets taken apart, piece by piece.
Walls filled with memoriesâ
Iowa Hawkeyes pride,
Chicago Cubs nostalgia,
and moments gifted by people I love.
It wasnât just a spaceâŠ
It was ðð ððððððððð âš
My peace.
My reset.
My joy.
And then⊠it was gone ð¥ð¥ð¥
That experience didnât just take a building.
It took me into a place I didnât recognize.
Anxiety.
Overwhelm.
A full nervous system collapse.
I asked for help.
From my doctor.
From others.
From the same tools I now guide my clients through.
Because I couldnât carry it alone.
And todayâŠ
there was still a small piece of that experience asking to be seen.
So I paused.
Sat with the Creator before walking into workâŠ
and I asked for something simple, but powerful:
âš Release whatâs still held
âš Cleanse the memory
âš Return the parts of me I left there
And in that momentâŠ
I felt a quiet wholeness come back online.
Hereâs what I know now:
You donât just âmove onâ from experiences like that.
You ððððððð ðððððððð from them.
Piece by piece.
Moment by moment.
Choice by choice.
And if youâve ever poured yourself into something
that didnât lastâŠ
Just knowâ
You are not broken.
But parts of you may still be waiting to come home.
As of 2026âŠ
Iâm no longer on medication.
I feel more alive, more grounded, more ðð than I have in years.
And this?
This is why I do what I do.
To help you come back to yourselfâ
fully.
safely.
and without having to do it alone.
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