12/17/2025
I’m a mess most days.
My house is rarely spotless. I don’t sit down often because when I do, I’m afraid I won’t get back up. Life is busy in a way that blurs the days together — I forget to thaw the meat, sometimes have to rewash laundry because I forgot to move it to the dryer, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I mopped my floors or dusted the ceiling fans. There never seems to be enough time.
And yet… in the middle of this messy, chaotic, beautifully full life, there are a few places where I find the deepest joy.
My family is my greatest purpose — the most beautiful, grounding force in my life — and I’m grateful for them every single day. But my work… my work holds a special place in my heart.
Each client is a story. A mystery. A puzzle waiting to be understood. The anticipation of unlocking a tight neck or freeing a back that’s been holding pain for years lights something up in me that’s hard to explain. It’s one of the most profound places where I feel alive and aligned.
I may burn the cookies more often than not. I might leave dishes in the sink, forget to check the mail for days, or rely on frozen dinners more nights than I’d like to admit. But when it comes to my work, I don’t miss the details.
Because I know what it’s like to live in deep, chronic pain — to be told over and over again by “professionals” that there’s nothing more that can be done. And ever since I began this work, I’ve been determined to ask the questions no one else asked and search for solutions no one thought were possible.
Bodywork is a world of creativity and endless healing. Muscles are like clay in my hands — shaped by stress, guarded by years of survival, locked into patterns they were never meant to stay in. Together, we soften, shift, and restore what’s been held for far too long.
So yes… you might come to see a messy, busy mom. I might answer the door in fuzzy slippers or forget my socks altogether. But you can bet your bottom dollar that I will show up fully present, deeply committed, and ready to give you the massage of a lifetime.
And if I can’t be the one to solve it myself, I will help you find someone who can. And if answers still feel far away, you’ll always have me in your corner — praying for you, cheering you on, and believing fiercely in your healing.
That, to me, is an abundant life.
And when I step back and look at it all — the mess, the chaos, the forgotten laundry, the busy days that blur together — I don’t feel regret.
I feel gratitude.
Gratitude for a life that is full instead of perfect. For a family that is loud, beautiful, and deeply rooted in love. For work that calls to my soul and allows me to serve, create, and heal in a way that feels meaningful beyond words.
This life may be disorganized and imperfect, but it is abundant. It is honest. It is mine.
And I wouldn’t change any part of it for the world.
❤️❤️❤️
