In2It Health

In2It Health Christina is a gifted Intuitive that offers services to help you create a more productive, comfortab

Services Available: Intuitive Readings and in person, on line Yoga classes. The mission of In2It Health is to support those interested in healing their life using energy work, meditation, yoga, movement, diet and much more.

We talk about the “empath and narcissist” dynamic like one person is caring and one person is selfish.But that is not de...
04/16/2026

We talk about the “empath and narcissist” dynamic like one person is caring and one person is selfish.

But that is not deep enough.

The deeper issue is identity.

The narcissist does not usually have a healthy strong self. They have a forceful false self. A distorted certainty that tells other people what is true, what happened, and who they are.

The empath often has sensitivity, conscience, and perception, but not enough anchored selfhood.

So the narcissist over-defines.
The empath under-defines.

And the narcissist’s identity gets installed by default.

That is why this dynamic feels so confusing.

The empath is not only drawn to the narcissist’s distortion.
They are often drawn to the narcissist’s apparent solidity.

False certainty can feel like strength when you do not yet know who you are.

Then later comes the rage:
you turned me into someone I’m not.

But the deeper truth is often:
I was not solid enough yet to stop you from doing it.

That is not blame.
That is the wound.

This is not only about boundaries.
Boundaries are the shape of self.

If self is foggy, boundaries will be foggy too.

So the real healing is not just leaving.
It is becoming someone whose identity cannot be overwritten so easily again.

A weak or under-formed self can mistake false certainty for strength.

This is not love.
It is self-loss.

We’re often told the problem is that we’re “too sensitive.”But sometimes the real problem starts much earlier:we can fee...
04/14/2026

We’re often told the problem is that we’re “too sensitive.”

But sometimes the real problem starts much earlier:

we can feel everything in the room,
but we don’t yet have a strong enough self to stay rooted while we feel it.

So we adjust.
We become careful.
Helpful.
Watchful.
Whatever the environment seems to require.

That isn’t a true self.
That’s a self built in response.

What gets called sensitivity is often self-loss.

Just because we can feel what others carry
doesn’t mean we are meant to build ourselves around it.

Maybe the real beginning of self is this:

we stop creating ourselves from what everyone else needed us to be,
and start becoming who we actually are.

Does this land somewhere familiar?

I’m having an uncomfortable day.Face swollen. Tears galore. Body asking for more than my mind wanted to give.And as much...
04/09/2026

I’m having an uncomfortable day.

Face swollen. Tears galore. Body asking for more than my mind wanted to give.

And as much as I would love to muscle through it, sometimes discomfort has its own intelligence.

Sometimes not feeling well becomes the moment when life says:
sit down.
stop pushing.
let yourself soften.

There is a vulnerability that doesn’t arrive because we bravely choose it.
It arrives because something in us gets tender enough that we can’t keep holding the same shape.

That’s where I am today.

Letting the discomfort be a catalyst.
Letting the tenderness melt what resistance could not.
Letting the softness move through instead of making this one more thing to fight.

I don’t like feeling off.
I don’t like being slowed down.
I definitely don’t enjoy having my ass handed to me by my own body.

But there is something honest here too:
sometimes the breakdown in comfort becomes the opening.
Sometimes the body makes us sit still long enough for the heart to catch up.

So today I’m not forcing strength.
I’m letting softness do what force could not.

I’m seeing something clearly right now:My field is not neutral.And neither is yours.We impact people.We stir things.We c...
04/07/2026

I’m seeing something clearly right now:

My field is not neutral.

And neither is yours.

We impact people.
We stir things.
We catalyze experiences.
We become part of what someone else lives through just by being who we are in proximity to them.

For a long time, I think I translated that as:
I’m too much.
I should shrink.
I should be smaller, quieter, less charged, less impactful so I don’t affect people so deeply.

But shrinking doesn’t actually serve anyone.

Because the truth is, we are here to affect each other.

Not always pleasantly.
Not always comfortably.
Not always in ways the human mind labels as “good.”

But impact is not the same thing as wrongdoing.

Sometimes your presence is medicine.
Sometimes your presence is a mirror.
Sometimes your presence is a catalyst.
Sometimes your presence changes someone’s life in a way they may not even appreciate while it’s happening.

That doesn’t make your existence a problem.

It makes it consequential.

I’m also seeing that underneath our human labels of right/wrong, good/bad, wanted/unwanted, there is just experience.
Charge.
Meaning.
Movement.
What is.

And all of it matters.

That doesn’t mean harm is okay.
It means reality is bigger than our immediate interpretation of it.

Some people will experience your field as blessing.
Some will experience it as disruption.
Some will experience it as both.

That does not mean you are here to be less.

It means you are here to be fully here.

I think a lot of us have confused being “good” with being non-impactful.
Pleasant.
Manageable.
Easy to digest.
Small enough not to change the room.

But that is not the same as being true.

You do not help the world by shrinking your charge.
You do not serve your life by making yourself less catalytic.
You do not honor the experience of being here by pretending your field does not matter.

It matters.

Your presence matters.
Your charge matters.
Your impact matters.

The invitation is not to become harmless.

It’s to become conscious.

Sometimes the hardest part is not the thing itself.It’s the stillness after.The room gets quiet.The conversation is over...
04/02/2026

Sometimes the hardest part is not the thing itself.

It’s the stillness after.

The room gets quiet.
The conversation is over.
The person is gone.
Nothing new is happening.

And yet your body is still lit up like danger is standing right in front of you.

Heart racing.
Back tight.
Jaw locked.
Shoulders up.
Mind circling.
Body acting like it has to survive something that is no longer actually happening.

That is what I mean by historical distortion.

Not that what happened wasn’t real.
Not that the body is wrong.
But that the body is often responding to stored meaning, old coding, old fear, old evidence that got written into the system as truth.

And when that old data is running, stillness can feel unbearable.

Because stillness is where the body finally has to feel what it could not process in the moment.
Stillness is where old alarms start echoing.
Stillness is where history rushes in wearing the clothes of now.

That does not mean you are broken.
It does not mean you are dramatic.
It does not mean the fear is the truth.

It means your system is still reading from a file that was written in another moment, another wound, another version of reality.

That is why this work matters.

Because healing is not just learning how to calm down after activation.
It is learning how to recognize when the activation is coming from historical data that no longer applies.

The body may be telling the truth about what it remembers.
But memory is not always the same thing as reality.

So sometimes the deepest recode is not:
“I’m okay.”

Sometimes it is:
“Nothing is wrong right now.”
“This is an old alarm.”
“This is historical distortion.”
“I do not have to let old evidence define this moment.”

Signal is real.
Distortion is optional.

And sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is sit in the stillness long enough to tell the truth about what is actually happening now.

Extraordinary things I saw yesterday. A huge double yolker from our chickens and a tiny rescued cow that was from an ac...
03/27/2026

Extraordinary things I saw yesterday. A huge double yolker from our chickens and a tiny rescued cow that was from an action.

I have been having such cravings to touch a cow lately. 😂

03/25/2026

lot of our deepest pain was not only what happened. It was the indifference around it. The moments when our fear, our no, our needs, or our suffering were not truly met. Healing begins when we stop being indifferent to ourselves and start responding to our own experience with care.

And an even tighter version if you want it more minimal:

Sometimes the deepest wound is not only the pain itself. It’s the indifference around it. Healing begins when we decide not to be indifferent to ourselves anymore.

What I’m processing today is this:A lot of the deepest damage in childhood is not only what happened.It’s the indifferen...
03/25/2026

What I’m processing today is this:

A lot of the deepest damage in childhood is not only what happened.

It’s the indifference around what happened.

Indifference to what you wanted.
Indifference to what you felt.
Indifference to what you said.
Indifference to your no.
Indifference to your fear.
Indifference to your pain.
Indifference to your timing.
Indifference to who you actually were.

And that indifference can show up in a thousand forms.

Sometimes it looks mild and socially acceptable.
A doctor ignoring your body’s protest.
An adult dismissing your feelings.
A parent acting like your needs are inconvenient.
A family system rolling right over your reality.

Sometimes it is far more severe.

But the wound underneath is often the same:
my experience did not matter enough to be met.

That’s the injury.

Not just pain.
Not just violation.
But the deadness around it.
The absence of attunement.
The absence of care.
The absence of a real stop.

And then many of us grow up and keep doing the same thing to ourselves.

We become indifferent to our own exhaustion.
Indifferent to our own no.
Indifferent to our own body.
Indifferent to our own timing.
Indifferent to the way we keep pushing, overriding, abandoning, or explaining away what we feel.

So part of healing is brutally simple:

we have to decide not to be indifferent to ourselves anymore.

Not to our pain.
Not to our limits.
Not to our desire.
Not to our inner no.
Not to the parts of us that were never compassionately held.

Because indifference is not neutrality.
It is a wound.

And when you stop being indifferent to yourself, everything starts to change.

I went for a walk today because I needed to clear my head and come back to myself.And the whole walk felt a little encha...
03/21/2026

I went for a walk today because I needed to clear my head and come back to myself.

And the whole walk felt a little enchanted.

There were crossroads.
Heart-shaped rocks.
Lichen growing over fallen branches like old lace.
That feeling of being alone in the woods just long enough for the world to start talking back.

And then I came upon this mailbox.

This fu***ng epic mailbox.

It looks like a tiny forest cottage that got half reclaimed by the woods and decided it would still receive the mail with dignity.

Like some woodland witch lives there.
Like it gets letters from ravens and overdue tax notices.
Like if you stay soft long enough, the world starts showing off.

That’s what today felt like.

Not that everything was fixed.
Not that life suddenly made perfect sense.
Just that the minute I slowed down enough to really be here, the world started reflecting something magical back to me.

Sometimes that’s enough.
A dirt road.
A deep breath.
A weirdly beautiful mailbox.
A reminder that enchantment is still threaded through things, even now.

And sometimes happily ever after is not a fairy tale.
Sometimes it’s just this:
walking slowly enough to notice that even the mailbox has become a little house in the woods.

There is a cost to being awake.Not just spiritually awake.Not just politically awake.Not just emotionally intelligent.I ...
03/21/2026

There is a cost to being awake.

Not just spiritually awake.
Not just politically awake.
Not just emotionally intelligent.

I mean awake enough to actually feel what is happening.

Awake enough to see the damage.
The conditioning.
The grief.
The distortion.
The inherited pain.
The systems that break people and call it normal.
The children who carry what should never have touched them.
The adults still living out what was done to them.
The quiet ways people disappear inside duty, survival, addiction, pressure, performance.

There is a cost to seeing clearly.

Because once you see it, you cannot fully unsee it.
And once you feel it, there are mornings when “just live your life” does not land so easily.

There are mornings when the cost of being awake sits right in your chest.

And on those mornings, the answer is not to become numb.
It is not to shame yourself for feeling.
It is not to turn your grief into weakness.

Sometimes the answer is simply:
let it move.

Cry.
Feel it.
Tell the truth about what hurts.
Let your heart register the weight of what is real.

And then, when the wave has moved through,
do not build your home inside the grief.

Have your tea.
Take the walk.
Make the dinner.
Love the people.
Touch the dog.
Go back to your life.

Not because the grief was false.
Because your life is also true.

That is the discipline of being awake:
to let the pain in,
without letting it take over the whole house.

The cost of being awake is heavy sometimes.

But I would still rather feel the real thing
than spend my life calling numbness peace.

There is a kind of exhaustion that comes from living between two authorities:the one you were given,and the one you can ...
03/20/2026

There is a kind of exhaustion that comes from living between two authorities:

the one you were given,
and the one you can feel.

The prescribed morality says:
be responsible,
be practical,
be realistic,
work hard,
don’t want too much,
don’t risk too much,
don’t choose freedom over duty.

And then there is the deeper compass.
The quieter knowing.
The part of you that says:
this is not my path.
this is not what I actually want.
this is not the shape of my life.
this is what is true for me.

That is where compression begins.

Because if you follow your own compass, you can feel like you are betraying the morality you were raised inside.
And if you obey the morality you were given, you can feel yourself betraying your own life.

That split creates exhaustion.

Not because you are weak.
Because you are trying to stand in two realities at once.

One says:
be faithful to the rules.

The other says:
be faithful to what is true.

And the body feels the cost of that conflict.

That is moral exhaustion.

Not simply being overworked,
but being compressed by a set of values that may not actually belong to you.

Sometimes the deeper question is not,
“What is the responsible thing to do?”

It is:
“Whose morality am I obeying right now?”
And
“Is it costing me my life force?”

Because the exhaustion is not always proof that your true path is wrong.

It may be proof that you are tired of betraying it.

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Wilmington, NC
28411

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+18605013562

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