The Awakening — Remembering the Body

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to help people live healthier, more connected lives. I imagined myself doing something holistic — guiding others toward balance, vitality, and purpose.

There was just one problem.
I was suffering deeply.

For years, I lived with debilitating stomach issues, intense back pain, and a heavy depression that drained every bit of life from me. I was broken — working in a high-stress industry that demanded everything and gave nothing back. I could never find the time to heal. I only found ways to numb it.

I felt trapped.
Trapped in a job.
Trapped in a body that hurt.
Trapped in a cycle that I couldn’t escape.

The Early Wounds

My body’s story of trauma began when I was seventeen.

A mysterious mass was discovered in my pelvic floor. It turned out to be a sarcoma, a serious cancer that immediately sent my life into a whirlwind of tests, surgeries, and treatments. My senior year of high school ended before it even began.

That was the fall of 1999.

Four years later, another blow — a carcinoma in my jaw. Thankfully, it was resolved with surgery alone, but the recovery was brutal and left lasting scars.

Not long after that, a violent motorcycle accident shattered what was left of my body’s sense of safety. I spent weeks in the hospital and months in agony.

All of this — the surgeries, the cancer, the crash — happened within a short span of years, right as my family was building and expanding our restaurant. I buried the pain, pushed through, and worked harder. The restaurant became my life — long hours, constant stress, endless motion.

My body didn’t forget any of it.

The Slow Decline

By my twenties, my health had begun to unravel. My digestion failed me. My bowels were a constant battle — often blood and mucus, no real relief, just waves of pain. Doctors offered little clarity.
I had colonoscopies, endless tests, and was told to take pills “for life.”

But something in me refused to accept that.

I began exploring holistic health on my own — diets, supplements, therapies, anything that might make me feel human again. I spent thousands of dollars chasing answers, following bad advice, trying every alternative approach I could find. But nothing seemed to address the root cause of my suffering.

Deep down, I was sure it all went back to my cancer — the trauma, the surgeries, the years of pushing and suppressing. My body was still holding the score, still fighting battles long after the war had ended.

Breaking Free

By my late thirties, the restaurant — the place I had grown up in, given my life to — was sold. And suddenly, I was free.

For the first time, there was space.
Space to breathe.
Space to ask who I really was without all the noise.

I knew one thing for sure: I could never go back. The restaurant world had consumed me. I couldn’t face another kitchen, another shift, another cycle of exhaustion and pain.

I thought about new paths — maybe working at the Mayo Clinic, maybe returning to school — but none of it stirred anything in me. Nothing made sense… except for one thing.

A yoga therapy program in Duluth, Minnesota.

I didn’t even fully understand what it was. But something in me — maybe the part that still believed in healing — knew I had to go. It was less a decision and more a calling.

So I jumped.

The Beginning of Remembering

That program became the turning point of my life. It was where I started to feel my body again — not just as a collection of symptoms, but as a living, breathing memory.

For years, my body had been screaming through pain and illness. Now, I was finally listening.

Through yoga therapy, breathwork, and somatic practice, I began to understand that my body wasn’t my enemy — it was my teacher. Every contraction, every ache, every knot of tension was a story I had never been allowed to tell.

This was the beginning of my awakening — the start of a journey inward.

A journey toward remembering the body.
A journey toward the breath.
A journey home.