Somewhere along the way it became a word people recoil from — heavy, final, almost taboo. I understand why. When hospice enters the conversation, it brings reality with it. It sits close to words like terminal, and that can feel like too much to hold all at once.

It is so hard when we are inside the struggle. Inside the loss. Inside the unraveling. When you’re in the thick of it, it can feel almost impossible to understand the why. We don’t want to hear that challenges are opportunities. We feel wronged. We feel hurt. We feel exhausted. And often, we simply don’t want to feel it at all— we just want it to stop.

I had been in talk therapy with the most amazing therapist for many years. Over time, we had worked through so much — childhood wounds, money issues, career shifts. She was the perfect therapist for me for so long, and I grew tremendously working with her.

Until this one thing. My marriage.

I see so many people seeking — seeking so hard to find peace, coherence, and meaning. Looking outside themselves — in others, in modalities, in anything — to relieve the discomfort and find inner peace.

We can learn all the things and practice all the things. But in the end, it’s only up to us.
We are the experts in ourselves.
We are the only ones responsible for our inner peace.

More often than not, the healthy parent gets the short end of the stick, especially around the holidays. An unhealthy parent may feel sorry for themselves, and that can quietly create a dynamic where the kids feel obligated to make them happy or meet their emotional needs. No one rushes in to feel sorry for the healthy parent in the same way.

Why do we buy presents for people we aren’t actually close to?
Why do we gather with extended family we barely know (or don’t genuinely enjoy) simply because the calendar tells us this day is “special”?

Something I always come back to when I notice that impulse to “get things done” is what I learned from a wonderful midwife, Polli Mitglieder, and meditation teacher, Christian Wolf, during an MBSR for Childbirth course. They taught me to take massive advantage of, and find deep appreciation for, the brief rest periods. Thirty seconds is sometimes all we get between contractions during active labor!

It’s not until I am back home, the doors closed, the house quiet, that the feelings begin to surface - if I allow them.

I am tired. And if I am honest, I don’t want to feel these feelings either. But I know better.

I know they will force themselves out in unhealthy ways if I don’t make room for them.
What we resist, persists.

I really don’t like being treated like crap by my teens. This is when my patience is truly tested. Some days I feel like I take all the crap. And most days, I do. It always feels like such a balancing act to find the right line: when is it just normal hormone-fueled turbulence that will pass in five minutes, and when is it real disrespect that warrants a boundary?

Lately, it feels like so many people are in a season of falling apart — jobs, relationships, identities, the way things used to be.
I wrote this as a love note to the version of you who’s standing in the rubble, wondering what comes next.

Two of my favorite words or concepts that I see coming up more and more are somatics and trauma informed. Of course, I love these because they are what I do and what I study, but I’m also thrilled to see them getting more press these days. To me, it means people are becoming more interested, and maybe even that our world is evolving toward a more holistic, body-based, and empathetic way of approaching life. That’s my hope!

That’s the heart of being human: free will. We can choose how we respond—both to a conflict with a friend and to horrific headlines. I’m choosing not to let the outer madness destroy my inner harmony. I’m choosing to keep my light on because the world needs it.

That’s the heart of being human: free will. We can choose how we respond—both to a conflict with a friend and to horrific headlines. I’m choosing not to let the outer madness destroy my inner harmony. I’m choosing to keep my light on because the world needs it.

This week, I’ve been really sitting with a phrase a mentor once taught me: “The issue is not the issue. The issue is how we relate (or connect ) to ourselves within the issue.”

When we don’t hold our boundaries… when we say “yes” but mean “no”… when we ignore that quiet inner voice, we often start to feel resentful. And what do we do? We blame the person who overstepped the boundary that we didn’t enforce.

If back-to-school season feels like a whirlwind in your house, I get it. For years, our family’s transition from summer to school mode was anything but smooth—late nights, frazzled mornings, and a lot of deep sighing.

When was the last time you did a cartwheel? Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I still could. Part of me was bracing for a crash landing—I thought my arms might give out, or I’d end up in a heap of limbs and regret.

The jaw is one of the strongest joints in the body, and we ask a lot of it - chewing, talking, and engaging all day long. Even on a good day, without added stress, it’s working hard and likely holding tension.

Try placing your hands on your jaw. See if that feels supportive. You might notice that a deep breath or sigh comes naturally. It doesn’t take much, just baby steps. These small, nurturing practices bring awareness and relief.

We lose ourselves daily—in responsibilities, in identities, in the noise of the world. Spiritually, emotionally, mentally. The real work is returning. Coming back to our bodies, back to our hearts.