I didn’t realize it right away — until my body demanded attention I felt I couldn’t ignore.
Last year was a year of challenge and transition unlike anything I have experienced before.
I deepened feelings in my relationship — one that quite literally and figuratively punched me in the gut. Emergency gallbladder surgery. Months of hives for someone who has never had skin issues. Pneumonia. The last first day of high school for my son as he began applying to college. A multitude of speaking engagements supporting transformation in rooms full of people. A lot of pickleball. A deepening devotion to creating art. And a series of transitions that quietly rearranged everything I thought I knew about myself, my body, and my life.
None of it felt random.
And none of it felt like punishment. Well, to be honest — some of it brought about feelings of a downward spiral before doing deeper work into healing.
I’m sharing this because bodies speak — and too many of us learned not to listen.
Last year brought emergency surgery, months of hives, pneumonia, and transitions that changed everything. Not as punishment, but as information.
This is a deep share about what my body asked for — and what I finally stopped bypassing.
I invite you to keep reading if you too have ever felt exhausted, over-functioning, or disconnected from yourself.
I uncovered deep messages from my body. Some I knew yet bypassed. Some of the messages lay deeper, and when I finally looked at them, I realized I knew them too but, on autopilot, I had let them fall down the rabbit hole.
Where it came from:
Emergency gallbladder surgery: Exhaustion, relief, and then anger — at filtering myself, bypassing my own needs, and staying in a dynamic that required me to contort instead of rest. My body stopped digesting inconsistency, self-abandonment, and the belief that if I showed up just right, safety would follow.
(Where in your life are you swallowing what your body is asking you to spit out?)
Hives:
My system reached capacity. I could not absorb anything else in my life — emotionally or energetically — while navigating profound transitions, identity shifts, and deep healing. My skin became the boundary I was learning to live instead of explain.
(What is your body reacting to because you keep saying yes when it needs a no?)
Pneumonia:
My lungs refused to carry the future before I was ready to inhabit the present. Breath slowed me down, asking me to stop bracing, stop rushing, and be here — fully — before moving forward.
(Where are you holding your breath, trying to get to the next chapter without fully being here?)
Transitions:
Initiations into a new season — preparing to live on my own for the first time in 25 years, redefining my work, my home, and my openness to love. Old identities loosened their grip as something truer asked to take up space.
(What are you being asked to release so you can inhabit your life more fully?)
My body didn’t betray me — it initiated me.
STOP. Take that in…
My body didn’t betray me — it initiated me.
Your body may feel the same to you RIGHT NOW. If you’re feeling it, you’re ready to
explore the messages.
As 2025 came to an end with weeks of resting for physical recovery, I received the gift of time to go deeper, reflect even more.
As I reflected — slowly, honestly, without bypassing — two words emerged for 2026:
DEVOTION — EMBODIED
Devotion is the why.
Embodied is the how.
Devotion is my commitment to myself — not rigid, not self-sacrificing, not performative.
It’s listening. Choosing. Staying. Telling the truth when it would be easier to override it.
Embodied means I don’t just know my truth — I live it.
In my nervous system.
In my boundaries.
In my pace.
In my breath.
In how I love, work, rest, and respond.
Together they say:
I am devoted to myself — and I live that devotion in my body.
This pairing honors:
• my refusal to bypass emotion
• my healing through presence, not force
• my feminine leadership — receptive, grounded, alive
• my integrity — walking what I teach
This is what last year prepared me for. Not healing as a concept — but healing as a lived experience. Not insight alone — but integration. Love is the medicine. Healing is an inside job.
For a long time, it felt like I was fighting with my body.
I didn’t villainize it. I didn’t romanticize the pain. And I didn’t rush to make meaning before I was ready. I listened.
I share this to offer you permission — permission to pause, to feel, and to hear what your body may be asking of you. And if you need a hand along the way, I’m here — ready to walk beside you and guide you through it.
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