Where Survival Ends and Safety Begins

I’m still not 100%.

It took months for me to just feel safe again—in my new home, in my own skin.
My body, mind, and spirit all needed—and still need—tender loving care.

You can’t ever imagine what this kind of healing feels like unless you’ve lived it. And even then, words fall short. There’s a depth to this kind of dysregulation that doesn’t translate easily into language. It lives in the nervous system. In the breath. In the way your body braces without asking permission.

And then—to consider doing all of that while also protecting children. While staying regulated for them when your own system is screaming for rest and repair.

There truly are no words for that layer.

For a long time, my only job was safety. Not productivity. Not presence online. Not explanations. Safety—in my body, in my home, in my nervous system. I had to relearn what it felt like to exhale without scanning the room. To rest without anticipating impact. To exist without bracing.

What I’ve come to understand—both personally and professionally—is that dysregulation doesn’t come from nowhere. It’s not weakness. It’s not failure. It’s the body doing its best to survive what the mind hasn’t yet been able to make sense of.

And abuse—because it needs to be said clearly—comes in all forms.

Not all abuse is loud.
Not all abuse leaves visible marks.
Not all abuse is easy to explain to people who haven’t lived inside it.

Some abuse looks like erosion. Like confusion. Like constantly second-guessing your own instincts. Like carrying emotional weight that was never meant to be yours. Like losing access to rest, softness, or joy without realizing how or when it happened.

Healing from that kind of experience is not linear. It’s slow. It’s layered. It asks for patience most of us were never taught how to give ourselves.

But I also know this:

This journey has made me a better healer.
A better person.
A better mother.

Not because of the pain—but because of what it demanded of me: presence, honesty, humility, and a deep respect for the body’s wisdom.

I’m sharing this now because my website is live again, yes—but more importantly, I am here again. Not “finished.” Not fully healed. But grounded enough to speak from experience, not survival mode.

If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself somewhere in it, know this: you’re not broken. Your body is responding exactly as it was designed to in the face of overwhelm and harm. Healing is possible—but it starts with safety, not pressure.

This space—my work, my writing, my offerings—will continue to be rooted in that truth.

Slowly. Gently. Honestly.

Healing doesn’t ask us to rush—only to listen.

About This Space
This space holds healing that is slow, embodied, and true. It honors the body’s wisdom, the nervous system’s need for safety, and the tender process of returning home to yourself after survival.