A Resurrection Story of Grief, Resilience, and Healing
I was trained to heal animal’s surgically. But it took losing my heart to remember my soul.
For 20 years, I lived in a glass house.
A polished life of white coats, surgical schedules, and status symbols. From the outside, I was everything I thought I was supposed to be. Respected. Accomplished. Safe... But the deeper I climbed into success, the more my spirit fractured.
I became a widow at 40, with three babies and a barn full of grief. The loss unraveled me in a way no textbook or therapy session ever could.
All the places I had hidden my ancestral wounds of scarcity, fear, and perfectionism rose to the surface, demanding to be witnessed.
So, I listened. To the animals. To the trees. To my own soul. And in the stillness, something ancient stirred. Through the sacred and intentional use of plant medicine, I began my healing journey. One not of fixing, but of remembering.
What I discovered wasn't a path forward.
It was a path inward
As I began restoring an abandoned horse farm, I realized I wasn’t just rebuilding barns or brushing paint over old wood.
I was reconstructing my nervous system, reclaiming my voice, and untangling my spirit from everything I thought I had to be. The land taught me patience. The animals became messengers. Plant medicine opened windows I never knew existed…
My healing didn’t happen all at once. It never does. But each morning as I walk the pasture of my beloved Blue Fox Farm and muck a stall or hold a gaze with a horse, I reclaim another fragment of myself.
Real Reflections for Real Healing
If you’re craving truth that doesn’t sugarcoat, rituals that meet you where you are, and real-time reflections from someone still walking the healing path, I’m here to be your guide. Every piece is written for you, the one trying to make meaning from the mess.