By 14, the abuse at home became unbearable, and I left. At an age when most kids worry about homework and friendships, I was navigating survival. I dreamed of becoming a trauma nurse, flying in medevac helicopters to save lives—perhaps because I understood what it meant to need saving.

Eight months later, I conceived my son. The relationship wasn’t healthy, and by 21, I was married and divorced. Working as a CNA for 80+ hours a week, I felt like I was failing him. The constant exhaustion, the missed moments, the struggle to provide—it all reinforced my belief that I wasn’t good enough for him.

Overwhelmed by burnout and drowning in feelings of inadequacy, I made what seemed like a logical decision: join the Army. I thought military service would give us a better life, make me someone my son could admire.

Instead, it cost me everything.

When I joined, my son’s stepmother replaced me entirely. My ex-husband cut me out of our son’s life completely. Looking back now, I understand he was doing what he thought was best—providing the stability that military life couldn’t offer. And I loved my son enough to let him have that stable life. He had no idea who I was anymore. If I forced my way back in, it could cause significant psychological damage that I couldn’t accept.

So I let him go. But every day since has been filled with doubt: Am I a good person? Do I deserve to be a mother? Maybe when my first child died, it was a sign I’m not meant to be a mother.

During my military service, I sustained numerous injuries that ended my pilot dreams. What I didn’t know then was that I have an undifferentiated connective tissue disorder. The military culture was completely misaligned with my sensitive, neurodivergent nervous system—though I didn’t understand this about myself yet.

Finding My Way Back: A Decade of Searching

Since 2015, I’ve been in and out of school, searching for my path. Despite the challenges of military life, I realized I wasn’t burnt out on healthcare itself—just the specific job I’d been doing. I deployed in 2017, and that same year moved to North Carolina where I enrolled in general education courses. Since active duty members couldn’t attend traditional nursing school, I focused on classes that would benefit my future, particularly in mental health.

Motherhood Redux: When Everything Resurfaces

In 2018, while going to school full-time, I became pregnant with my daughter. Her arrival became the catalyst for everything to resurface. Instead of joy, I found myself drowning in postpartum depression and overwhelming self-doubt. All the unprocessed grief, the feelings of unworthiness, the neurodivergent struggles I still didn’t understand—it all came crashing down.

I was medically separated from the Army in April 2019, adding another layer of identity crisis to my struggles. Despite everything, I pushed through and graduated with my associate’s degree in 2020, juggling full-time school with motherhood and declining health.

I felt even lower than I thought possible. With my neurodiversity, it felt like I was incompatible with the traits of a soft, kind, compassionate, and emotionally regulated mother. In December 2020, struggling with severe body image issues, I made the decision to have plastic surgery, thinking external changes might fix internal wounds. The recovery was brutal, bringing severe gastrointestinal issues, crushing fatigue, and chronic pain.

The Breaking Point and Breakthrough

By 2021, still struggling through motherhood, I attended herbalist school. It helped some, but not enough. The intrusive thoughts persisted: Was I worthy of being a mother? Was my first child’s death a sign?

In March 2023, as a last-ditch effort, I tried ketamine therapy. Luckily, it worked, and my whole world changed. This experience became my turning point—I woke up with a profound understanding of myself, my patterns, and how my constitutional differences had been expressing themselves through what others called “disorders.”

But healing isn’t a destination. I still struggle with my worth as a mother and have to make intentional, conscious efforts to combat the intrusive thoughts that surface.

The Journey of Discovery

Since that breakthrough, I’ve immersed myself in understanding human constitution and healing:

• Explored Ayurveda deeply
• Became Reiki Level One certified
• Discovered Traditional Chinese Medicine and Sacred Constitutional Medicine
• Studied Human Design, astrology, metaphysics, biopsychology, and cognitive neuropsychology
• Pursued formal education: Bachelor’s in Holistic Human Development and Ayurveda, Diploma in Holistic Health Practice

Through this journey, I discovered I have aphantasia and anauralia—my mind is both blind and silent. For almost 30 years, I didn’t know I experienced the world differently. This, along with my ADHD, autism, EDS, POTS, and other “alphabet soup” diagnoses, aren’t separate disorders—they’re expressions of my unique constitutional pattern.

My Mission: From Wounds to Wisdom

I never thought I would feel complete or find my path. While I may never understand why I experienced each trauma, I now recognize that every challenging moment has contributed to my understanding of human existence and constitutional patterns.

Through all the darkness, I’ve learned we can remain lights. This awareness of how our behaviors, thoughts, patterns, and habits shape our reality is empowering. Each painful experience grants me insight into others facing similar struggles, allowing me to connect deeply and offer genuine support.

I created Living Lotus Holistics to foster connection and community—the support system I desperately needed during my darkest times. Your body isn’t broken; it has its own intelligence that deserves to be understood. When conditions limit our growth and inhibit our path toward purpose, it’s vital to step beyond our comfort zones and make necessary changes.

An Ongoing Journey

I’m still recovering from years of systemic damage caused by chronic stress, unprocessed trauma, and forcing my neurodivergent nervous system into situations it couldn’t handle. Some areas have improved dramatically; others still pose challenges. But I’ve discovered that when you stop spending energy trying to be someone you’re not, when you start supporting your constitutional patterns instead of fighting them, you have exponentially more authentic energy to offer.

My commitment is to share everything I discover, create a safe space for your unique constitutional path, and build a community where we can heal together—honoring our individual differences and the wisdom we all bring.

Because every person deserves wellness approaches designed for their individual constitutional patterns. Your innate nature is not a problem to be solved—it’s wisdom to be understood.