Learning to Live MY Lotus Path

Early Years: Literally Dirt Poor

The house I was born into was half underground, half above ground, tucked away in a small wooded area just down the road from Deer Ridge Lake, five miles from the nearest town of 1,200 people, and it also had a dirt floor. This house was my father’s family’s house, built with their own hands. My family did not have a lot of money, we hunted for our food, grew a garden, fished, and foraged for wild edibles. Growing up, my favorite wild berries were gooseberries and mulberries!

When Home Wasn’t Safe

If only my problems were just poverty. Unfortunately, that’s not the case with me and many others like me.

Growing up in an abusive household, I learned early that the world could be unsafe and unpredictable. I learned to be quiet, unseen, and unheard, a people pleaser who couldn’t assert myself. I just wanted to minimize conflict and keep everyone happy and safe.

Despite this, or perhaps because of it, I felt called to help others from a young age. Early on, I felt a need to “fix it” or keep the peace to stay safe. I wanted to take care of people so that they felt loved and whole, not afraid or broken.

The Generational Curses

My mother was a nurse; naturally, I assumed that’s what I would be too. She worked nights, she was extremely strict, had impossible standards, and was very heavy-handed. My dad was a drunk, an absent one; whenever you needed him, he was busy self-medicating.

Turns out my mom along with her own lifetime of significant trauma, was also ADHD and my Dad bless his sad heart has been attempting to mask his Autism and sensitive nature all his life. I don’t need them to be diagnosed, I can see their patterns so clearly now.

They grew up without a childhood, as my father and mother were both child laborers, forced into domestic and agricultural work out of necessity, scarcity, and control, like many in that generation. My mother also experienced a great deal of trauma in various forms throughout her upbringing, which makes sense that they didn’t know how to be a good parent; they don’t even know themselves.

The Set Up

I have always been confident in what I like and want to learn about. I spent countless hours as a child reading medical books, watching CSI and Trauma: Life in the E.R., and being fascinated by the human body and science. Drawn to the how and why, especially regarding people.

We would often volunteer at nursing homes as kids, partly because my mom had to work and we had nowhere else to go; eventually, I came to love it, though. Growing up, I dreamed of becoming a trauma nurse, flying in medevac helicopters to save lives—perhaps because I understood what it meant to need saving. Or maybe because I felt so alone that I could fly away in a helicopter to save a life, and nobody would even care.

The only person in my life with whom I felt a connection was my paternal Grandmother. She had strong Native American beliefs and traditions that planted seeds of connection to nature and plant medicine that would later inspire me to go to herbalism school and return to a slower, more natural way of life. She was a kind and loving woman, selfless and always grateful.

By 13, my parents had finally divorced, and I was already an angry teen, with sibling troubles and whole family issues, so one bad night, my sister called the cops, they came to remove me, and I left. At an age when most kids worry about homework and friendships, I was navigating survival, all alone. I bounced from friend to friend, parent to parent, back and forth for the next few years until I found myself in trouble.

The Shattering: Loss at 17

At 16, I experienced sexual assault by a “friend’s dad”—another layer of trauma on an already wounded heart. Made a report, wore a wire to confront him, got a confession, the whole nine. It was crushing. I just wanted to be loved by someone. Anyone. Even those who only pretended to be nice to me. Even if they ended up hurting and using me; which I only later realized was a pattern.

A year later, at the age of 17, I became pregnant. Despite everything I’d endured, I felt hope. This baby would be my chance to break the cycle, to be the mother I never had.

Four days after my very first Mother’s Day—the last day I felt him healthy, kicking, and alive—my baby was stillborn.

I didn’t grieve. I barely cried. I just felt ripped off, like the one thing I was meant to do in life—be a better mother than I’d had—was taken from me. This loss planted seeds of unworthiness so deep that they would influence every decision for the next decade. It also marked my departure from Christianity, leaving a spiritual void that would take years to fill.

Feeling lost and cheated, I immediately began trying again; eight months later, I conceived my son. However, the relationship wasn’t healthy, and by the time I turned 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. So, I began following in my father’s autistic footsteps, turning to alcohol to numb it all away.

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 be proud of.

Instead, it cost me everything.

When I joined, my son’s now 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 after filled with doubt: “Am I a good person? Did I do the right thing? Is he truly better off without me? Do I even deserve to be a mother? Maybe when my first child died, it was a sign I’m not meant to be a mother.” was my internal voice on a loop, for years.

During my military service, I sustained numerous injuries that ended my pilot dreams. What I didn’t know then was that I have a connective tissue disorder, that made injuries likely and often. Also, ever since late 2014, when I was in South Korea, I contracted H. pylori; my digestion and health after has never been the same since.

Maybe it was the high vaccine load they give us before we leave, maybe it was the H. Pylori, maybe it was the environmental exposures, maybe it was the chronic stress of leaving behind my child and him forgetting me and replacing me entirely. Maybe is was all the soju I drank to forget about my troubles. Maybe a combination of all of those things.

Plus, the military culture was misaligned entirely with my sensitive, neurodivergent nervous system. However, I didn’t understand this about myself yet, which contributed to my being sexually assaulted while I was there. I came back from SK searching for answers, for meaning, purpose, myself. I had lost myself, if I ever even knew myself to begin with.

Finding My Way Back: A Decade of Searching

Since 2015, I’ve been in and out of school, searching for my path, trying to figure out who I am and what I can do with my life. Despite the challenges of military life, I realized I wasn’t burnt out on healthcare itself—just the specific job I had been doing; actually I missed helping people.

I started my BA in Psychology in August of 2015, taking classes on and off through the next year and a half. I returned from deployment in 2017, and that same year moved to North Carolina with my now husband, and I enrolled in general education courses.

I still had hopes of becoming a nurse, however, since active duty members couldn’t attend traditional nursing school, I focused on classes that would benefit my future, particularly in mental health, while also trying to do self research to figure out why I was always tired, had stomach problems and chronically just not feeling well. Every doctor telling me my labs look great, I’m the picture of 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 problems. I lost all structure, discipline, and motivation. I was struggling, yet despite everything, I pushed through and graduated with my associate’s degree in general education, with a focus on pre-nursing, in 2020. Juggling full-time school with motherhood and declining health was exhausting, and I still felt no sense of accomplishment. I felt fundamentally flawed and unworthy, ridiculous for struggling when others had no issue.

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, and a lifelong battle with an eating disorder, I made the decision to have plastic surgery, thinking external changes might fix internal wounds. If only I like who I saw in the mirror, I could maybe find more things to love about myself, look good feel good, right?

The recovery was brutal, exacerbating severe gastrointestinal issues, bringing crushing fatigue, immobility, and chronic pain. As you may have guessed, it did not in fact fix my internal wounds, and instead added more complications to my body like scar tissue and adhesions that further restrict my mobility and quality of life.

The Breaking Point and Breakthrough

By 2021, still struggling through motherhood, and rapidly declining health I attended herbalist school. Inspired by the wisdom of my grandmother, whom I lost to Covid, I knew I needed this wisdom, to return to the natural world for help. And it did help, some, but not enough. The intrusive thoughts persisted: Was I worthy of being a mother? Was my first child’s death a sign? My psychological state driving my health even further down.

By 2022, I was beyond sick, I had lost 50 pounds in 4 months, I couldn’t eat anything, I was blacking out when I stood up, I was lost and defeated, I was ready to give up. I’d gone to so many doctors, for years, they all kept dismissing me, of course at the time I didn’t understand what was happening in my mind and body either. I just knew I couldn’t keep going that way, I wouldn’t survive, I was desperately grasping at straws.

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 I also suddenly understood others too, like the patterns of humanity were spelled out to me. Sounds crazy, I know.

However, that doesn’t mean I suddenly have all the answers. It means I can see the patterns, and that healing isn’t a destination, it’s a continuous journey. I still struggle with my worth as a mother and have to make intentional, conscious efforts to combat the intrusive thoughts that surface daily, multiple times a day, even!

The Journey of Discovery

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

• Explored the intersection of Science, Physics, and Ancient wisdoms like Ayurveda.
• Became Reiki Level One Practitioner certified
• Discovered Traditional Chinese Medicine and Sacred Constitutional Medicine
• Studied Human Design, genetics, biopsychology, and cognitive neuropsychology
• Pursued formal education: Bachelor’s in Holistic Human Development and Ayurveda, Diploma in Holistic Health Practice

Through this journey, I also 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 diagnoses, aren’t separate disorders—they’re expressions of my unique constitutional patterns being imbalanced for years. The constellation of symptoms is often a predictable pattern of sequential problems when the body is improperly supported and undernourished.

For the first time in my life I realized I had strengths, I resonate with the elements of fire and air. Vata and Pitta in Ayurveda, So-eum (SE) in Sasang Constitutional Medicine. I have a sharp mind, curious, sensitive, passionate, sometimes hot tempered, prone to psychological stress, prone to digestive issues, always cold, thin, small framed, among other aspects.

I am great at research, I can see the big picture, I can synthesize complex information, but I struggle socially, and emotionally. I have big thoughts, feelings, and experiences, always moving, connecting, exploring, deeply introspective and curious. I could see my whole being, objectively. I have unique nutritional needs, lifestyle needs, medicinal plants… I have a whole natural prescription for life, if I choose to understand myself from the deepest parts, wholly. So do you.

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. Each painful experience grants me insight into others facing similar struggles, allowing me to connect deeply and offer genuine support. This awareness of how our behaviors, thoughts, patterns, and habits shape our reality is empowering. We must commit to lifelong learning, and continuous growth, the nature of life is to grow.

I created Living Lotus Holistics to share targeted holistic education, and encourage 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 we become aware of what limits our growth and inhibits our path toward purpose, we can make intentional choices to move beyond our comfort zones and make necessary changes.

We each have a unique prescription for life based on our unique biological makeup. To lead a happy and healthy life, you must first understand what nourishes your unique being: mind, body, and spirit.

An Ongoing Journey

I’m still recovering from years of systemic damage caused by chronic stress, unprocessed trauma, poor diet, and forcing my neurodivergent nervous system into situations it couldn’t handle. Some areas have improved dramatically, while others still require significant improvement, and others may never fully recover.

However, 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, when you care for your unique being, 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. I’ll be sharing my story as it unfolds, I hope you’ll join along the journey to discover your wholeness, and Live Your Lotus Path.