On Self-Discovery and Doing the Work
Strength isn’t found at the top. It’s built on the way up.
For a long time, I didn’t realize how disconnected I had become from my body.
I was doing all the right things — staying active, working out regularly, pushing myself to stay strong and manage pain. But underneath the effort, something wasn’t working.
My body reached a point where effort stopped producing results. Patterns I didn’t even know I had began to take over. I was stuck between pushing harder and feeling shut down… and neither brought relief.
If things were going to change, I had to stop guessing and start learning. That learning started with awareness — noticing what I was actually doing instead of what I thought I was doing.
When Movement Became a Problem to Solve
When I began the process of healing my body, movement wasn’t a sanctuary or a spiritual practice.
It was a problem to solve.
My pain was escalating. My compensations were taking over. Massage, chiropractic, cupping therapy, electrical stimulation, acupuncture, functional movement and prehab protocols, complicated stretching and SMR routines, gadgets and tools — nothing created lasting change.
So I became determined. Obsessed, really.
I believed I could solve my pain by relearning movement from the ground up, and I treated that mission like the most important project of my life.
Looking back, this was the beginning of a classic Hero’s Journey — not the romantic version, but the real one. The kind where what used to work stops working. Where you’re forced out of the familiar. Where you step forward without knowing if there will be success or utter failure.
If you’re reading this and wondering where your own patterns are coming from, I created a short Body Quiz to help you identify how your body may be compensating. → Take the Body Quiz
When I Had to Start From Scratch
Rebuilding required precision:
slowing down enough to feel the real pattern
learning how the body is designed to share force like a suspension bridge
stepping away from running, HIIT, and heavy lifting
stopping an exercise the moment my form broke
practicing daily with discipline and curiosity
At the time, I felt broken. And, honestly, I worried about gaining weight. I worried about losing muscle. I worried that if I stopped pushing, everything I had built would disappear.
What I didn’t understand then was that I was starting from scratch — and that I needed to.
I wasn’t rebuilding to look better. I was rebuilding because I wanted to feel in control of my body again. I refused to accept constant aches and pain as “just part of getting older.”
Slowly, my motivation shifted.
The Practice That Changed Everything
As pain forced me to show up for my movement practice day after day, I became almost addicted to that block of time where I could just be with myself — where I could focus on deepening my control of my body.
At first, my sessions weren’t intense. Most days I didn’t even break a sweat. But I felt like an explorer — on an inward adventure. My relationship with pain began to change. I felt hope.
The pain gradually faded. And in its place, I discovered that I genuinely enjoyed building movement skills: loaded mobility, balance, coordination. Every day brought something new. It was exhilarating.
Now it’s been five years of moving every. single. day. It’s part of who I am.
There’s no routine to follow. No expectations. I show up on the floor and drop into my body to see what it needs. I start slow. And often, without planning to, I end up moving into something challenging — work that demands balance, mobility, coordination, and deep nervous system control.
My pain is now zero. I don’t get injured. If something feels off, I know how to correct it. I know what my body can do. I know what it can’t.
And I don’t have anything to prove.
What I Want for You
If you work with me, I want you to know this:
I’m not here as someone who avoided the dark. I’m here as someone who went into it, stayed long enough to learn, and came back with something useful.
Sometimes there is no way around pain. You must confront it. And when you do, you can treat it not as a threat to escape, but as an adventure — one that asks you to pay attention.
You learn.
You educate yourself.
You experiment.
You move forward.
You make it your own.
And in the process, you discover yourself.
If you want guidance through this process — education, experimentation, and rebuilding in a way that’s specific to your body — you can learn more about working with me here.
→ Work with Me
