Have you ever heard the Ram Das quote, “If you think you’re enlightened, go spend a week with your family"? 

Boy, do I feel that one.

In this week’s Peeking Behind the Curtain, the question being asked is this: what strategies did you implement to work through this trauma, and did you have to walk away from your family in order to heal?

I’ll answer the second part first.

You know that feeling in life when you're going through something and you think that you’re all alone in it?

That nobody has ever experienced this same exact thing before?

That nobody could possibly relate or understand, or maybe that even if you tried to explain it, the words wouldn’t come out right?

At some point in our lives, we all feel this way.

We’ve all had moments when looking to our past feels… a little heavier than we expected. 

For some of us, that's because the past WAS heavy, but I hope to share in my upcoming book, Everything Makes Perfect Sense: A Journey Through Childhood Trauma, Healing, and Forgiveness, that it doesn't have to stay that way. 

The sting (or gut punch) of the past can fade. And most importantly, it doesn't have to dictate your future. 

Welcome back to Week 2 of Peaking Behind the Curtain. 

For those just tuning in, for the next few weeks I'll be answering one question per week about my upcoming book, Everything Makes Perfect Sense, out October 14th! 

These questions originally came from my publisher for a press release, but I thought you might like to see my answers too.

In just 8 weeks, a big, five-and-a-half-year journey will finally come to an end.

My book—my memoir—Everything Makes Perfect Sense: A Journey Through Childhood Trauma, Healing, and Forgiveness, will be available to the public.

In preparation for launch day, my publisher, Warren Publishing, sent me seven questions about the writing process to help craft a press release.

Last weekend, as I drove along the Blue Ridge Parkway in Western North Carolina, overlooking a vast sea of forest, I thought to myself, “this looks familiar.”

Yes, I've been living in the area for a little more than a year now, but I had no idea where we were or where we were headed. 

I was driving two friends to a trailhead that one of them had suggested while letting the GPS guide the way. We'd be driving for about an hour and for the last 20 minutes, I kept thinking, “I’ve been here before. I know these turns, I’ve seen these vistas. I wonder…”

Guess what?! This past month, my slow-growing rubber plant sprouted three new leaves! 🌱

It was incredible to watch them unfold — one after the other after the other.

But just a few months ago, it wasn’t like this at all.

For nine whole months, there was no new growth. Nothing.

Have you ever heard the saying, “How do you know you’re on the right path? Because the path disappears.”

That quote has always bugged me. I mean, how much more frustrating can it get?

If I’m doing the right thing, shouldn’t it be obvious that it’s the right thing to do? — screams my Inner Child.

This week marks three years since I started writing these biweekly blog posts.

In that time, you’ve followed along as I’ve shared stories about traveling, relationships, EFT tapping, gut health remedies, attachment styles, spirituality, astrology, meditations, journaling prompts, cross-country moves, Hurricane Helene, nervous system healing—and of course, the ever-present trio: Inner Critic, Inner Child, and Adult-Self. 

It’s been a wild, beautiful ride. 

When I was 23, in my last year of college, I completely blew out my foot. 

Now, what exactly does it mean to “blow out” your foot?

It means that for four and a half years, I’d been physically pushing myself to my limits.

I trained six days a week for years and on most weekends ran (mostly sprinting) more than most people do in their entire lives.

It was insane 🤪

Just yesterday, a good friend confided something big to me.

 She told me something she had never told anyone before.

(And before you freak out—yes, she gave me full permission to share this with you.)

Now, I’m not going to spill the exact details, but I will say this: it was something that had haunted her for most of her life.

 But this friend? She’s not your average Jane.

Last weekend, I was catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen in forever. 

As we were chatting, he opened up about how rough 2025 has been for him so far. 

Naturally, I shared some of my own struggles from the past few months—and that’s when I gently brought up astrology… to someone who doesn’t believe in astrology. 😅

Thankfully, he didn’t roll his eyes (at least not out loud 😉) and let me explain.

Last week, I was working with a client—let’s call her Sarah.
Sarah had been dealing with some health issues and was pretty scared when her doctor told her she needed more tests. 🩺

Like most of us would, she went down a very scary rabbit hole on the internet and convinced herself that her prognosis wasn’t good. 

Her Inner Child was in overdrive—scared, overthinking, and analyzing every possible worst-case scenario. And of course, that kind of mental stress is the last thing her body needed while trying to heal. ❤️‍🩹

A few years ago, while working with a social media and book coach, she said something interesting. 

She told me “romanticize your life.” ❤️

At first, I thought she meant, wine and dine myself and simply laughed it off as another cliche. 

But over time this idea has morphed and changed and today during my meditation, it came to me again.

What if we all fell in love with our lives?

Life’s been pretty stressful lately, hasn’t it?

All around the United States, folks are facing some tough stuff. People have lost jobs or seen crucial funding for farms, research, and humanitarian projects disappear. 

Many are afraid for their lives—because of their gender, sexuality, citizenship status, or the color of their skin. 

We’re witnessing information being erased right in front of us.

Personally, I’ve seen trauma survivor stories vanish from federally funded websites.

There’s a lot happening right now, and regardless of your political beliefs, the tension is undeniable.

The other day, I started working with a new client. Like most first sessions, she shared everything that wasn’t working in her life.

 She didn’t like the way she sometimes reacted to her family. She felt overwhelmed by emotions and exhausted from constantly trying to prove she was good enough.

I listened, then said: "I get it. And I’m guessing everything you just described makes absolute perfect sense."

She looked at me skeptically—like I’d lost my mind.

The other day, I walked into a restaurant here in Asheville, and standing in front of me in line was a new friend of mine. 

We exchanged smiles, said hello, hugged, caught up briefly, and then went our separate ways.

This might seem like a small moment, but for me, it was monumental. 

It was the first time since moving to Asheville back in June that something like this had happened—running into someone I know.

A historical moment, really. 

Last week, I went out to coffee with my friend Taylor. She was feeling pretty nervous because she knew she had to have a hard conversation with someone—and, honestly, she wasn’t looking forward to it. She didn’t know how or when to bring it up, was worried about how she might come across, and was bracing herself for the other person’s potential reaction. Now, isn't that relatable?

Five years ago, at 5:30 a.m. on New Year's Day 🎉 I drove home from a friend's house, my head spinning with ideas.

Long into the night, we had been deep in conversations about my childhood.

Though we’d known each other for years, I’d never shared those parts of my life with her—or with most people. 

Luckily for me, she's a therapist, but unknown to me, she also specializes in the type of abuse I'd experienced.

I usually don’t send emails two weeks in a row, but on Christmas Eve, sitting in my best friend’s living room, surrounded by Christmas cheer, I felt moved to connect with you.

Earlier this week, I drove 8.5 hours through four different states—all the way to Cleveland, Ohio. 

The journey was filled with beautiful landscapes: rolling hills, cozy farmhouses, snow-covered forests, and flowing rivers.