Blog

I drove home from my family reunion in June feeling about seven years old. I was only there for three days, and yet that's all it took for me to embody roles I thought I'd outgrown decades ago. Insecurities from my past that I’d sworn were dealt with suddenly came to the surface.

Recently, I sat down with one of my mentors and cried over letting go of a goal I've been carrying for years. Nothing had physically ended because the community gathering I was grieving still happens monthly. What ended was my vision of what I wanted it to be.

Here we are halfway through the year and I'm not where I'd expected to be. Back in January, when I stepped away from my live monthly breathwork ceremonies, I told everyone (and myself) that it was a six-month hiatus. Come summer, I'd reopen the doors. I was so sure of that.

I started this year feeling like I'd come through a birth canal. That might sound dramatic, but it's the closest thing to the truth. Last year was one of the most challenging years I've had in a really a long time.

I recently traveled to Florida, and part of the trip included hosting a breathwork session for a local community. We planned it as an outdoor event, because, well, it's Florida. All day, the weather apps showed nothing but clear skies. We checked and re-checked. Clear skies. Clear skies. We set up outside. People arrived, laid out their mats, and got comfortable. Five minutes after we started, it poured.

I'm always a little surprised when people don't make a big deal about their birthdays. You know, the kind of people who shrug it off with, "Oh, just another day." Meanwhile, I'm over here shouting, "It's my birthday! It's my birthday MONTH."