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I see you mama, staying busy, always caring for others. You work to support or help support your family, and then you work to run your family in your "off" hours. You've accepted that this is just the way it is because you're surrounded by other women who are stuck in the same cycle chasing achievement after achievement. And those achievements absolutely feel good. But let's pause for a moment to consider what's on the other side of that next goal once you hit it. Think abou

I’m training to never need back surgery again (knock on wood, I'm problem-free since 2024). I'm controlling what I can control, building muscle and stability and hope. I’m training to be able to lift my 40 lb. toddler and carry him around. Those days are numbered, but I want them to last as long as possible. I’m training so I have more capacity in my body to help others on their wellness journey. I teach 9+ yoga classes a week and need to be able to keep my energy up for ever

Peace is a choice. It really is. But the tricky part is, sometimes your window to make that choice is infinitesimal. The split second between the sound of your toddler spilling milk for the third time in an hour and you yelling in reaction. The moment after your jerk co-worker says something rude and you choose (verbal) violence. The blink of an eye from when you get an upsetting text to when you start angrily typing out a response. These decision points are fleeting, so fast

Well, I knew nothing outside of watching the Olympics on TV and maybe the toe pick scene from Cutting Edge. So when I was approached about helping a small group of competitive figure skaters increase their flexibility, I said yes to the sessions, but also to researching, planning, and educating myself on the sport. And quickly. Did I lace up my skates and hit the ice? Absolutely ... not. I have a touchy spine and a tenuous relationship with slippery surfaces. And an injured

I saw a fitness influencer post recently that her biggest fear after having kids was stubborn belly fat and a mom pooch that would never go away. A flashback hit me hard, to my own postpartum period after my second child was born when I spent hours and days crying on the bathroom floor. I don't know why, but I had to go there and sob for solid lengths of time. The cold, hard surface was weirdly soothing and real. Crying in bed would just not do for the kind of visceral darkne

There it was, crawling quickly across a mini mountain in the cat litter box as I did the necessary cleaning tasks. I stared it down. I gripped the poop scoop tightly, ready to squash this tiny agent of terror in this rather unexpected location. My hand hovered. And I watched it crawl away from me unscathed. I am terrified of spiders, and I can't possibly explain why. I'm big, they're (usually) small. Most of them mean no harm. But their legs gross me out and the sight of one