The Mess and The Masterpiece

I am a mess and a masterpiece.

This healing journey, this wild, sacred spiral of self-love and enlightenment,is not some tidy, linear path with a destination called “done.” No. Healing doesn’t come with a graduation cap. It comes with tears, unravelings, deep exhalations, and sometimes… pastries.

I’ve been walking this path for years, and it still surprises me. There are days I wake up at 5 a.m., roll out my mat, breathe, meditate, move, and affirm my light into existence. I am a yogi, because yoga is not what I do, it’s how I live. I coach, I hold space, I guide others toward the same peace I once thought was impossible.

I became certified in the very practices that brought me back to life—Reiki, meditation, yoga, hypnosis, breathwork, EFT—because I needed people to know: You are not broken. You are powerful. These tools found me when I was crumbling, when death felt closer than hope. I joke that I kept a toothbrush at Death’s house. I visited often. But somehow, grace kept sending me back.

So now, I live. I give. I love. I teach.

But let me be real: even with all my rituals and mantras, there are days I am a full-blown, glorious mess. I don’t always sleep well, thank you, hormones and Texas heat. Sometimes I eat croissants like they’re therapy. I cry at commercials. I get irritated in traffic and sometimes I am the slow driver you're irritated with (sorry, I’m just vibing to 528 Hz and minding my chakras).

And still, I rise.

Because even on my messiest days, I remember: I am human. And humanity, in all its chaos and contradiction, is holy. We are both a sacred masterpiece and a beautiful work in progress at the same time.

That’s the magic.
That’s the medicine.
That’s the journey.