I started my healing journey when I was 52. Just a few years ago.

For so long I told myself I was fine. I pushed through, worked hard, stayed busy, and kept going because that is what I thought strong people did. On the outside I held it together. On the inside I felt like I was carrying the weight of a lifetime.

At 52 something in me finally said enough. I realized I could not keep living on autopilot, disconnected from my own body and heart. That was the beginning of my healing journey, though I did not know what it would look like at the time.

Healing has not been easy. There are days I feel strong, calm, and grateful. There are other days I feel like I am starting over from the very beginning. What I have learned is that healing is not something you check off a list. It is a lifelong journey. Some days are heavy, some days are light, but all of them matter.

My husband Michael has been by my side through it all. A walk with him, holding hands, talking, or just being quiet together can calm me more than anything else. Love has been one of the most healing forces in my life.

I have also found that small choices shape the way I heal. Drinking my hydrogen water in the morning before anything else. Sitting with my coffee instead of rushing through. Letting myself rest when I am tired instead of pushing harder. These little moments remind me that healing is not always about doing more but about noticing what helps and choosing it again and again.

Walking my own healing journey has taught me that there is no perfect way to do this work. There is only showing up. There is only choosing every day to return to myself and trust that each step, even the shaky ones, is leading me somewhere new.