From Survival to Essence: How I Found My Way Back

I didn’t expect to rebuild my life. Honestly, I didn’t expect to still have one.

The last few years dismantled me in ways I’m still finding language for. It wasn’t one crisis — it was a chain of them: selling the house, uprooting everything, caregiving around the clock, nearly losing my own life, and then losing my father.

There were moments I felt like a ghost in my own story. Moments when everything familiar was stripped away. Moments when the next breath felt like the only thing I could manage.

And yet, something held.

When everything else fell apart

My body failed. My energy failed. My sense of direction failed.

But my faith didn’t.

I don’t talk about this loudly, and I don’t wield it like a banner — but God was the one constant in that entire season. When I say I had a “rock,” I mean it literally. My faith held me in place when everything else shook loose.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t emotional. It was more like a deep, steady knowing:

You’re not alone in this. Keep breathing. One more day.

That’s what roots me. That’s how the roots go deep.

Life after the bottom drops out

After my dad died and the years of caregiving suddenly ended, the world got very quiet. Not peaceful — just quiet in a way that felt hollow and unfamiliar.

I didn’t know who I was without responsibility. I didn’t know how to make plans again. I didn’t know how to live without feeling like something might collapse again.

But underneath everything — grief, exhaustion, fear — was that same steady thread of faith. Something in me stayed connected to God in the simplest possible way: not through routines or rituals, but through presence.

A quiet, wordless, I’m here.

And a quiet, wordless So am I.

The beginning I didn’t recognize at first

On May 11, 2025, I sat at my computer — not to return to work, but because I needed clarity. I needed a map. I needed a way to think again.

What came out of that moment was the first seed of CleanEFT™.

It wasn’t a grand plan. It wasn’t ambition. It wasn’t a “comeback.”

It was a whisper: Maybe you’re ready. Maybe there’s life after this.

Looking back, I can see it clearly: that moment wasn’t just me trying to organize my thoughts — it was the first green shoot after a long winter. A sign of life. A sign of God’s timing. A sign that the roots really had held.

Rebuilding from essence, not survival

This time, rebuilding felt different.

I wasn’t hustling. I wasn’t striving. I wasn’t trying to create a life that looked good on paper.

I was listening — to myself, to God, to what felt true.

Little by little, clarity returned. Little by little, strength returned. Little by little, my work reshaped itself into something quieter, deeper, and more aligned with who I’ve become.

Clean Language, EFT (“Tapping”), exquisite listening — all of it became a way of participating in healing, not forcing it.

A way of partnering with what God was already doing inside me.

A life that fits now

I’m alive again — but in a new way.

Not frantic. Not performative. Not pushing.

Alive in a grounded, rooted, quietly resilient way.

Alive in a way that could only come after everything unnecessary was burned off.

Alive with God at the center — not as an idea, but as the anchor that held when nothing else did.

And if you’re in your own season of unraveling, caregiving, grief, exhaustion, or starting over… here’s what I know now:

When everything falls away, the roots you’ve grown in God will hold. And from those roots, new life does come.

I’m living mine. And I’m grateful — deeply, quietly grateful — to be here.