Healing Never Ends: My Journey Through Fear, Release, and Renewal

Sep 23

This is my personal healing story. It’s not medical advice—please consult with a qualified healthcare professional before making any changes to your own medications or treatment plan.

Sometimes healing surprises us—not in the ways we expect, but in the places we’ve been most afraid to look.

After months of flares that left me drained, this night pushed me to the edge. Two weeks ago, I had quite a scare. I woke in the middle of the night with my throat and nose swelling, my vision blurred, and my heart racing so fast I thought I might collapse. Fear surged through me as I woke my husband from a deep sleep.

True to who he is, he jumped immediately into action. He was ready to call an ambulance, but first, as a doctor of chiropractic and a man who knows me deeply, he tried to calm the storm. We checked my blood sugar—it was elevated—so he had me drink a big glass of water. He did some pressure point work and guided me back into my breath. The swelling didn’t vanish, but my racing heart settled enough for me to eventually rest.

I am endlessly grateful for my husband—for his quick thinking, for his calm hands, and for being the anchor I can lean on when fear takes hold.

It was terrifying. And yet, it was also a turning point.

Facing What I Had Avoided

Earlier that same day, after weeks of barely being able to function, we had sat down together to ask: what’s next? Over seven years, I have tried everything—diet changes, adding medications, taking away medications, supplements, acupuncture, herbs, cleanses. You name it, I’ve done it.

But there was one thing I had always refused to try: stopping the compounded thyroid medication I was on. Every time someone suggested it, I shut it down. Not because I didn’t know it was possible, but because of something deeper.

That resistance was rooted in the echoes of old abuse—the mental and emotional manipulation I lived through for so many years. The constant harping on my weight. The lies that said I was only worthy if I was thin, fit, “perfect.” Even after healing PTSD and reclaiming so many parts of myself, that old weight obsession clung to me.

When I first started compounded thyroid medication, my weight dropped and stabilized. And in my mind, that felt safe—even if my body was screaming otherwise.

But here’s the truth: the most I have ever weighed as a 5’3” woman with curves is 135 lbs. That is not overweight. Yet I let the abuser’s voice convince me that even 120 lbs was something to panic over, because it wasn’t the 105 lbs I had been in my twenties. Looking back, it’s heartbreaking—and eye-opening—to see how deeply those lies had taken root.

“Your body will always tell the truth, even when your mind is still tangled in old lies.”

The Turning Point

That night’s health scare showed me clearly: I could no longer keep living this way. My body was crying out. The MCAS was now affecting my internal organs. It was time.
So the next morning, I did what I had never allowed myself to do—I didn’t take the thyroid medication. And something incredible happened.

By the end of that day, the hives that had covered me for so long eased. The inflammation and nervous system agitation that had been ruling my life melted away. My brain fog lifted. My energy rose.

The next day, I woke with only a few small hives that disappeared quickly. I felt clear, strong, alive. That weekend, I spent four days running after my two-year-old granddaughter. Normally, that much activity would leave me utterly exhausted or sick. But this time was different—I felt incredible.

Then I took it a step further. I stopped the other compounded medication I was on—LDN, which I had started when the MCAS began. I wondered if it wasn’t the thyroid medication itself, but something in the compounding process. That was a week ago, and since then, I’ve had no signs of MCAS.

A New Chapter

For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been working out every day. My energy levels are steady. My focus is sharp. My excitement for life is back. I feel like I’ve been handed a new body—and a new chance.

The contrast is almost unbelievable. Just days earlier, I was losing hope. I felt like I was disappearing, like even my spirituality was slipping away. My nightly practice had fallen away, my shamanic classwork was impossible to focus on. I even slipped into imposter syndrome, questioning my gifts and my path.

And now—I feel like a new woman. Strong. Clear. Present. Hopeful.

This weekend, I took this picture of myself that captures this shift. To think that less than two weeks earlier I looked drained, sick, barely able to function—and now I looked vibrant, alive, even beautiful. My arms and legs still carry reminders of the months of scratching and sores, but my skin is no longer fiery red. My face looks lit up. I walked into a client’s party feeling like me again—so much so that I received compliments on how radiant I looked, even compared to women younger than me. The photo isn’t perfect, but it captures something far more important—the light and vitality I feel inside.

When the body suffers, it can dim even the brightest spiritual flame. And when the body finds relief, the spirit rises again—stronger and steadier.

Yes, it’s sobering to think I suffered for seven years because I was too afraid of gaining a few pounds. But it’s also part of my story. And part of my healing.

Because healing never ends.

The Wisdom in the Wounds

One of my shamanic mentors told me earlier this summer that there was still a link to my past abuse. He was right. Sometimes, healing doesn’t show up as a flashing sign. It shows up in subtle ways, in old fears we finally face, in medicines we finally release, in choices we finally claim for ourselves.

The truth is, I wouldn’t be here without the struggle. The wisdom, the compassion, the practice I now carry into the world—it was forged in the fire of these years.

And now, with each day that my body grows stronger, I feel the same happening within my spirit. I am catching up on life, yes—but I am also stepping more fully into the work I am here to do.

“Resilience is born not in the absence of struggle, but in the choice to keep rising through it.”

Healing never ends, because healing is not just about recovery. It’s about becoming.

Lessons This Journey Has Taught Me

Listen to your body’s whispers before they become screams.
Old wounds can keep us stuck until we’re willing to face them.
Healing asks for courage, curiosity, and compassion.
Support systems matter—don’t walk through it alone.
Healing is not just physical—it’s a path of the soul reclaiming its light.

An Invitation to You

So many of us carry echoes of old voices—beliefs planted in us long ago—that still shape how we treat our bodies today. My story is about MCAS, but the truth is, we all have our version of this struggle. And we all have the chance to set ourselves free.

Whether your struggle looks like mine or takes a completely different form, the truth is the same: healing asks us to face what we fear most, and it always carries us somewhere new.

If you are walking through your own journey of chronic illness, healing, or old wounds, know this—your body is always whispering. Your spirit is always guiding. And sometimes, the hardest thing to face is not the illness itself, but the beliefs that keep us from listening to our own truth.

So I ask you:
What beliefs or old stories are you ready to release so your body and spirit can step into freedom?

May your healing guide you not only back to yourself, but forward into the radiant being you were always meant to become.

Two weeks ago I was barely surviving; today I am thriving. And tomorrow, I trust, will carry even more light.

May we remember: healing never ends—and that is its greatest beauty.

Brightest Blessings,