So you don’t repeat affirmations until you’re blue in the face.
You don’t understand vibrating at the frequency of the thing you want.
You don’t even meditate.
But you are still REALLY good at manifesting.

How?

The real engine of manifestation is much less glamorous or woo-woo, and much more simple: manifestation is the cumulation of the actions you take every single day that unfold into the life you experience in the next moment, the next day, the next month, the next year, or the next decade.

Let me show you what I mean.

Chicken Fried Rice vs. The Long Game

Let me say it plainly: we are always manifesting. Every moment, we’re turning one thing into another—that’s how creation works. When you take raw chicken and turn it into chicken fried rice, that’s a manifestation. It’s almost instant. You wanted dinner, you made dinner. Done.

But most manifestations don’t work on a dinner timeline. You can set something in motion—through a choice, a gut feeling, a simple decision— and you might not see the effect for years. This is why the frequency-matching, the vision boarding, the mindset work is only half the story. The other half is aligned actions repeated consistently over time—like… scrolling through Craigslist job openings.

That’s how this story begins, at least.

The Ad That Felt Different

Sixteen years ago, I was scanning through job listings for my fiance—now, husband. I came across an ad for a green energy company. It looked like every other posting on the page—same format, same level of experience needed, same attractive income promise—but something about it caught my attention. It was a nudge, a tingle in my belly, a knowing. My body responded to it.

Therefore, me being a good partner who was stressed about how we were going to pay next month’s rent, I pushed him to apply. He got the interview and crushed it (thanks to being an Eagle Scout!). And ultimately got the job—selling solar panels.

Then we made millions of dollars, bought a Pinterest-worthy home, and lived happily every after. Right?

Nope, it wasn’t a fairy tale. In fact, he struggled for a couple of years—doing the solar panel hustle—and eventually quit. He pivoted to serving tables and directing at a summer camp. But then—the universe testing us—he got invited back to the same company, this time for a different role.

Truthfully, selling bathrooms, windows, and doors wasn’t all that much better. He still had to drive all over god’s creation, earn his way into a stranger’s home, and walk them through why they needed more efficient sliding doors or a complete bathroom makeover. And if you know my husband, convincing someone to do something is just against his Libra personality.

So back to working at camp he went. He was happy, but I was still working retail full time while taking health coaching clients in the evenings, and we were racking up major credit card debt. The situation we created was not sustainable.

Like REALLY unsustainable—I hit burnout and quit my job, and then we moved in with my parents.

One Last Test

Thank goddess the universe wasn’t done with us yet.

While living with my parents, my husband got one more call from the same company he had worked for twice, and this time the owner was especially excited and hopeful for their next endeavor. He invited my husband back to work with him, more as a partner to figure it out together, and expressed how he appreciate his work ethic and easy going demeanor.

This felt right.

And that’s when it started to click. Fewer hours on the road. No more cringy sales pitches. Achieving financial security in the first year. And a whole lot less stress. He found a job that allowed both of us to breathe again, and a boss that makes him feel like a partner. Heck, we even moved out of my parents’ house!

What started as a generic job listing became a decade-long friendship, and catalyst on our journey towards freedom.

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The Manifestation

Here’s what people miss when they think manifestation as only receiving: my husband’s job stability wasn’t just for him. It gave our family unit the financial flexibility so I could explore, learn, and build something meaningful on the side.

Because of his job—stemming from my pull towards the ad—I have been able to:

• Skip the traditional 9-to-5 career route

• Quit my full-time job to get my 200-hour yoga teacher certification

• Work as a health coach, personal trainer & yoga teacher

• Take clients slowly, on my own schedule

• Spend multiple hours a week—for over a decade—acquiring new certifications

• Take unpaid maternity leave, twice

• Decide to homeschool our kids, now 8 and 4

• Travel to cool places, like Cabo, Kauai, Maui, Greece, and all over the U.S.

• And after 21 years of focusing on other people’s health, finally turn that attention toward myself—now, at almost 40, in what feels like a brand new era.

None of this could’ve happened if my husband was still jumping from job to job, and I was working my 9-5 at a running store. In fact, I would still be working a “real job” with a “real paycheck” if I didn’t feel the safety from his new gig.

So even though so many others were involved, I know I personally set this manifestation into motion when I found that random Craigslist ad, and encouraged my husband to take action (because someone has to take action to make the needle move). And, since that day, we’ve co-created our beautiful life with one another and the universe.

Acknowledge Every Step Along The Way

This is the part I want you to soak in.

We are all trained for immediate gratification—chasing boosts of dopamine like validation drug addicts. We want the meditation to cure our anxiety. We want the new year’s vision board to cash out by February. And when we don’t get what we want, when we want it, we assume manifestation isn’t real, or isn’t working, or isn’t for us. And we quit.

But remember, some manifestations are as simple as chicken fried rice. And some are a decade-long unfolding that started with a gut feeling and an interview. The difference isn’t whether you’re manifesting correctly—it’s whether you can trust the pull when it doesn’t come with an instant reward or easy explanation attached.

When your gut says this one—even though it looks exactly like everything else or completely different than anything else you’ve experienced—that’s the moment. Don’t get sucked into analysis paralysis, and instead take aligned action—no matter how small the step.

Tips For Trusting

Here’s my advice after 16+ years of trusting my intuitive pull:

Get out of your own head. Stop meditating on the same intention, affirming the same sentence over and over, waiting for the moment to feel just right before you move. Get out into the world instead. Start noticing what’s around you. Take small, unglamorous action—apply for the job, send the message, make the call, sign up for the course—instead of just thinking about it. Or worse, making a pros-cons list.

Your inner voice isn’t always the voice of reason. Sometimes she’s whispers from your highest self—pure, brave, confident. Other times she’s hissing false warnings from your ego—protecting you from shame, pain, or failure. But taking small actions builds your self trust and self worth, and the more of those you have, the easier it is to take the next action.

Timing Remember: the action might pay off in five days. Maybe in fifty. Maybe in a decade. But you won’t get to look back and understand why or how it worked unless you actually do something today.

Next, get into your body. My body nudged me to choose the right Craigslist ad. My body told me I was safe when I saw our financial situation change for the better. My body led me towards the path of certifications that gave me the tools to help hundreds of people over the last 15 years in holistic health, mindfulness, and movement.

Your nervous system innervates every inch of your body, and even if you are sick of hearing about nervous system regulation, the truth is: your nervous system is your greatest ally in manifestation. It lets you know when things are dangerous, when things are unfamiliar, and when things are the right choice. It’s trainable—you can teach it to feel safe in new situations, and strengthen it’s tolerance to challenges.

Become friends with your body, and your nervous system. Become fluent in its language, observing how it likes to communicate with you, and how to differentiate true danger from learned response patterns, like quitting before you succeed or fearing change because it takes away your control.

It’s Your Turn

Before you close this tab, do one thing. Think of the one thing you've been "meaning to do"—the application you haven't submitted, the message you haven't sent, the class you haven't signed up for, the person you haven't called back, the trip you haven’t booked. How do you feel when you think about taking this step?

Ready to fight? Go shake, stomp, or do a workout.
Ready to run away? Take a walk or dance to your favorite song.
Want to avoid dealing with it? Approach it head-on, exposing yourself to the discomfort slowly.

And if it’s a big, scary dream you’ve been saving for when things finally chill out, then start with a super small, boring first step that looks like nothing. Whatever you want to do, go do that one thing today. Don't journal about it for weeks. Don't wait until you feel ready. And don’t wait for someone to give you permission. Just take aligned action—and [LISTEN!] let go of any attachment to a result. You may not know why you did it for years, like me. That's fine. At least you set the wheel in motion today.

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I write to you from my home, after a week away at the beach. I would call it a vacation, but—as only people with children truly understand—a trip to the beach is no vacation, instead it’s an adventure that requires you to be a snack sherpa, lifeguard, chauffeur, personal chef, housekeeper, and personal fun facilitator.

Once I heard someone describe it as “being at home, but with more sand.” And I felt that.

In all seriousness, it was exactly what I needed to unplug from the daily grind that was starting to feel like a hamster wheel spinning at maximum speed. Nine weeks of summer zoomed by in the blink of an eye with the constant keeping up with camp lunches, endless laundry, backyard gatherings, and running my busy holistic health and fitness coaching business.

I can feel the heat rising in my chest just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the beach.

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Monday morning. No alarm. No traffic to sit in. Heck, no pants if I felt like it.
I wasn’t at home anymore and it smelled like french toast casserole and ocean air. This is exactly what I needed. A change of environment, pace, and rhythm to reflect on where I was in my “real life.”

That first homemade matcha while watching the waves crash from our oceanfront deck was all I needed to protect this week. I took one client call on day one—since my old pattern was working while on vacation because I feared I wouldn’t be able to catch up when I got back—and then cancelled all sessions for the rest of my week. My body and mind switched over to “vacation mode.” I couldn’t focus on anything other than getting kids sun-screened and beach snacks packed. And honestly, I didn’t want to focus on anything else. For heaven’s sake, I brought a novel with me to read instead of a personal development book! VACATION MODE!

This week came at exactly the right time. I pushed back my last call with my business mentor to have more time between sessions to gain clarity [on my brand, identity, whatever you want to call it]. But life had been so chaotic that I didn’t have a quiet moment—okay, life is never truly quiet with kids 8 and under—to hear myself speak the answer to the question: what do I actually want?

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Up until now I’ve chased random goals—financial, professional, intellectual, milestone. All the things that validated my intelligence and outward success. And up until now I have been fighting a lingering dissatisfaction with life. That might sound dramatic, but most people just learn to live in a state of unhappiness and discontent; that’s why psychiatric meds are so popular in our modern culture.

The dissatisfaction isn’t because I haven’t hit $30k months in my business (yet!), or haven’t gotten my 6-pack abs back after kids… it’s MISALIGNMENT.

When you live your life out of alignment with your authentic code—which changes throughout your life—you are trapped in a constant tug-o-war battle between what you desire and what you’re doing in your everyday life.

Instead of feeling the suffocating pain of wearing the shell of a life that no longer fits, you numb. Personally, I LOVE to doom scroll and online window shop to distract myself from feeling any level of shittyness. To avoid having to do something different in my life, because different is unfamiliar, and unfamiliar is even more uncomfortable despite it’s potential.

In yoga, the subconscious pattern is called a samskara (groove). And each time you react via your samskara—intentionally or habitually—you dig it deeper. Harder to fill, therefore harder to heal.

But not impossible.

Once you decide enough is enough, and you want to live differently, then all it takes is a new choice—a single degree away from your groove. Because, just like a spiral, moving one degree away (a different choice) will create distance for the next time you loop back around to the similar experience. Distance inherently creates space; space creates detachment; and detachment creates objectivity.

Back to the beach—while flowing in the new rhythm of beach life, I became open to the idea that something needed to change on the outside for something bigger to shift on the inside.

And holy shit, did the answer arrive.

** insert drum roll here **

The messaged I kept receiving was: I don’t want to work, anymore.

To be honest, it was hard to hear as a life-long hustler. Work has been part of my identity since I was a young child (the eldest daughter of 4 children), so much that I have struggled to sit still my entire life. There is always so much to do! But—thanks to my HOME BODY somatic method—I was able to sit with the feeling of discomfort long enough for it to pass and gain clarity on the truth under the initial fight or flight response.

I don’t want to work, anymore.

My ego hated this feeling. Work was equal to productivity, success, professional & personal validation. I refused to be a stay-at-home mom, even when I decided to homeschool my kids! And yet, the more I repeated the message, the more it settled in my body, and the more I felt a wave of relief. I shared the message with my husband. I shared it with a close friend. I reflected on it in my journal.

Was I having a midlife crisis? No.

This felt like the beginning of my midlife reset, when women (and men) reclaim forgotten parts of themselves and fuse them together with their current authentic code to create an artistic masterpiece… similar to the ancient Japanese practice of wabi sabi (soldering broken ceramics back together with gold).

THIS IS THE ENERGY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW FOR EVERYONE—but not everyone will be aware [or brave] enough to lean into it. In my post about midlife identity restoration, when going through a midlife reset, you must first grieve the version of yourself you are leaving behind. Please do the practice I shared in that post, especially if you’re feeling a life-size shift this season.

Please note, I am not taking that message and using it to quit my entire life cold turkey so I can eat bonbons while watching soap operas all day, everyday. Instead, it’s a catalyst for my new life—with my family, with my passions, with MY health, and maybe with or without the health and fitness clientele I’ve built over the last 20 years.

And once I decided it was possible… the universe said, “okay, let’s see if you mean it.”

Monday morning—one week after the message came through—my alarm went off for work. I was out of my routine from being at the beach, so naturally I rolled over and checked my phone. Two texts.

One from my first client saying that he was sick and needed to cancel.
Another from my second client saying that he lost hi wallet and needed to cancel.

And just like that, my day cleared. No work.

An older version of me would’ve scrambled to make up those sessions, to make up the cash flow. But I chose to exhale, instead. A full day to recover from vacation. To move slowly with the kids. To reset.

Ahhhhhh, so this is what “I don’t want to work, anymore” feels like.

Gimme more of that.

A Final Note:

Some would say this is some first-world-luxury BS, but I beg to differ. Every choice I’ve made has led me here. The job I found for my husband 15 years ago that has gifted him time flexibility to be a present partner and dad, enough income to financially support our family, and life-long friends whom we travel with. His income has allowed me to quit jobs to pursue my health coaching, yoga teacher, and somatic life coach careers… to build businesses… to feel safe. I called this in. I chose the harder paths. I learned to trust along the way.

I am grateful to be able to share the beginning of this story—of the next chapter of my life. Our lives.

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You don’t have to cancel all your plans or escape to a tropical oasis. Just make time to sit and reflect (something MOST people avoid doing) on what this summer has offered you—both the hard and the joyful.

Saturday is 8/8—the Lion’s Gate portal—a moment we’ve been building towards since 7/7. And even if you’re not in this kind of out-of-this world kinda thing, you’re still going to feel this moment on the calendar. The energy is rising. Things are boiling up to the surface. Old, crusty layers are peeling off [like your dry, sunburned skin] whether you want them to or not.

FYI, the Lion's Gate happens every year on 8/8, when a specific cosmic alignment opens up what us woo-woo people describe as a “portal” for clarity, release, and new beginnings. Don’t think of it as a mystical event, but rather as a natural invitation to be honest with yourself. What's working? What isn't? What are you ready to leave behind, and what do you actually want to walk into next? You can embrace it, or get dragged along for the ride.

I’ve been feeling it since the beginning of summer…this vortex of truth swirling around me, showing me what I’ve been avoiding—while I try to grab hold of something (anything!) to feel an ounce of stability, again.

So here’s my honest midsummer check-in. The blissful moments and the parts that knocked me down. What I’m keeping and what I’m leaving behind.

What’s Been Hard

Camp Life

This past year we decided to homeschool, and one of the biggest changes we noticed was how our mornings were able to slow down. No rushing to the bus, no cramming fried eggs into bellies, no crying or screaming (mainly from me).

But summer camp was the reminder that we made the correct choice for the lifestyle we crave for our family. These last six weeks were brutal. I was waking up an hour earlier to get lunches packed, the kids were waking up 45 minutes earlier to get dressed and eat something before we were driving 15 minutes to the camp bus stop—only for the kids to drive another 45 minutes to camp.

Then it was undoing everything—wet clothes and towels, lunchboxes, and all the rocks Beau collected—in the evening. By the time the kids were fed, bathed, and put to bed… I merely had time to prep for the next day before I collapsed on my pillow.

Don’t get me wrong, I know this is some first world complaints. We absolutely love camp—my husband went there as a child, as well—and we feel super grateful to have the opportunity to send our kids somewhere fun, safe, and completely outdoors. And it can also be true that our daily routine and flow (and moods 🤪) were thrown off for a month and a half, and now we are attempting to recover… back to baseline.

The Identity Sloughing

This one is harder to describe because it doesn’t look like suffering from the outside. It looks like growth…well, because it is. But growth and grief can exist in the same body. And until you go through it yourself, shedding an identity feels like losing your lucky childhood socks…you’re entire world might crumble even though they’ve been too small for a while.

The labels I’ve carried for the last ten to twenty years—coaching titles, certifications, all the neat little boxes that made me easy to understand at a dinner party or to my family—I’m putting them down. They were the things I needed to get me through decades of seeking clients and partnering with studios, but now I can feel that the most authentic version of myself has been hiding behind them.

Personal trainer, yoga teacher, and holistic health coach are easy for others to digest… accept. But as I’ve moved through 2025’s deep shedding (year of the snake) and the first half of 2026’s becoming free, I’m no longer available for labels that limit my multidimensional, deeply intuitive power. I am learning to accept me.

Funny thing, my business mentor keeps saying, “burn the boats.” It’s scary, but I’m getting there—at my own pace—one boat at a time.

The Burnout Signals

I knew exactly what was happening before my body started breaking down. There were signs—reaching for an afternoon caffeine bump, craving chocolate at night, hot flashes, moodiness and snapping at my family, and feeling like I was rushing to complete every task [little or big] throughout the day. I was barely keeping it together.

I was using every bit of energy—my own or supplemented—to maintain an effortlessly flowing home space and work output, but my body felt like I was entering early perimenopause, having a nervous breakdown, and getting mono all at the same time.

Overthinking.
Hot flashes.
High energy followed by crashes.
Numbing behaviors.
Zero tolerance for anything annoying.
Variable diet—starving all the time then no appetite.
General malaise.

And do you want to know the craziest symptom? It is the crutch that kicks in any time my self care is non-existent and my metaphorical “cup” has been drained empty:

Online shopping. Browsing. Adding to cart. Removing from cart. Finding the same style on another website. And eventually buying lots of things I don’t actually need.

It’s like I’m rewarding myself for keeping it together enough to be a mom, wife, and coach…and filling the empty space in my chest where self worth used to live.

Burnout is no joke. And wellness coaches—with two decades of experience helping others overcome burnout—are not immune.

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Now, the fun stuff…

What Brought Me Joy

A New Hobby… or Two

I’ve been getting back into skateboarding for the last year or so with my longboard, penny board, and barefoot cruiser… but I decided to add a new board to the mix by gifting myself a brand new surf skate for my 39th birthday. Yup, I’m the almost-40 mama who is rolling up and down the street and up neighbors’ driveways during her breaks between client calls.

Not gonna lie, this surf skate my new favorite vehicle and I’m loving how different it feels: how the trucks rotate and move, how it gets more unstable with speed, and how I can actually generate speed on a flat surface—not very well, right now.

Oh, I did say, “…or two” and I wasn’t lying about another hobby. I spent most of my life as an athlete, and felt like I was missing something, until recently. I picked up a new sport, for which I go to practice twice a week and feel like a complete newb (I’ve already cried twice in 2 months), but have been challenged in a completely new way and have learned so much about myself and how I deal with the newness. For now, I’m keeping the details to myself [and those who witness me participating each week]… but I will most definitely be sharing more of my journey in my paid posts!

Nightly Journaling Ritual

I came back to journaling this summer through necessity. Thoughts and conversations were swirling in my head—I was having full-blown arguments with no one in my mind and analyzing them. It was driving me nuts [and wrecking my sleep]. I needed to get it out!

So I started writing. Pen to paper without a prompt or plan. I wrote for pages and pages that very first night, and once I closed my journal I felt an endorphin rush like I had just completed a yoga class with a full 5-minute savasana. I felt free.

What I didn’t expect was how much the journaling changed the way I communicate.

When I actually completed the ruminating thoughts on paper instead of letting them loop endlessly in my mind, taking every possible exit and and arriving at every possible outcome, something settled in me.

I stopped projecting.
I stopped reacting.
I traded victim-mindset for more self compassion, and gained the capacity to show up for the people I love with more of myself and less of my brain noise.

Needless to say, I’m keeping up with this nightly ritual.

Finding Joy in The Everyday

The biggest shift this summer: I never waited for something big to feel good.

No expensive family trips, no hosting over-the-top parties, no large purchases. Just 2 minutes of morning sunlight and birds chirping. Snuggling with my babies for an extra 5 minutes before the camp craziness. Singing along to music in the car. Playing one of my many instruments. Taking 10 minutes to practice carving down the street on my board. Reading a book JUST FOR FUN.

Joy has been more subtle this summer. And yet, it’s never felt more real.

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What I’m Taking Thru The 8/8 Portal

The Lion’s Gate is on the horizon. This is the moment where you decide what you’re taking with you and what you’re leaving in the heat of summer. If it’s unclear to you right now, no worries. Allow yourself to open to the whispers of your inner voice that sneak in while you’re driving, showering, cooking, or just randomly throughout the day.

I know what I’m leaving:

The pattern of feeling like I’m keeping up—home, clothes, fitness, food, trips, financial status.

And I know what I’m carrying forward:

Self worth. I am worthy of being seen as my most authentic self, no matter how different she is from the crowd.

The second half of summer is ours. Let’s go.

If this landed for you—send me a message and tell me what your midsummer has felt like. I’d love to know.

And if you want to come deeper into this work with me—the personal stories, the ancient beauty experiments, the tools that have been carrying me through this journey—the paid space is where all that lives.

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xo, Meli

Over the last 10 years, I’ve joined [and quit] four different MLM skincare companies looking for a shortcut. I didn’t need to look 20 years younger, but I wanted to continue feeling confident through my 30s and beyond without shots or surgery.

Besides my interest in building a passive income empire, I was on the hunt for a skincare routine that was 1. natural AND 2. realistic for busy women—no harsh chemicals, no ingredient lists to decode, no system that required me to wake up earlier to complete. And each company promised exactly that. Natural. Clean. Simple?

• One still had water as a main ingredients, which meant antifungals needed to be added.

• One was full of botanicals and essential oils that were too strong for my skin. In fact, I burned my arms with their muscle balm.

• One was quite simple, too simple, and didn’t carry everything I wanted—like a cleanser or serum.

• And the last one was expensive, confusing, and required too many steps—because more steps equals more sales.

Ultimately, I quit them all and decided to piece it together on my own—freeing myself from the 40-step daily routine, a $300 monthly autoship, and products that were, if I’m honest, just as complicated and expensive as everything else on the market—just with better marketing and a compensation plan attached.

The vibe never felt right. And it took me years (and thousands of dollars) to figure out why…

Their premise: that your skin—your natural, living, breathing skin—needs a laundry list of intervention to be okay.

Here’s what I’ve come to understand about the modern skincare industry:

They didn’t just sell us products.
They sold us a problem we never had in the first place.

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Not because I’m ashamed of it.
But because naming it feels like pulling a loose thread on a reality that used to keep me barely held together…

So let me pull the thread and set myself [and maybe YOU] free.

HERE WE GO…

I have spent A LOT of money trying to make more money.

Not in a reckless way. Okay, maybe a little bit reckless… but in the way that looks completely reasonable from the outside—investing in yourself, betting on your growth, doing the work—all the typical entrepreneurial taglines.

If I could just stick with a company long enough to build passive income.
If I just took the steps other coaches took to get high-ticket clients (like me).
If I could just fix my brain so I could manifest more money, more success, MORE.

I joined nine direct sales companies (Isagenix, Lifevantage, Doterra, MIG, Olive Tree People…) over the years. I spent over $40,000 on business and “money mindset” coaching. I showed up to calls, worked through the programs, implemented the frameworks, bought the high-level masterminds…

For REAL. Here are some: CEO Success, B-School, Marketing Intensive, Money Mentality Makeover, Potent Prosperity Mastermind, Align & Expand Mentorship, and more!

And underneath every single one of those decisions was the same quiet belief:

This is the thing that will finally make me feel like enough.

I could feel it now. My heart racing as I clicked “PAY” for [yet another] $2-7k business course. My planner filling with Zoom calls and tasks to complete while still managing my current client and content load. My brain tangled in confusion over joining a different direct sales leader because if it could happen to them, then it could could happen to me.

When the welcome email came through:

“Congrats! You just joined another project to keep you busy enough to feel productive but will keep you trapped in survival mode hoping for a miracle.”

Except that’s what I felt, not what it said.

Then I would spend a grueling 6 weeks (or years) learning tricks, uncovering my “money blocks,” perfecting my sales copy, and constantly starting over… only to feel empty, defeated, and another step closer to burnout.

I’m not telling you this to be dramatic or feel like the victim of an online business scam. I’m telling you this because I know I’m not the only one. And because it took me a long time—about 10 years—to see that the pattern wasn’t a spending problem, discipline problem, or a “wrong program” problem…

No, no, no… it was a nervous system problem I was hiding behind business strategy and busy work.

[take a freakin breath—or 5— if you’re feeling triggered by this convo: Inhale 2 - 3 - 4… Exhale 2 - 3 - 4… continue when you’re ready]

Here’s what’s happening in the coaching industry that I think we need to call out:

Nervous system regulation has become the new metric to unlock.

The language sounds cool, different—safety, capacity, embodiment, healing—but the underlying message is the same one that’s been sold to women for decades: you are not enough yet, but for the right investment of time and money, you could be.

Six-figure months as proof of regulation. High-ticket programs as the container for your healing. Your worthiness measured in the size of the transformation you can afford… or are willing to pay for.

And women—smart, self-aware, genuinely wanting to heal women—are spending five figures chasing a feeling that was never meant to be available for purchase.

THE TRUTH

Nervous system regulation is not a destination you arrive at when you’ve invested enough, learned enough, or worked with the right coach enough. It’s not a milestone. It’s not something you achieve when you drop $10,000 to be in proximity with a coach.

Regulation is a practice.
Built over time.
In the everyday moments of your actual life.

It’s reading piano music at 50% speed because that’s the only way your hands can keep up on the keys. It’s skateboarding, and celebrating control on the slightest downhill. It’s walking into a dojo as a white belt when everyone else is a black belt. It’s the first messy year of homeschooling when every day felt unplanned, yet you choose to do another year anyway.

Those are MY boring life receipts. None of them cost $10,000. None of them came with a certificate, testimonial, or successful launch.

Each moment just taught my nervous system that I didn’t need to grip so hard. That I was allowed to want things, even if they don’t make me money. That I could be bad at something new and keep going anyway. That my worth wasn’t attached to my output, my income, my level of productivity, or the things I chose to invest in.

That’s everyday regulation. And it’s available all the time.

Join us for REWILD 2027

REAL TALK

Let me be clear: I’m not saying coaches aren’t valuable. I’m not saying investing in support is wrong. I’ve had mentors who changed the trajectory of my life and I don’t regret those investments.

What I’m saying is this:

If the program is promising that your healed, regulated, financially-free self lives on the other side of a payment plan—that’s not nervous system work. That’s the same worthiness packaged in a different colored wrapper.

Real nervous system healing doesn’t make you feel chosen because you could afford it. It makes you feel safe enough to choose yourself in the unglamorous, nobody’s-watching moments that don’t come with dollar signs.

Regulation helps you feel relaxed on a random Tuesday when no one likes your post and your to-do list is long, but you choose to go for a walk, take a nap, or surf because that’s what you need.

This is the REAL work. But because it doesn’t have a price tag… no one is going to validate you for it.

So you have to cheer yourself on when you notice the lack of anxiety and fear when you swipe away from the program sales page with crazy testimonials because you paused and figured out you don’t actually need it.

If you’ve been in the trap—aka: if you recognize yourself in any of this—I want you to know something:

You are not naive. You are not foolish. You are a human with a dysregulated nervous system doing exactly what dysregulated nervous systems do: reach for external proof that you’re going to be okay.

That’s simple biology shaped by repeated life experiences. Therefore, the way out isn’t another program with lifetime access; it’s learning to build safety from the inside…

Examples:

Checking in with your body before you buy another $2,222 solution.
Asking yourself “does this move me closer to the life I want?” before creating.
Pausing before DMing a possible new client all your offerings out of desperation.
Taking up cross-stitching for fun instead of doing another mindset workshop.

I started Rewilding Together for the women who are done repeating the same cycles that are keeping them stuck and numb. For the women who are done waiting until they feel ready, have more time, or have graduated from therapy before feeling ALIVE again.

This is for the women who are in the middle of the mess—surviving, functioning, keeping up appearances—and wondering if this is as good as it gets. (spoiler alert, it can get better)

Our paid subscriber space isn’t a program. It’s not a container with a curriculum and a certificate at the end. It’s just me, going deeper, and sharing honest stories with the women who are willing to feel beyond survival mode even when they have no idea what’s on the other side of it. (it’s pretty dope, BTW)

You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be willing to start.

XO,
Meli[ssa]

Subscribe now

The 7/7 date is tied to what's often called the Sirius Gateway—the yearly window when Earth aligns with Sirius, the brightest star in our sky, as it conjuncts the sun in early July. Ancient cultures across Egypt, shamanic traditions, and beyond called Sirius the "spiritual sun," a source of higher-frequency light believed to accelerate intuition, clear old patterns, and awaken dormant parts of the self. The energy is said to build through the first week of July and peak on the 7th, before shifting into the Lion's Gate portal on 8/8.

I believe it… I mean, who doesn’t love an external force taking the reigns on your life and making you feel like you have permission to do crazy shit? I LOVE IT. But I also believe something is opening in my body this week, and I think both things are happening at once—the stars and the sensation aren’t separate.

The 7/7 portal opens the door. Your body decides whether to walk through it.

The portal is a shared moment where billions of nervous systems get collective permission to stop, feel, and want something different. That collective permission is its own kind of magic. In sound (and energy) healing, we call it coherence.

But a doorway only does its job if someone walks through it. And that thing walking through it isn’t your mindset or your goals—it’s your body. People rarely change because we suddenly have new information. We change when we are forced to feel—from a rock bottom, a birthday, a breakup, a diagnosis, an astrological alignment—the very thing we’ve been outrunning.

What we’re feeling this week

I turned 39 this year (millennial!)—it wasn’t a milestone birthday, but the completion of an era. How do I know? I no longer care about working harder than anyone else to prove my worth. In fact I’ve notice a whisper echoing from the depths of my soul—getting louder and louder—and instead of keeping it secret, I was crunge and to said it out loud… first to my husband, then to a complete stranger on a Zoom call.

“I don’t want to work anymore.”

Before you get you boy short panties twisted in a bunch about first-world problems, privilege, luxuries, or laziness… know that the activation you feel is only because it’s something you’ve wished for yourself. You’re tired, too. You’re craving more time to play and create, too. You’re exhausted from performing competence and keeping-it-all-together, too.

What MY soul wants is not a hammock on the beach with a cabana boy feeding me chilled coconut water, it wants to strap on my helmet and pads and take my skateboard to the nearest parking lot without feeling like I’m wasting time. It wants to travel to the coast so it can stumble on a surfboard, without feeling like my entire business is going to crumble. It wants me to meander through the trees, listening for bird instead of notifications. My soul wants to let my kids see me play and have fun, be a beginner at something new, and to regulate my way through it, instead of panic-checking my emails for the 1,000th time that day.

This is the part nobody puts in the 7/7 Instagram graphics. They'll tell you the light clears old patterns; they won't tell you that clearing feels like standing in the patterns fully exposed to the truth. Reclaiming play, fun, newness isn't soft and cozy. It's deeply uncomfortable, because it asks you to be witnessed failing at something, being a beginner at something, at an age where you're supposed to have your act together.

Why “just sit back and enjoy the ride” won’t work

If you’ve ever been told to relax while making a risky decision and felt your whole body resist—it’s not you being “not ready”—it’s your nervous system doing its job: keeping you alive and safe.

If your body has spent years [decades] being quiet, palatable, and one step ahead of collapse, then your body will not feel safe in stillness or surrender. Stillness used to mean danger. So when you get a chance to sit with yourself, have a birthday, or have a slow Sunday with nothing to do, some part of you argues back: not yet, not safe, keep moving.

The part no one talks about: resistance doesn’t go away because you understand it. Naming it doesn’t dissolve it. You will still feel the urge to grip, to perform, to make it productive, right up until the moment you don’t. The discomfort isn’t a sign you’re doing it wrong, it’s the mechanism. You can’t bypass it or think your way around it. You can only stay with it long enough for your body—nervous system—to get the memo that nothing bad will happen this time.

That’s the uncomfortable truth about every threshold, astrological portal or otherwise: it doesn’t feel like relief on the way in. It feels like exposure. Ick. Like your hands don’t know what to do without a task. Like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. But discomfort is not the obstacle when you’re walking through a portal—it’s the toll you pay to get to the other side.

Take action

I’m marking 7/7 with a small and [for me] harder ritual than lighting candles and sage: I’m going to do one thing that has no output. No content coming from it, no lesson, no before-and-after. Just play, for the sake of feeling like a body again instead of a machine.

If you want to join me, here’s what I’m doing:

Pick one thing that used to be fun before you had to “grow up”—BONUS if you pick something that makes you a little uncomfortable to actually do. It doesn’t have to be dangerous, just outside your “I don’t mess up” comfort zone. For example, dancing freely in your living room with the blinds open. Or rollerskating around the neighborhood in tube socks. Make it a family affair—do cartwheels or build a fort with your kids on your front lawn.

And do it today, not because it’s 7/7, and not because you want the dopamine hit of checking it off your to do list. Do it before you put it off because it’s not important enough. Do it today to give your nervous system the felt experience, discomfort included, of full body safety doing something frivolous, and maybe a little bit fun.

If this landed, I'd love to know—what's the thing you used to do just because it was fun, before “adulting” took over? Reply in the comments below [subscribers].

rewilding together in Costa Rica

If you want to walk through a threshold like this with your whole body, and not just read about it—

REWILD retreat is returning May 15-22, 2027. Seven days in Costa Rica, built around nervous system regulation and identity restoration: feeling the discomfort of being witnessed, reparenting the inner child you abandoned for competence, reclaiming the version of you that’s still in there under 10, 20, 30 years of holding it together.

No yoga experience necessary. Just your body, your journal, and a room full of women doing the same uncomfortable thing together: evolving.

Spots are limited and single rooms are filling up fast—click the button below to learn more and apply.

REWILD 2027

We moved before I went to middle school, and in the chaos of adjusting to a new town, new school, and new routine, I just... stopped skateboarding. Life got a little more serious. I got busy becoming the responsible eldest daughter, shoehorning my way into the cool girls group, and obsessing over boy bands…wedging out time for play.

At 11 years old.

I didn’t think about skateboarding again for 12 years, until longboarding came onto the scene and my boyfriend (now, husband) got me a new board for my 23rd birthday. It was so pretty, with turquoise blue wheels, a honey brown deck, and a matching blue airbrush pattern that felt more mature than my character boards I had as a kid.

The longboard was faster, smoother, but way harder to turn (as things are when they are longer and wider). Instead of taking on new tricks and stunts—as I would have with a more traditional skateboard—I learned to carve down steep roads, keep up with the cars, and look for a side street to turn up and slow down.

I found my happy place, again. Well, for a few months.

Read more

I’ve been on Substack for almost one year—June 27, 2025—as you see in the screenshot below, where I started with two subscribers: me and my husband.

I’ve spent nearly one whole year of figuring out what to say, collecting drafts, doubting my writing, saying “fck it” and hitting post, putting everything out for free—well, that’s only partially true because I started with a paid tier (thank you to the 3 people who donated to my work), and then immediately felt imposter syndrome, so I switched every article to free again.

I told myself I was better serving the people. Ha!

I wasn’t.

If I’m being truly honest with myself—which is hard to do when you’re focused on being liked and followed—a big part of keeping everything fully unlocked was fear. Not the zombie in a closet kind of fear, but a more subtle version.

More like a fear that disguises itself as being a good person.

—

The back story:

I spent most of my adult life hiding behind credentials and titles. Personal trainer. Crossfit coach. Holistic health coach. Ayurveda health counselor. Yoga Teacher. Somatic life coach. I’m not saying certifications aren’t important—they are, according to my 20 years of receipts—but I now see that they were also adding to my armor.

Hiding what?

As long as I was teaching you something, anything, I didn’t have to show you anything. I didn’t have to be vulnerable.

I could write about neuromanifestation, the koshas, or eating for your doshic imbalances and you’d walk away with something valuable… BUT—because I was in coach mode—I’d never have to let you see who was on the other side of the screen.

And thank goodness, because she is messy. Imperfect. Still learning.

The reality:

I’m the woman who loves snowboarding and hates being cold, who [at almost 40] is relearning how to skateboard and surf—and doing it badly (but enthusiastically!) without caring if I’m too old or too uncoordinated. I homeschool my kids. I married my high school sweetheart. I have strong opinions about coffee [mostly positive]. I’ve never had botox and I’m not planning on it. I’ve blown up my career and rebuilt it twice (jk, 10+ times) and this last round of burning everything down, I finally had to admit that the magical differentiator I’d been searching for was… me.

That’s who’s been writing to you from behind a wall of professional lingo.

And for over a year, I let that run the show—hell, my entire world—because it felt safer than being myself and wondering if I’ll still be accepted.

The wake up call:

I didn’t even clock this pattern until recently—while I was walking through my neighborhood, repeating golden shadow affirmations and crying—looking like a complete psychopath.

Side Note: I realize this visual is 100% on-brand for me—being uncomfortably aware of my truth, feeling all the emotions that come up, and moving them out… then weaving in a weighted vest and lots of concerned neighbors.

Well, once I was done crying, I asked myself: why does receiving payment for my writing feel so loaded?

The answer, which really stung, was that asking to be paid meant asking to be valued. And being valued meant being seen. And being seen meant they’d see all of me—not just the somatic coach with the tips, practices, and credentials, but also the woman who’s still in the mess, who is leading while still in the middle of living.

Keeping everything free was my way of sharing 20 years of experience and wisdom without feeling too attached to how it was received by others.

I wasn’t hiding from subscribers. I was hiding from myself.

—

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The purpose:

Why am I telling you this?
Well, because I think you know this feeling.

Maybe you haven’t experienced it in Substack—or maybe you have.
Maybe it’s how you over-give at work and call it being a team player.
Maybe it’s how you hide your needs and call it being low-maintenance.
Maybe it’s how you’ve gotten so used to being busy that “busy” has become your identity. “How are you?” Busy. “What’s going on?” I’m busy.

And before you get your panties in a twist thinking something is wrong with you or you’re broken…

Know that hiding yourself is how your nervous system learned over years and years and YEARS that being small—aka: a palatable people pleaser—keeps you safe.

The work is taking up space before you feel ready. Being seen before you feel certain. Claiming your value before you’ve convinced yourself you’ve earned it.

It’s building your nervous system’s capacity for the new, for the unfamiliar, and for more than you thought you should have.

I’m still learning this. And that’s the damn truth.

What’s next:

All of this is easier said than done, but I’m not here in this meat suit to live an easy life. I want to shred previous life contracts and rewire new greatness.

That said, here’s what’s changing at rewilding together.

Free posts aren’t going anywhere. The personal stories, the nervous system and Ayurvedic guidance, the occasional poem—that’s all staying.

But I’m finally creating an intentional separation between what’s “free” (BTW, trading your email is not 100% free, it’s still an energetic exchange) and what’s paid through a monetary exchange.

Know that this is not a “my business coach told me to monetize everything” moment. The changes are because I’ve been holding back the deeper stuff—the practices, audios, and my journey of doing this work—all because I was afraid to be valued.

Free posts will still be your map.
Paid content is where we put boots on the terrain.

—

The gift:

If you’ve been here a while—I’m sending you the biggest virtual hug. Thank you, genuinely. You’ve stood witness while I figured out how to stop performing as a writer, teacher, guide… and start living it.

Obviously, I’d love for you to come into the paid space. That’s where we will feel into the work, laughter, tears. To show my appreciation for your continued support and trust, here is a special promo for you, my rewilding BFF:

Get 20% off for 1 year

Thank you for being here. Your presence is received.

—Meli ⚡️

And why go on the journey alone? Share with a friend below:

It wasn’t all at once. In fact, it happened slowly, in layers, a new version of you was built piece by piece—shrinking to fit in or silencing to stay safe—to behave as a good child/partner/parent/employee does.

And that version of you? That version was well-liked, well-praised, and probably quite successful.

But she was never fully you.

A Note on Timing

“Midlife” is not a number. It’s a threshold.

For some, it’s in their 30s—when the good-girl template finally cracks. For me, it was 35, when the life I built felt more like a cage than success.
For some, it’s in their 40s—when the life they built look “right” on the outside leaves them feeling numb on the inside.
For some, it’s in their 50s—when the kids move out or the marriage shifts or the career ceiling hits, and suddenly there’s nothing left to hide behind.

Whenever it arrives for you: it’s on time.

And it is not a crisis.
It is the truth your body has been whispering to you for years.

You Were Meant to Evolve

We call it a midlife crisis because our culture needs a name for everything—a diagnosis to say there’s something wrong with you. And honestly, they need a dismissive label to slap on to anyone who isn’t fitting into their linear system.

Your “crisis” is actually just an awakening to the delirium you’ve been forced to live in for decades, and now you’re finally seeing through the haze.

And therefore, what’s happening in your 30s, 40s, or 50s isn’t a mental breakdown. It’s a breaking open.

The identities you built to survive your 20s were real. The B+ student. The dependable eldest daughter. The woman who puts on heels and makeup to go out. The achiever who needed to prove everyone wrong (especially her parents). The caretaker who made sure everyone was okay, even if she was also sick, drunk, or exhausted.

Those identities weren’t created from “playing pretend.” They were real life nervous system adaptations built because they were the safest version of you available at the time.

But, my friend, your adapted self has an expiration date…

…the time right around midlife—whatever that means for your body and your life—when the adapted self starts feeling like a costume that no longer fits. Too tight in some places. Too loose in others. And exhausting to keep wearing.

The Heaviness in Reclaiming Who You Are

Now the part that gets skipped in the “glow up at 40, 50, 60” content:

Releasing an old identity hurts.

Even if it was built out of survival. Even when you can clearly see it isn’t working for you anymore. Even if it is the reason why you’ve manifested everything good in your life.

Because that version of you kept you safe for so long, grief is a natural part of thanking her for her service and then letting her go.

The woman who people-pleased her way through her 20s and 30s wasn’t being weak. She abandoned herself for others because her nervous system learned that being accepted—or needed—was safer than being seen. The shrinking was strategic.

So, you have to grieve her before you let her go.

Here’s what that practice looks like:

Sit with the discomfort instead of moving past it. Allow yourself to feel the anger—at the years spent contorting yourself to fit, at all the things you wanted but never asked for, at the version of you that kept saying yes when everything inside her was screaming no. Let the sadness be sad instead of immediately making it mean something or turning it into a life lesson.

Stop rushing toward the healed version of yourself and spend some quality time with the versions of you who got you here.

If you’re like, “ummm how do I do this?” Keep reading.

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Practically, grieving might look like journaling without an agenda—stop trying to understand everything. Grieving might look like sharing your feelings with a therapist or a coach trained in deep listening. Heck, it might look like crying in the car, or finally saying out loud the thing you’ve never said, or punching a pillow until your body stops bracing and just… lets…go.

Grief lives in the body. Which means it doesn’t move through thinking—it moves through feeling. Movement. Breath. Laying down. Folding. Making noise.

And just to be clear: this process is not linear. It is not a weekend workshop or a single plant medicine ceremony.

It is daily commitment to feel, instead of numbing out. It takes awareness and intentional effort. And that’s why it actually works.

Slowly sloughing away layers, slowly grieving, slowly releasing… the process allows you to regain your balance, to rebuild inner safety, to grow your capacity for the unfamiliar.

So, stop asking, “what went wrong?”

And start asking, “who were you before you learned to fade into the shadows?”

And your answer lives on the other side of the grief.

Identity Restoration, Not a Crisis

What if we renamed this?

Not a crisis—a reclamation. remembering. restoration.

Not a breakdown—an excavation. sloughing. exfoliation.

You’re not falling apart, losing your mind, or crazy. You’re peeling back the layers (decades) of conditioning and compliance and performance to find something alive underneath. Something that has been dormant, waiting.

The little girl who loved playing imagination before she learned to make herself useful. The teenager who dressed for comfort before she needed to fit into social circles. The woman who had opinions before she learned to hold her tongue. The body that didn’t need to earn rest before it was trained to equate rest with laziness.

Midlife is the moment your body says enough.

What This Asks of You

Identity restoration isn’t a rebrand. It’s not a new vision board or a business pivot or a fresh set of goals.

It’s much scarier than that.

The work is somatic–meaning it happens in the body, not the mind. You can’t think your way back to yourself. You have to feel your way there—through the grief of who you needed to be, through the fear of who you might become, through the cringy discomfort of being seen in a life shaped around a chameleon version of you.

You will be asked to…
Notice when you’re performing versus when you’re present.
Sit with the unfamiliarity of wanting things because YOU want them.
Help your nervous system build capacity for the life your soul knows is possible.

The journey is NOT linear. It is not fast. And it will probably feel like your world is falling apart at some point because you’re releasing stories, beliefs, and patterns you’ve clung on to for decades.

But you are not falling apart.
You’re coming home.

Before you close this tab, take a deep breath and ask yourself:

• Who were you before you learned to want less?

• What did she love? What have you've been talking yourself out of?

• What would you grieve if you let the adapted versions of yourself go?

If you’re ready to take the next step in your journey, REWILD 2027 is open for registration! This is our annual women’s retreat in Costa Rica, where we gather in community to uncover the stories that have held us back, reclaim our authenticity, and rebuild the line of communication with our bodies.

Learn more & apply HERE.

Do you think they’re understanding the prompts? Are they asleep? Should I remind them to breathe?

Questioning thoughts snuck into my headspace between cues, as I guided 11 women through a visualization meditation. My mind seeked to control their experience. To guarantee their [healing].

“Now, step into the fire with your higher and lower selves,” I say in a soothing tone, still shaking the rattle. Did they do it? Do they understand how powerful this is?

I have been successfully leading retreats for three years, and teaching yoga and meditation to groups for nearly 11. And even after a decade of my own healing, my mind—my ego—still seeks confirmation that I’ve done a good job. Validation that I am good at what I do.

These are old stories. Old beliefs. Old software running the show.

I needed to control the outcome, because controlling the outcome meant I was safe—from failure, abandonment, and disappointing others.

And even though I’ve spent the last 10 years overcoming—fixing— this deeply rooted fear of failure, it still rung true in my body, showing up everytime I was expected to perform.

So I stopped trying to heal it, and started embracing it.

You see, I couldn’t just scrub away this fear of failure or need to control. It was part of me, a belief I created to survive, to feel safe.

On top of that, I truly cared about the people I was guiding and wanted to see them feel better—aware, intuitive, confident. They entrusted me with their journey, and I took that trust seriously—to heart.

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I felt the fear of failure, of needing to control. It sat in my chest. MY chest.

So much of my own self worth was tied to being good. Doing good. My heart ached. But I wouldn’t let this pain affect anyone else’s journey.

The desire below the fear was clear to me now. My need to control THEIR experience, was actually my desire to control MY experience. I tethered my fears to their journeys. I anchored their evolution to my preface. I had to let go.

Easier said than done.

Actually, it wasn’t that difficult.

Personally, once I zoom out and become aware of what is actually happening—aka, the truth—I can start choosing differently without the drama. Without spiraling in the healing vortex. And this time was no exception.

Releasing control meant I no longer felt responsible for everyone else’s experience. I was free to just show up as myself, tapping into my intuition, channeling what needed to be said. I had space to step into my power.

Before I led each session, I asked the universe to make me a channel to direct everyone down the path of their highest good.

When I guided participants through a visualization, I accepted that the prompts might not resonate with everyone. And that was okay.

When I invited community to share, I offered space and didn’t freak out when no one felt like saying anything.

And even more challenging, for me, when someone had a deep “aha” moment in a share, I didn’t try to coach or fix them. Sometimes the share is enough on its own.

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I swapped my fears for trust. I put trust in the retreat participants to cultivate their own experience in the moment, and used my energy to facilitate a safe environment where they could ask for more support, if needed.

Letting go is not the end of caring.
Letting go is not showing up as a disconnected guru.
Letting go is not throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks.
Letting go is the practice of removing expectations and surrendering to the each person’s unique process.

And, honestly, that is one the most important skills needed to facilitate a transformative retreat.

Interested in joining us in May 2027 for REWILD retreat in Costa Rica?
Learn more at wellbymelissa.com/rewild-2027

I was standing at the mic—all eyes on me—when I realized something had changed.

Not the audience. Not the circumstances. Me.

I was at my first poetry open mic, reading my own words out loud to a room full of strangers. Words I had lost for twenty years. Words I had found through a poetry book project I’d thrown myself into—a project I felt I had no place in. And now on a stage I didn’t belong on.

Who am I? I’m not a poet. I’m barely a blogger. I dove into something entirely new, entirely public, entirely for me—and, yet, I could still breathe.

As I stood on that stage at the local Busboys & Poets, I felt my heartbeat and my blood pulsing. I felt my breath. Slow. Steady. From the belly. All eyes and ears on me, and my nervous system actually believed I was safe.

I’m going to tell you how I got there, because it wasn’t always this way. I use to pour sweat, shake, and stutter when put at the front of the room. The difference that night didn’t come from public speaking classes, or a liquid courage, but rather an inner knowing that I could be safe in the unknown.

The version of me who would have never walked in the door

For most of my adult life, new experiences—especially public ones—activated something in me that looked like confidence from the outside and felt like controlled panic from the inside. I could perform—from coaching Crossfit, teaching yoga, and teaching workshops. I could push through. I could talk myself into commanding the room.

But on the inside, I was still bracing, scanning, and carrying the activated hum of a nervous system that had learned—over years of starting and stopping, quitting and pivoting—that new things were risky and visibility was dangerous. Therefore, the safest move was to stay in preparation mode where nothing could actually go wrong.

That night, I showed up to that open mic alone. My husband couldn’t come. No safety net, no familiar face, no one to smile at me from across the room when I got uncomfortable.

An older version of me would have sat in the corner, disengaged, and left the moment it was socially acceptable to do so. But that wasn’t happening this time.

Manifesting support

I found my people—two women who came to the event with intention also trying something new. We sat together, ate dinner together, talked the way you talk with people you somehow already know. The MC for the even thought we were childhood friends!

These incredible women cheered me on while I walked to the stage (I was called up first!), shared my story about backpacking the Appalachian trail with my dad, and read one of the poems inspired from my experience.

Anytime I felt like the fear was creeping up, taking over, I looked to them smailing at me, tapped into my breath, slowed down my speaking cadence, and co-regulated with the audience.

Is this how Rupi Kaur feels?

Because a braced nervous system doesn’t let flow happen. When you’re in survival mode—scanning for threat, managing the perceptions of others, performing “I’m fine, everything’s fine”—you’re not available for connection. You’re too busy holding yourself together to let anyone in.

(keep reading, I share the poem I wrote, published, and read below)

Regulation isn’t all anxiety management. It’s about expanding what you can receive.

This is the part that doesn’t get talked about enough in nervous system work. We focus so much on reducing the bad—the panic, the shutdown, the spiraling—that we forget to talk about what opens up and becomes available when the threat response quiets down.

Spontaneous connection with strangers. The ability to move slowly through something new instead of rushing to get it over with. Speaking your own words out loud and feeling them land. Returning to an art—writing poetry— again after twenty years of silence because your body has the capacity to create, instead of constantly coping.

None of this would’ve been available if my nervous system was still bracing for impact. Putting my energy into what could go wrong. All of it became available when I expanded my capacity to hold more of the unknown.

That’s what you’re actually building when you do this work. Not just less anxiety or stress. A bigger life.

A regulated nervous system doesn't just help you survive hard things. It makes you available for good ones. The connection you've been craving, the creative work you've been circling, the version of yourself you keep glimpsing and losing—none of it requires more preparation. It requires less bracing.

If you recognize yourself in my story—if you’ve started the same goal so many times you’re embarrassed to say you’re trying again, if you live most comfortably in research and planning mode and anything-but-doing mode, if you’ve made real progress before and then silently dismantled it right before the good part—I built something for you.

ALL IN is a small group program for twelve women who are done wondering what’s wrong with them and ready to actually tend to the root of their restart cycle. We work at the level of the nervous system—not strategy, motivation, or another framework to follow and abandon. The body. The patterns. The capacity to stay.

→ Learn more about ALL IN here

From 100 Poems & Possibilities for Healing: Volume 3—

“Seeker”

I looked through the telescope
searching for stars beyond reach

yet

all I could see was a single eye
of a woman staring back at me

she

who syncs seamlessly with the moon
following her sacral ebb and flow

trust

her cyclical dance brimming with life
body gyrating from her head to her toes

speak

her throat lets out a wild scream
beneath the noise, she recalls a familiar song

remember

her breathing unlocks a mysterious door
to a truth that’s lived inside her all along

awaken

fourteen generations of grandmother teachings
forgotten recipes, song, and ceremony

listen

her ancestors whisper, beloved child
the galaxies exist in your blood

notice

her every breath is a constellation
stars are birthed, extinguished, then rebud

return

she crawls from the womb of creation
nursing from her deep well of pain

water

wildflowers who forgot how to bloom
and gather daughters to call in the rain

heal

with siren’s hymn they resew torn hearts
weaving in echoes of elders from above

see

her eye was not a mirror but an open doorway
to a rhythm rooted in sacred love

By Melissa T. Maxwell

After the launch failed, I did what I always did. I signed up for something new.

Another certification. Another business coach. Another framework that was going to be the one that finally made it click. And for a while, the momentum of starting felt like progress. The learning felt productive. The investment felt like commitment.

It wasn’t. It was avoidance pretending to be growth.

Thousands of hours of certifications. Tens of thousands of dollars on business coaches—coaches who didn’t understand the nervous system, so naturally I decided they were just the wrong fit. Another pivot. Another launch. Another quiet quit before anything had a real chance to breathe.

And every single time, I told myself the same story: this one didn’t work. The next one will be different.

What I didn’t understand then was that the problem wasn’t the certification, or the coach, or the offer. The problem was that my nervous system had already written the ending. And it was going to keep writing the same one until I gave it a reason to believe something different was possible.

Your body doesn’t forget a failed launch

If you read part one (“Starting Over Isn’t The Problem…”) you know about the gap—that space between stopping and starting that most high achievers skip straight through. But here’s what’s happening underneath that gap that makes skipping it so costly.

Every time you attempt something and it doesn’t work—every launch flop, every failed commitment, every pullback when things get hard—your nervous system logs it. Not as information. As evidence.

Evidence that this is how it goes. Evidence that visibility is dangerous. Evidence that trying fully means failing fully. Evidence that the safest move is to pivot before the real risk arrives.

And then you wonder why, every time you approach the moment of real commitment—the post that actually says something, the offer that actually asks for the sale, the decision to stay instead of pivot—your body pulls the emergency brake.

This is what you call “self-sabotage",” but really it’s self-protection. Your system is doing exactly what it learned to do. Therefore, to move forward, the question is: what did it learn, and from what?

Accumulation isn’t the same as capacity

This is the part that took me the longest to admit: I thought getting more qualified would make me more ready. More certifications meant more credibility. More coaches meant more strategy. More knowledge meant more confidence.

But capacity isn’t built in your head. It’s built in your body—through repeated experiences of doing the thing and surviving it. Staying when it gets uncomfortable. Letting the discomfort complete its cycle instead of escaping into the next shiny start.

Every pivot before the real test arrives is a missed opportunity to teach your nervous system something new.

Your body can’t learn that it’s safe to be seen by reading about visibility. It learns by being seen—slowly, consistently, and staying with what comes up when you are finally seen.

What changing the game actually looks like

I want to tell you there was a breakthrough moment. A single decision that rewired everything overnight. There wasn’t.

What there was: a decision to commit to one thing I actually cared about—and to do the unglamorous work I’d been avoiding. Posting three times a day on Instagram. Going slower than FOMO wanted me to go. Staying focused when every distraction felt like an opportunity.

I’m no business coach with the secret formula. But doing these few things that I fought for so long—and not quitting—is how I started to write new evidence for my nervous system. Evidence that I can be uncomfortable and keep going. That visibility doesn’t destroy me. That the hard thing, done consistently, becomes the thing my body knows how to do.

That’s how simple rewiring can be. Not a mindset shift—a body shift built through repetition, presence, and the radical act of staying.

If you want to start building that new evidence today, the HOME BODY guide is where I’d point you first.

HOME BODY is a full body-based daily ritual built around presence, orientation, movement, and embodiment—four elements that work together to help you downshift out of the old pattern and into something your body can actually sustain. Not more information. A new experience, repeated daily, or in the moment.

This is how you change the game.

→ Get the HOME BODY guide and you’ll be invited to our seasonal community workshop—the next one is April 3rd— where we put these steps into practice TOGETHER.

DOWNLOAD HOME BODY NOW

I was going to be free. Financially, finally, irrevocably free. I’d found the thing—the product, the company, the community, the mission—and I threw myself into it completely. Not halfway, not casually. Completely.

What I didn’t know then was that I wasn’t operating from clarity. I was operating from FOMO and a nervous system that had learned to confuse urgency with momentum. Pushing felt like progress. Hustle felt like safety, familiar. And for a while, it worked—or at least it looked like it was working.

Then I made a decision to pivot. Not from defeat—from trust. I trusted myself enough to choose differently, to bet on myself despite the promises of the current situation.

My mentor tore me apart for it.

I don’t think she meant to be cruel. But the message landed the way it lands when it comes from someone you’ve handed authority to: you are wrong. Your instincts are wrong. You are not ready to trust yourself.

And just like that, my nervous system filed a report. Self-trust = danger. Noted.

Eight more companies. One of them twice.

Each one launched with genuine excitement. Each one quietly hollowed out from the same root: I was moving from fear and lack, never from groundedness or calm. I was chasing the feeling of freedom rather than building the capacity for it.

And every time I stopped—every gap between one attempt and the next—I did what most high achievers do. I skipped it. I metabolized the failure as fast as possible, reframed it, extracted the lesson, and got back in the game.

What I never did—for those 10 long years—was actually be in the gap.

Here’s what nobody tells you about that space

The gap isn’t empty. It’s full—full of your nervous system trying to make sense of what just happened, trying to recalibrate, trying to seek the truth.

But we’re so trained to treat stopping as failure that we can’t stay there long enough to hear it. We call it laziness. We call it fear. We call it not being disciplined enough, or motivated enough, or built for this.

What it actually often is—especially for the over-functioning, high-achieving, perpetually-in-motion among us—is incomplete recovery. Your system isn’t broken. It’s waiting for you to slow down long enough to let it complete the cycle.

The restart leads to failing not because you’re not trying hard enough, but because you keep launching before you’ve actually landed.

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What changed for me wasn’t a new strategy

It was quitting entirely. Not pivoting. Not rebranding. Fully stopping, and for once, actually letting myself stop.

And in that space, slowly, something came back online. Not motivation. Not a plan. Just me—grounded, calm, and more free than I’d felt chasing freedom for years.

Slowing down isn't the opposite of progress. For a dysregulated nervous system, it's the only path to it. The gap isn't a problem to solve. It's an invitation to fully land before you take off again.

Try this right now—the 2-minute landing practice

You don’t need a mat, a meditation app, or a free afternoon. You just need two minutes and a willingness to actually be present with yourself.

1. Feel your feet

   Press them into the floor. Notice the pressure, the temperature, the texture. You’re not going anywhere for the next two minutes. Let your feet know that.

2. Take one slow breath

   Inhale through your nose for a count of four. Exhale through your mouth for a count of six. The longer exhale is the signal—it tells your nervous system the threat is over.

3. Ask your body one question

   Not your mind—your body. Place a hand on your chest or belly and ask: what do I actually need right now? Then wait. Don’t analyze. Just notice what comes—a sensation, an image, a word, a feeling of tension or ease.

4. Acknowledge what you hear

   You don’t have to fix it, act on it, or understand it yet. Just say—out loud or silently—I hear you. That’s it. That’s the whole practice. You just did something most high achievers never do: you landed.

Do this once a day while you're in the gap. Not to fix the gap—to be in it. Your nervous system can't build capacity for what's next until it's finished processing what was. This practice gives it permission to do that.

If that 2-minutes practice expanded something for you, the HOME BODY guide is where it goes deeper.

HOME BODY is a simple, body-based daily ritual built around four elements—presence, reflection, movement, and embodiment—designed to help you downshift out of overdrive and back into yourself. Not through willpower or another productivity hack. Through your body, without judgment.

The kind of practice that, done consistently, changes what you reach for when life asks you to restart.

→ Get the HOME BODY guide below

Come HOME to You

** Our first HOME BODY community call is April 3rd! Stay tuned for the time!

Now that the 358 of you have clicked away, let’s dive into the [not so] secret way I lost 40 pounds after both of my babies… AND KEPT IT OFF WITH EASE.

Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Melissa. Childhood friends call me Mel, which my mom hates (LOL). Starting around 14 years old, I have been curious about the physical capacity of the human body. I played team sports, was a sprinter, trained in competitive kickboxing, went snowboarding every winter (which was hard living on the East Coast), and started coaching group fitness at 16 years old.

My insatiable hunger to learn about the human body led me to study kinesiology and nutrition in college; and my rebellious spirit guided me away from the more traditional roles of dietician or physical therapist. Though my parents would have preferred I took the safer route in life, forging my own path through the wellness world was the BEST decision I ever made.

I chose to help people who wanted to help themselves—and dove right into thousands of hours of certifications, courses, and personal study that has alchemized into the multidimensional wellness coach and group facilitator I am today.

But, Melissa, this post was supposed to be about weight loss…

You’re right, you’re right.

I’m telling you this because the best coaches are the ones who have fully integrated and embodied their teachings. So, I’m going to teach you the rituals I built to balance my weight through working, having babies, and dealing with the everyday stressors of motherhood, entrepreneurship, and being a human in our modern day world.

I believe women are beautiful at any size because their beauty glows from within. Though I am smiling in the first photo, I did not feel like myself. I felt frumpy, lethargic, and heavy.

Despite my background in personal training, nutrition, and yoga, it wasn’t diet and exercise that took me from point A to point B, in fact the three years between these two photos were my least active, least nutrition-focused years of my entire adult life.

Instead, I focused on rebuilding the feeling of safety in my current (not future, smaller) body—a journey that required me to be more curious than disciplined.

Food Curiosity

I love to eat—that’s my Taurian self showing. I love to cook—and I’m really good at it thanks to my grandmother and mother who taught me how to follow my instincts in the kitchen.

Dieting was not an option. I dabbled in all the fad diets—South Beach to Paleo to keto—and never felt fully nourished by any of them. So I chose to dive into Ayurveda and use myself as a guinea pig for eating according to my dosha (an Ayurvedic energy type), my current imbalances, and the season. A model of intuitive eating that goes beyond, “I want that food so I must eat it.” No, you don’t actually need a sleeve of Oreos.

I taught myself to pause and observe how I was feeling before planning and preparing meals.

Was I scattered beyond standard mom brain? If yes, then I probably needed more grounding and cooked, but nourishing foods—like sweet potatoes, stewed meats, and steamed veggies.

Did I feel extra sluggish because I had been glued to the couch all day with a cluster feeding baby? If yes, I probably needed meals that were smaller lighter, and easier to digest—like mung bean dahl, chicken and vegetable soup, or sautéed greens with a piece of cooked fish.

I built safety in my body by cultivating self trust around food.

No guilt was felt when I craved chocolate or a fresh oatmeal cookie (with brewers yeast for lactation, of course!). I trusted my ability to know what I needed. I learned the whispers that told me how much to eat, what foods would bring me back into harmony, and that it was safe to eat when I was hungry.

I replaced perfection and control with curiosity and self awareness—working WITH my body instead of against it. And without feeling deprived, starved, or depleted… the protective weight started to melt away.

Movement Curiosity

Remember when I said those three years were my least active? I wasn’t lying.

I was transitioning out of coaching Crossfit (something I did for 7.5 years), and recovering from my second full-term pregnancy and vaginal birth. My hips were both tight and loose, my back was struggling from years of breastfeeding, and I was so incredibly tired chasing after a 4-year-old while keeping a newborn alive, and my coaching clients happy.

My body and mind screamed for stability and rest, but the heaviness called for movement. So I let my curiosity take over. What if movement didn’t have to be so intense? What if it could even feel nourishing?

I took those three years to go slow—a very unfamiliar slow.

My curiosity brought me back to “fun” forms of movement (like skateboarding, obstacle courses, and climbing on the playground with my daughter). I returned to my yoga roots to balance and strengthen my hips, back, and shoulders (areas that take a beating during and after pregnancy). And—the most life-changing—I reconnected with nature through walks pushing the stroller, hiking, and trips to the beach and mountains.

I learned that movement didn’t have to look exactly like it always did for me. If I was exhausted from kids waking me up throughout the night, then I settled for gentle stretching and a walk around the block. And in the rare case that I was overflowing with energy, I would drag my booty into my garage gym and coach myself through a strength training circuit.

I followed my own rhythm, staying curious about new ways [for me] to stay active without running myself into the ground or burning out.

Self Care Curiosity

Last, but definitely not least… I got self care curious.

Don’t get me wrong, I love massages, pedicures, and expensive face masks. But that’s not always in the budget—of either time or money.

This was an invitation to get curious about what I actually needed tending to, and the rituals that would move the needle towards balance—a principle known as cultivating the opposite in Ayurveda. Little did I know that this was going to have the biggest effect on my well-being… and how I eventually started working with others.

I stripped away performance, and got back to basic needs: sunlight, breath, stillness, and joy. Food and movement are part of this list, but we already discussed those.

I was already getting up early with an infant, so I started rolling out of bed 5-10 minutes before he woke to meditate and practice pranayam (breath work).

Life was so chaotic with two kids, a non-traditional work schedule, and responsibilities at home, so I taught myself to “Take 5” throughout the day to get sunlight on my skin, fresh air into my lungs, and soothe the busyness of my day.

And my personal favorite… I rediscovered activities that brought me so much joy: learning new skills (reading about nervous system reset tools), practicing old skills (playing piano and guitar), and building in time each day to pick a frivolous self care ritual to refill my cup. I was a big fan of whipping up something in the kitchen, such as a golden latte, homemade broth or yogurt, or gluten-free baked good.

The big “aha” moment was realizing self care was anything that 1. keeps your metaphorical cup from emptying; or 2. refills it so you pour into others from your overflow.

Brushing your teeth and eating three meals a day—that’s basic needs.

Taking a pause from answering emails to make a matcha latte from scratch, then sip it outside—that’s fill your cup goodness.

I am eternally grateful to be supported by an amazing partner and close family (both in proximity and connection) who encourage me to take care of myself and gift me the alone time I need to recharge, no questions asked.

AND I have been in those solo-parenting, all grandparents are busy or away moments where you’re moving forward, checking lists, and making sure people are just fed and in bed at somewhat reasonable times. That’s when I build in a few minutes while boiling pasta to stretch, play “karaoke” in the car between activities, or take ten minutes after the kids are asleep to journal… just to maintain the level of my energetic cup.

AND somedays my goal is to survive the day and put on a meditation right before bed, which I end up falling asleep to.

Some call it balance. I call it being human. And when we allow ourselves to be imperfectly human, we learn self awareness (honesty), self compassion (understanding), and self trust (the ability to pivot instead of quit).

There ya go. That’s my secret to weight balance—be more human.

Actually, in 2020, I came up with a podcast name, had my sister design a logo, and even created it on Spotify. But I never uploaded my first episode.

I froze.

Who would want to listen to me?
I don’t know enough to pose as an expert.
This is going to take too much work.
No one is going to help me.
My voice sounds weird.

So I abandoned myself, I mean the project, and distracted myself with certifications, clients, random business ventures, and excuses.

No kidding, instead of working on the podcast I was dreaming of creating, I joined two different MLM companies (that I later quit) and stayed in my personal training/health coaching comfort zone. That’s how little trust I had in myself.

I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but please tell me you can relate to distracting with busyness and shiny carrots.

Still, I couldn’t let it go. Podcasts are my favorite form of content to consume. I find myself driving from client to client, bawling my eyeballs out listening to heartfelt stories and life wins. I love getting inspired by others, and learning from experts while folding laundry or doing dishes.

Did I mention, podcasts are my favorite?

So, here we are years later, and the idea to start a podcast never left me. It would come up on walks, in the shower, in half-formed voice notes I never shared. It was a whisper I couldn’t shake.

And instead of doing anything about it, I got very good at explaining why now wasn’t the time.

I need to rebrand my business.
I need to pick the perfect podcast name.
I need to build my social media first.
I need to wait until my kids are older.
I need to get through this season of travel.
I need the right equipment.
I need money to buy the right equipment.

The self doubt got so bad that I started over-justifying all my excuses—backing them up with evidence (lack of time, money, following, clarity) in my life.

Little did I know that my doubts manifested the evidence that became my reality, exposing my lack of capacity for the unknown—no matter if it was true or not.

This form of freeze is super common. In fact, most people go through some version of it whenever venturing into something new: working out, eating healthy, changing their style, starting a new job/business, or entering a new relationship.

I had to thaw myself from freeze mode, but after years of saying I was going to do something and never doing it, I had zero capacity for change.

The turning point—because no one likes a sad ending.

2025 was truly a year of shedding, releasing, unwinding, and rewiring. I feel like my ego went through a hundred rebirths, and I was exfoliated down to my deepest layers of being.

It wasn’t an easy or comfortable journey. I was constantly doubting my own intuitive thoughts and soul whispers. Wouldn’t you, too, if they were trying to erase all the things you have created to sustain your business for the last 20 years? I will get more into the details of this realignment in another post. ;)

I desired more time and space to be in my flowstate and genius, and to no longer feel like I was constantly doggy paddling to stay afloat in my [holistic health and fitness] business.

Another factor was craving more time at home—with my kids, feeling stable, and focusing on my personal routine. I had spent the last decade building up client based, driving all over the county to teach classes and provide coaching, and facilitating events of all sizes. All my energy was put towards helping others [literally my favorite thing], but it was time I siphoned some of that energy towards my own well-being.

REWILD women's retreat 2026

Lastly, I just always felt like something was missing. Besides talking and teaching about Ayurveda, nervous system resilience, and fitness, I love exploring other modalities and ways of understanding yourself better—human design, astrology, archetypes, etc. But obviously I wasn’t going to add a dozen other certifications and offerings to my [already CVS-receipt-long] list.

Do you get where I’m going here?

I could see myself doing solo-casts, sharing knowledge about all the modalities I’ve studied and integrated over the last two decades. I could see myself sharing stories about motherhood, homeschooling, and remembering who I am beneath it all. I could see myself bringing on awesome guests to interview, learn from, and become friends with.

The dream was still alive in my heart.

A few days ago, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts on modern spirituality and the host announced that she was leading a 6-week podcast mentorship. My ears perked up, I got an excited gut feeling (I’m a splenic decision maker in human design), and I clicked on the link in the show notes.

“Only 10 spots.” And priced so reasonably I almost thought I was hallucinating.

I let myself sleep on it for a couple days, but then she released another podcast marketing the mentorship and I got all giddy again. My husband even noticed how lit up I was when I mentioned my interest in the opportunity—he is always immensely supportive of every course, cert, or program I sign up for.

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When I went to check on how many spots were available, it said, “2 spots left.”

Needless to say, I ran to get my credit card, filled out all my info, and hit the pay now button. No regrets. I was tingly all over, in a good way.

My decision was so aligned with my current desires—home, family, flowstate—that I instantly felt at ease. Everything is working out for me, I thought.

And just like that, I took a giant leap forward. Towards bringing a six-year dream to fruition, and making space for all the goodness by releasing old identities that no longer serve my dharma (purpose) in this season of life. Will also dive deeper into this in another post. ;)

It’s been 36 hours since I signed up. And even though people are starting podcasts left and right, I still feel like this is a special moment for me.

I am going to be a podcast host. I might stumble through episodes, but that’s what editing is for. I might mess up the recording volume, but I’ll dial it in. I might suck at interviewing guests, but I’ll ask better questions with practice.

Let me tell you something: I’m not a quitter if I am passionate about something. I’ve quit three of my own businesses (I’ll have to tell you about them one day), five “normal” jobs, and nine MLM companies, but I have NEVER quit on my purpose to share life-changing wellness with others.

20 years as a personal trainer
14 years as a holistic health coach
11 years as a yoga teacher
8 years as a Crossfit coach
3 years as an Ayurveda Health Counselor
… Postpartum Correctional Exercise Specialist…Reiki Master…Womb Circle Facilitator… Retreat Leader… Sound Healing Practitioner… Somatic Yoga Teacher… Embodied Life Coach…

I’m starting a podcast so I can bring it all together for you.

** What types of conversations and topics do you want to hear about on the podcast—within the realms of holistic health, Ancient wellness wisdom, manifestation, modern spirituality, building nervous system resilience, etc. Share your ideas in the comments below! Thank you!

Goals. Intentions. Vision boards. New habits. New You.

And listen—I love clarity. I love growth. I love watching women come back to life in their bodies and their choices.

But right now?
I’m not setting goals.

I’m writing this from Hawaii—where time stretches, the mornings are quiet and breezy, and the spirit of aloha doesn’t rush you. Being here has made it painfully obvious how conditioned we are to force momentum, even when the body is asking for presence.

So, I’m not putting off New Year’s goal-setting because I don’t care. Not because I’m unmotivated. Not because I’m avoiding responsibility.

But because my nervous system is still listening.

The piece no one wants to talk about.

Most goal-setting conversations skip one very important step:

Is your system actually ready to move forward?

We treat January like a starting gun. As if our bodies didn’t just move through months of contraction, stimulation, family dynamics, travel, sugar, alcohol, deadlines, grief, joy, nostalgia, and survival.

Luckily, out here [on Oahu] nothing is moving like that. The ocean doesn’t sprint into the new year. The palm trees don’t announce intentions. There’s a steadiness that reminds me how unnatural our urgency has become—pushing us against our rhythm.

When we rush, we move from lack energy. We ask ourselves, What do I want? before asking:

• What am I still carrying?

• What feels tender?

• What feels depleted?

• What feels like it needs space before structure?

From an Ayurvedic lens, winter is not a time to push. It’s a time to consolidate, digest, and repair.

From a nervous system lens, forcing goals too early can actually keep you stuck in a subtle fight-or-flight loop—always chasing, never flowing.

So instead of setting goals, I’m doing something that feels far more radical.

I’m letting my body catch up to my life.

Being in Hawaii has stripped things down. Fewer inputs. More sensation. More honesty. It doesn’t always feel good; in fact, I’ve been feeling pretty uncomfortable in my body and thoughts the closer we get to the New Year.

But even with this destabilizing buzz flowing through me, I’ve noticed it is easier feel contrast between my body softening—and tightening—because I’m spending less time being “on” and making more time to go “in”.

You know what I’m talking about… If you’ve ever tried to set goals while feeling:

• chronically tired

• subtly anxious

• disconnected from your intuition

• foggy about what you actually want

…you know it doesn’t work.

You might hit the goal. But you won’t feel better.

Because goals set from dysregulation often become another way to override yourself. And overriding yourself is what many of us are recovering from.

So right now, my practice looks like:

• Fewer decisions

• Less-packed days

• More nature (going outside)

• More honest check-ins

• Less “fixing”

I’m not asking my body to perform. I’m asking it to tell the truth.

The quiet comes before clarity.

Here’s what I know after years of working with women:

The women who rush to reinvent themselves in January often end up burned out by March.

The women who pause—who listen, feel, and stabilize first—make changes that actually last.

And to my Type A, Generator (human design), Aries (astrology), ambitious women… This isn’t about being passive. It’s about being precise.

Before goals, there is orientation.
Before discipline, there is safety.
Before momentum, there is stability.

You don’t plant seeds in frozen ground and demand the biggest blooms.
You wait. You tend to the soil.

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What I am doing instead

Instead of goals, I’m paying attention to:

• What gives me energy vs. what drains it

• Where I feel pressure vs. where I feel grounded

• What my body consistently asks for (not what my mind demands)

• What limiting stories I’m over-justifying

I’m letting patterns reveal themselves without rushing to change them. Because awareness—and radical honesty—is what makes change sustainable.

Watching the days unfold on the island—whether it be a beach, hike, or market day—I am reminded that rhythm always returns when we stop interrupting it.

And goals can wait until they arise from clarity, not society-imposed pressure.

Final notes.

If you feel behind because you’re not ready to declare your next chapter yet—

You’re not confused. You’re likely just early in the process.

Rest is not laziness. Patience is not unproductive. And choosing NOT to force direction is often the most self-trusting move you can make.

This year doesn’t need to carry the same “follow the hardcore resolution herd” stress.

You can choose to cultivate a more intentional, resilient, and aligned vibe so you don’t have to start over in the Spring.

Sustainability comes with simplicity and safety.
Start smaller. Go further.

In fact, my idea of camping was an air-conditioned cabin in the mountains— decked out with a fully-equipped kitchen, luxurious bathroom, and hot tub under the stars. Oh, and never taking a trip without a suitcase full of cozy athleisure and my Ayurvedic skincare routine.

What can I say? I’m a true Taurus.

But when I dropped my dad off at the airport to begin his thru hike of the Appalachian Trail— from Georgia to Maine— the call of the wild started howling louder.

Everyone tried to talk me down when I decided to tackle 100 miles on the Appalachian trail—but the beauty of NEVER backpacking before in my life meant I didn’t know my limits. In fact, I didn’t know anything about what I was committing to.

“Start with 20 miles,” my dad said when I told him my plan. “This is REALLY hard.”

I eat hard experiences for breakfast, I thought, but told him that I had already made up my mind and he should just make sure I have everything I need.

A new 70-liter pack, sleeping bag, water filtration system, and another $1,000 of gear later… I was ready for my showerless adventure into the wilderness.

The first day was a beast. My dad, Flash (trail name*), who had been hiking for three months by this point, planned for 16 “easy” miles to our tent spot. No problemo, right? No. We got a late start, had to backtrack the mile he missed from being driven to the hotel (adding 2 miles to our total), and needless to say… didn’t hit our mark.

After another hour of circling the public park for a spot to stealth camp [in the dark], we found a spot in tall grass. And as annoyed I was with my dad for not wanting to illegally camp along the road where it was much more flat and cozy, we got to experience something I may never get to witness again…

…a newborn deer nursing her mother! The baby could barely stand, and as we attempted to squeeze by her on the trail, she tried running away (more like stumbling) for about six feet before diving her head into the bushes—her body sticking out on the trail.

If I can’t see them, then they can’t see me, she must have thought.

I slept terribly that first night. I woke to every sound in the stillness of the night. The soreness in my legs settling in from hiking with a 30-lb pack for the first time ever. I was hungry and thirsty, and honestly, a little nervous about the morning bathroom situation—despite figuring out how to pee in the woods without peeing on myself.

My legs are broken. I thought the next morning, as the sunrise seeped through my tent walls. I could barely bend my knees and my calves were screaming. Nevertheless, I crawled out of my tent at 5:30 AM and started hot water [for much-needed coffee] on the tiny camp burner.

Thank goodness day two was a short 5.5 miles to the road for a shuttle to a nearby hostel. I hobbled my way through the forest, meeting a few other thru hikers* along the way.

As we emerged from the trees, I saw my new Australian trail friend, Laurel (trail name), who I just met the day before, waiting by the road.

“I have a trail name for you,” she called out to me. I was beyond excited.

“Hot Boots,” she went on. “Because your feet must be on fire after a 16-mile first day on the trail!”

My dad groaned. Hot Boots was not necessarily the name HE was thinking of for his first born, but Laurel and I quickly shut down his ideas of Newbie, Kiddo, and Flash’s Daughter.

Hot Boots. I liked it. And it was totally on-brand with my hot pink cheetah gaiters (shoe coverings).

Allison, the hostel owner pulled up in her minivan to pick us up. You could tell she built a tough, but friendly, exterior in order to keep us rowdy (and stinky) hikers in line. Her knowledge of the trail was extensive, and her memory of hikers she’d shuttled and housed was nothing short of impressive. I was starting to feel the sense of community—family?—held together by the miles of the AT (Appalachian Trail).

I’ve never stayed in a hostel before—not really my thing to bunk with strangers [who may snore], or share a room in a musty, old home. And I kept it that way… reserving a spot in the yard for my Durston tent, which I was getting REALLY good at setting up on my own.

Remember when I said I had never backpacked before? The whole thing about not having expectations?

Well, I got the FULL experience. June in the Shenandoah Mountains happens to be very hot, and very… rainy.

My second night sleeping outdoors was wild. Thunderstorms, downpours, and being woke with a start at 1 AM by a train blaring it’s horn as it chugged by—so loud enough it sounded like it was driving straight over my tent.

I guess sleep is a luxury out here.

Despite broken sleep, the early mornings were my favorite. First sun peeking through my eyelids, birds happily chirping, drops of dew dripping from the trees onto my tent. No need for an alarm when nature wakes to its own rhythm.

Day 2 was another beast of a hike: 16 miles. My legs were still recovering from the DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness) from day 1, but after a few miles I started to loosen up.

Soggy paths, wet brush, mosquitos and no-see-ums sucking us dry, and my backpack feeling heavy as lead with a full water carry (2.75 liters). I can’t say this was part of the calm and serene stroll through nature I dreamed about, but I was committed to the process.

Every step I took peeled back another layer of my Self.

Spending 24/7 with my dad brought up old childhood triggers that needed healing. Pushing my body to build the muscles and stamina needed to hike for 8 hours a day with a pack challenged my limiting beliefs about my capabilities.

I 100% expected these 100 miles to be a physical challenge, but I had no clue how much I would be cracked open by nature. So much, I would write furiously every evening as my eyes felt heavy with exhaustion. I have to get this out, I encouraged myself. My body and mind were purging the undigested traumas, with Pachamama holding my hair.

I was being cleansed… but not like a gentle, Baptismal ceremony.
But more like a Ron Weasley vomiting frogs kind of way.

Needless to say, the trail changed me.

Thank you for reading the first part of my story.
Volume 2 of my AT* Field Notes coming soon!

xo,
Hot Boots

GLOSSARY—
Trail Name: the nickname given to a hiker, specific to the hiker’s identity, quirks, or something related to their hiking experience (Ex: Laurel was given her trail name because she came on the trail just as the mountain laurels were blooming)
Thru Hiker: a term used for those who are currently hiking the full 2,000+ miles of the Appalachian trail. Different from day hikers (who park and hike a section for the day), and section hikers (who backpack the trail in segments, going back to "normal life” in between).
AT: shorthand for Appalachian Trail

The weekend after Thanksgiving, while everyone else was recovering from turkey hangovers in their stretchy pants, we (my fam) were moving.

Boxes, dust bunnies, more boxes, and so. many. plants. Pickup truck load after pick up truck load, we moved our entire 2,800 square foot townhome into a quaint 1,800 square foot cottage. Rolling out rugs, re-building beds (have you ever moved a Sleep Number? It’s WILD!), and figuring out where all our stuff was going to fit in this smaller space.

And the entire time, I could feel my body screaming one thing to me: ROOT. Prioritize the necessities, create pockets of comfort, and find a new rhythm in this new space… on the opposite side of town.

I’ve been latching on to the small things:
Snoozing my alarm and cuddling my family in bed.
Starting every morning with sips of hot water.
Putting things back where they belong—spices, my coat, clean dishes.
Cooking dinner every day and sitting around the table.
Wiping down the stovetop and kitchen counter.

Not at all glamorous.
But totally grounding.

Somewhere through this process, I found myself thinking about discipline—a word I’ve avoided for a long time because it felt harsh or rigid, like something my dad used to say to me when I didn’t want to practice the piano or bassoon.

But as I rooted into this new space, something about the word softened:

Discipline isn’t punishment. It’s self respect.
It’s remembering your worth and choosing consistent, intentional action each day.

And that’s the part no one talks about.

Discipline is not the 5 a.m. wakeup routine that looks good on Instagram.
It’s not the perfect meal prep or the 75-day challenge or the color-coded checklist.

Discipline is putting your hands on the life you want and saying:
“I’m going to show up for this—even when it’s imperfect and messy.”

Showing up could be taking a walk instead of your morning scroll.
Some days it’s going to bed instead of putting on another episode.
Other days it’s doing the dishes so your nervous system can stand down.
Or it could be laying on the floor and focusing on your breath because that’s all you have.

These past couple weeks have reminded me that discipline isn’t forcing yourself to DO, but rather reinforcing the version of yourself you’re BECOMING.

Rooting helps.
Small rituals help.
Returning to yourself—even in the middle of boxes of books and paint cans—helps.

Discipline feels different when you stop seeing it as restriction and start seeing it as devotion.
A devotion to your energy. Your nervous system. Your inner rhythm. Your future self.

And that kind of discipline?
It actually feels grounding. Soothing. Like a giant exhale back into alignment.

If you’re in a season of transition, chaos, or just trying to come back to yourself… start with the tiniest acts of devotion.
The smallest roots.
Going to bed 15 minutes earlier.
Eating one homemade meal per day.
Sipping warm water before coffee.

That’s enough.
And you are so worthy.

Ayurveda doesn’t tell you not to enjoy the holiday. It simply reminds you how to stay steady in your body so you can actually experience the joy instead of recovering from it for a week.

Here are some gentle Ayurvedic rhythms to support you before and after the holiday—so you stay grounded, present, and nourished.

Before Thanksgiving (start now!): Prep Body & Mind

Think of these rituals as priming your digestive fire (agni) and nervous system—so you enter the holiday with resilience rather than reactivity.

1. Start the Day with Warmth

Sip warm lemon water or ginger tea in the morning. This signals your digestion to wake up gently and stabilizes kapha (dense earth/water elements) and vata (unstable air/space elements), the two doshas most impacted by travel, cold weather, and irregular meals.

2. Keep Other Meals Simple & Warm

In the days leading up to Thanksgiving, choose:

• Soups, stews, kitchari (mung bean dal), or cooked grains

• Warm spices like cumin, cinnamon, fennel, ginger

• Fewer raw foods, cold salads, or decadent meals

Warm foods = stronger digestion, calmer nervous system, steadier mood.

3. Oil Your Body (Abhyanga)

A 5-minute warm oil massage (sesame for vata or almond oil for most people) before a shower can:

• calm anxiety

• stabilize your mind

• nourish your tissues

• reduce sensory overload

This is one of the most regulating practices you can do before a big family gathering.

4. Create an Emotional Plan

Ayurveda isn’t just about digestion of food—it’s about the digestion of life.
Before you go, ask yourself:

• What do I need to feel grounded around family?

• What topics drain or energize me?

• What boundaries will help me stay in my body?

This is preventative medicine.

5. Eat With a Little Hunger

Ayurveda teaches us that food only digests well if hunger is present. That said, do NOT starve yourself all day—it backfires. Eat light, warm, grounding meals throughout the day so you arrive steady, not ravenous.

For the Thanksgiving meal, eat “until the first burp”, and then pause. Sip warm water. Go for a slow walk. Then have pie… because pie is delicious.

Post-Thanksgiving: Repair & Rebalance

If you wake up the next day feeling heavy, bloated, anxious, overstimulated, or… human, here’s your simple reset.

1. Start with Warm Water (yes, again)

Warm water flushes stagnation, decongests the lymphatic system, and encourages gentle detoxification naturally. Bonus points if you sip it outside in the morning sunlight with your bare feet on the grass.

2. Make Your Next Meal Simple

Give your digestive fire a break:

• kitchari

• a simple soup

• cooked veggies with rice

• stewed apples

This is not punishment; it’s honoring your body. And you can enjoy the leftovers tomorrow.

3. Move Gently

Choose something that gets the prana (life force energy) moving without spiking cortisol:

• a walk

• light stretching

• a few sun salutations

• restorative yoga

Movement helps digestion, mood, and lymph flow.

4. Spice Up Your Digestion

Try a cup of CCF tea (cumin, coriander, fennel) or ginger tea after meals. These spices nudge your system into balance without force.

5. Prioritize Early Bedtime

The day after any big event, vata is elevated. An early bedtime anchors your nervous system and restores your energy far better than pushing through.

6. Self-Massage to Come Back Home

If you feel scattered, puffy, or disconnected from your body, return to abhyanga—my numero uno self care recommendation whenever you’re feeling off. The gentle massage grounds emotions, soothes inflammation, and reminds your system: You’re safe.

If You Do One Thing, Let It Be This

KEEP IT SIMPLE:
Eat something warm and grounding as your first meal the day after Thanksgiving.

Not a cold smoothie or raw fruit plate.
Not leftover pie straight from the fridge.
Not coffee on an empty stomach to “reset.”

A warm, simple, easy-to-digest meal—even just a bowl of oatmeal or veggie soup—will do more for your gut, mood, energy, and nervous system than any cleanse, supplement, or “detox hack.”

When your digestive fire (agni) is supported, your body naturally recalibrates:

• bloat settles

• cravings lessen

• mood stabilizes

• energy returns

• inflammation quiets down

It’s the smallest shift with the biggest impact.

Warm food tells your body: we’re safe, we’re steady, we can begin again.

& Most Importantly: Release the Shame:

Ayurveda is not about perfection.
It does not punish you for enjoying food, connection, or ritual.
It simply offers a rhythm that supports your body when life gets irregular.

You didn’t “ruin” anything by eating the pie, the stuffing, or going back for seconds. Your body knows how to recover—you’re just helping it along.

Deepen your connection with your body this season, ask:

• What kind of support does/did my body need before the holiday?

• How do I want to feel as I move into winter?

• Which of these practices can I commit to gently for the next 3–5 days?

Reminder: Your body thrives on small, steady actions—not drastic resets.

Share rewilding together

You’re not inconsistent. You’re cyclical.

Your energy rises, dips, resets, shifts, expands, contracts.
Your motivation changes.
Your brain chemistry changes.
Your capacity changes.

That isn’t a flaw in your design—it is your design.

And the more you push ourselves to show up the same every day, the more disconnected and defeated you feel.

Let’s talk about why.

You’re Human, Not a Robot

Most consistency advice is built on a machine model: same output, same schedule, same drive, every damn day.

But humans?
We’re rhythmic.
We’re seasonal.
We’re responsive.

Your system changes based on sleep, digestion, stress, weather, environment, and emotional load—sometimes subtly, sometimes dramatically.

Some days you wake up clear and focused.
Some days you feel scattered.
Some days you feel grounded and slow.
None of this is inconsistency.

It’s intelligence.

Note for Women & Biologically Cyclical Bodies:

If you move through a monthly hormonal cycle, your energy and capacity shift even more:

• Follicular: rising motivation + creativity

• Ovulation: peak clarity + confidence

• Luteal: increased sensitivity + focus

• Menstruation: grounding, rest, introspection

The world calls this inconsistency.
Biology calls it a cycle.

You’re not meant to feel the same for 30 days straight — and there’s nothing wrong with you when you don’t.

You Don’t “Fall Off.” You Transition.

Zoom out far enough and everything in nature confirms it:

The moon waxes and wanes.
Tides rise and fall.
Plants grow, bloom, rest, regenerate.
Breath expands and releases.

So why would your motivation or energy be magically constant?

You are designed to slow down, speed up, coast, and stop.
You’re body is shifting.
And consistency just takes on a different form.

True Consistency Isn’t Sameness. It’s Connection.

Here’s the part that changes everything:

Real consistency isn’t doing the same thing every day.
It’s staying connected to your needs every day.

Connection looks different depending on your capacity:

Some days it’s a full workout.
Some days it’s a quiet walk.
Some days it’s five deep breaths.
Some days it’s saying “not today.”

Connection is how you consistently show up for yourself.
And the expression is allowed to shift.

Your Energy Type Shapes Your Rhythm

Ayurveda describes three universal energy types (doshas) that live in all of us.

☁️ Air energy → creative bursts, scattered thoughts, sensitivity, rapid shifts
🔥 Fire energy → clarity, drive, focus, intensity, “get it done” energy
🌿 Earth energy → groundedness, steadiness, calm, slower activation

Depending on which one is your original nature (born with it higher than the other 2) or which is more active in your body or mind on any given day, your version of consistency will look different.

This is why one-size-fits-all routines never work.
You are in constant flux.

Note for Women & Cyclical Bodies:

Your energy types often shift along with your cycle:

• Air energy increases when hormones drop

• Fire energy peaks around ovulation

• Earth energy rises in the late luteal phase

Understanding this softens the self-judgment, and improves self compassion.
You don’t have “good weeks” and “bad weeks.”
You have different weeks.

And each one needs something unique:

• Air energy is balanced with grounding practices and warmth.

• Fire energy is balanced with cooling foods and watery practices or places.

• Earth energy is balanced with activating breath and heat.

When You Honor Your Rhythm, Everything Works Better

Life gets easier when you stop fighting your natural cycles and start working with them.

Instead of guilt, you feel clarity.
Instead of burnout, you feel balance.
Instead of assuming something’s wrong, you get curious.

You shift from:
“What’s wrong with me?”
to
“How do I feel, today?”

That one mindset shift rebuilds the line of communication with yourself.

What Cyclical Consistency Looks Like

For everyone:

• adjusting your routine based on capacity

• honoring your body instead of overriding it

• viewing ebb and flow as part of the process

• seeing variation as normal (with exception, i.e. sleep)

• letting your rhythm guide your habits

And for women specifically:

• syncing your habits with your hormonal rhythm

• giving your body different forms of support weekly

• redefining productivity based on your cycle

• trusting that your slower days have purpose

• knowing nothing about your rhythm is a flaw

Women aren’t inconsistent.
Women are brilliantly, biologically cyclical.

Gentle Reminders

You are not inconsistent.
You are not undisciplined.
You are not “falling off” the wagon.

You are rhythmic.
You are seasonal.
You are responsive.
You are whole.

Consistency isn’t linear—it’s cyclical.
And when you honor that, you start living with your own rhythm.

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