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This was me in my 20s. I was a NASM certified personal trainer and avid powerlifter. No kids, a flexible job, elastic skin, and hours to burn in the gym. Back then, I told my (working) clients (with kids and lives) things like, “If you really wanted it, you would make it happen.” That version of me was well-intended but clueless on what level of strategy it actually takes to “make it happen.”

Then life knocked me flat.

I earned my master’s degree in counseling while pregnant. An emergency C-section and hysterectomy wrecked my body. Postpartum hit hard. I was exhausted, depressed and anxious. I relied on a cocktail of medication to cope. Swallowing pills was easier than facing the work of reorganizing my life, creating a system, and owning my new identity. I quit going to the gym.

I quit dreaming. I abandoned the idea of my doctorate and shrank into survival mode.

I was breathing, but I wasn’t living.

I worked nonstop, gave my family crumbs and grew angry. I had the education, certifications, and licenses that validated my knowledge of how to support one’s physical and mental health, yet I wasn’t putting it into practice in my own life.

I acted like I was drowning, even though I had the ability to swim.

Then life hit me from every direction. My mom died of pancreatic cancer in the spring. That summer my husband ended our marriage. Come December, my sister was hospitalized and our first Christmas without Mom was spent in a hospital room.

Grief cracked me open...and I began the slow climb out.

I stopped waiting for change to fall in my lap. I let go of my victim mentality and chose radical ownership instead. I sat with the ugly remnants of my life and took full ownership. It hurt, but it was mine to own. I rebuilt through discomfort, one intentional choice at a time.

I no longer rely on medication to cope. I feel sharper, more mentally sound and more in control than ever.