I didn’t leave therapy because I stopped believing in it. I left because my nervous system outgrew it.
For a long time, it was home. A space to hold grief, decode childhood, make meaning of what felt like chaos. For my clients, it was often the first time they were ever truly seen.
But after over a decade in the field, I started to feel it. That quiet discomfort in my chest when a session ended and I knew… it wasn’t enough.
We were talking in circles. Healing in theory. Naming the patterns—but not embodying new ones. I couldn’t pretend it was working anymore.
So I walked away. From the title. The clinical systems. The room that had once felt sacred but now felt sterile.
I thought coaching would be different, but coaching has its own kind of performance with a whole lot of phony.
I watched women, get dressed up in their confidence. Talking about embodiment, while quietly disassociating.
Selling safety in a grid post, while struggling to feel safe in their own skin. It felt fake. Trendy. Marketable healing, wrapped in soft fonts and trauma-informed buzzwords.
I didn’t want to lead like that. I didn’t want to be consumed like that. So I left again.
And that’s when I entered the void.
That quiet space between what I knew how to do and what I was being called to build.
No job title. No neat pitch. Just this ache in my chest, and a knowing that there had to be another way.
I started seeing what most people don’t want to say out loud.
Women using therapy as a stand-in for community. Turning to their therapist for connection, instead of reflection. Pathologizing everything, overthinking joy, second-guessing rest, narrating their every emotion until it stopped feeling real.
They were too aware for therapy, but not yet embodied enough to live their awareness.
We talk so much about nervous system healing, but the truth is, you can’t regulate your way into wholeness in isolation or silos.
Polyvagal Theory teaches us that safety is relational. The nervous system doesn’t settle through insight—it settles through co-regulation and shared presence.”
You don’t complete your healing in a one-hour session. You complete it in the moment someone holds your gaze during your spiral. When you say the uncomfortable thing, and no one flinches. When you’re angry or afraid or messy—and you’re still met with love.
That’s what therapy couldn’t offer. That’s what coaching couldn’t handle.
So I created what I couldn’t find:
A space where we stop performing our healing and start living our truth.
HER Healing Hub was never meant to be a program. It’s a practice. A place where we remember that healing isn’t a solo sport.
Where we:
- Expand through healthy conflict instead of hiding from it
- Learn to sit with discomfort instead of outsourcing our power
- Grow in connection instead of collapsing into comparison
Community isn’t about finding people just like you. It’s about finding the ones who let you be all of you—without flinching.
If you’re feeling the ache, the in-between, the internal tug-of-war…
I want you to know: you’re not broken. You’ve just outgrown the systems that taught you to fix yourself instead of feel yourself.
A Ritual to Begin HER Era
The Integration Mirror
- Sit with yourself—no goals, no affirmations, no healing tone of voice.
- Place one hand on your heart, the other on your belly.
- Look into your own eyes and say:
“I trust you. You don’t need to be fixed to be free.”
Let that be the first of many moments where you stop rehearsing healing and start returning to yourself.
HER Era isn’t a phase. It’s a homecoming. If you’re ready to stop talking about the work and start living it, welcome home.
