I know the road of recovery because I walk it, too

I never expected recovery to be my path. In 2012, after a short stay in jail and a night where I didn’t want to keep going, someone looked at me and said the words that cracked something open inside me: “Something’s gotta change.” I didn’t know how to live differently, but I knew I couldn’t keep living the way I was. I was angry, afraid, and drowning in an addiction that had taken everything from me — especially myself. I drank to feel alive, but all it did was numb me, hide me, and push me deeper into the darkness.

When I first stepped into recovery, I didn’t know who I was. I only knew how to shape-shift to survive, to be what others needed so I could feel accepted. I spent years white-knuckling my way through sobriety, disconnected from anything divine, anything healing, anything that felt like home. Life still moved forward — I married the love of my life, a man who grounds me, challenges me, and supports me in every season. I became a bonus mom to three beautiful children who are the light of my life and the clearest mirrors of why I need to keep healing and growing. But even with love around me, a foundation built on sand can’t hold forever. When I lost my connection to recovery and then lost my mother, I fell hard and questioned everything. The voices in my head grew louder than my desire to stay sober, and I spiraled back into chaos for three long years.

Finding my way back in 2019 opened a series of doors I didn’t even know existed. The first was community — a group of women who had walked the path before me and showed me I wasn’t alone. They didn’t just welcome me; they truly, deeply loved and accepted me. They gave me a safe place to remember who I was and discover who I could become. They supported me every step of the way, holding space for me in ways I had never experienced. For the first time, I felt what it was like to belong without performing, to be held without hiding, to be seen without shame.

The next door was meditation — the place I learned, for the first time, that I could come home to myself and be safe there. I had spent so much of my life avoiding myself, hiding myself, and putting myself in unsafe situations for the “high” — I didn’t trust myself anymore. Meditation gave me back my own presence.

Service opened another door — the realization that everything I had walked through had given me something precious to share. Along the way, I discovered spiritual gifts within myself — gifts of intuition, compassion, and connection that I believe live within all of us, waiting to be remembered. Tarot and Reiki became doors I could walk through and tools I could use to deepen those gifts. Now, as a Reiki master, I use them to walk beside women in recovery, helping them awaken to the truth and light already within them, trust their own inner wisdom, and find their way forward.

I found my wings again. I found myself again. And I learned how to walk through life connected, grounded, and whole — even when the lessons hit hard. Every moment became an opportunity to learn, to grow, to return to myself. I learned to love all of me — the good, the bad, and the in-between — because I am human, and being human is a gift.

Born to Fly Healing was created from that truth.

This is a sacred space for women in recovery — a place to land softly, breathe deeply, and remember who you are. A place where you are seen, heard, and felt. A place where you are safe. I don’t walk ahead of you or above you — I walk beside you. Together, we listen for your intuition, reconnect with your body, and rebuild the trust you thought you lost.

You are powerful. You are divine. You are enough.

And you don’t have to rise alone.

We rise together. Always.