Finding My Footing in the Midst of Chaos

Some seasons crack us wide open. 

What began as a subtle shift in my friendships and hormones quickly turned into a full-blown unraveling: emotionally, professionally, and physically. In this post, I share what it’s been like to lose my footing, confront my anger, and begin the slow work of rising again. If you’ve ever felt like the ground beneath you disappeared overnight, this one’s for you.

⸻

There are moments in life when we feel like we’ve got it all together. The schedule is humming along, the relationships feel intact, and work is flowing. We tell ourselves we’re grounded, secure, steady, anchored. But sometimes that “groundedness” is just a fragile veneer. One unexpected event, one moment of conflict, one personal or physiological shift, and it all unravels. The footing we thought was solid, turns out it was just a few stones barely stacked.

I recently experienced this kind of unraveling, a rupture that shook me to my core. I thought I was moving through life on solid ground, rooted in something steady. I hadn’t been paying close enough attention, as just beneath the surface, things had become unstable. So when everything cracked open, it felt like a free fall. Iin the aftermath, even the smallest things landed harder, cut deeper, and took longer to recover from.

The foundation of my closest friend group completely shattered.

This has truly been one painful chapter of my adult life. It’s broken me open, left me questioning everything about who I am, and made me feel like absolute shite about myself.

I’m done carrying the weight of a narrative that doesn’t tell the full truth.

My intention is that from these ashes, I’ll rise again, not to return to what was, but to begin something new. A new chapter. The shame and guilt I’ve been carrying are no longer helping me grow, they’re keeping me stuck.

I’m finally starting to understand that I can’t control what other people think of me. I can’t shape their version of the story. All I can do is choose how I move forward. And I am choosing honesty, integrity, and compassion for myself.

⸻

At 47, I find myself in the thick of perimenopause, a season that offers far more than night sweats and shifting cycles. It’s brought waves of emotional intensity I wasn’t fully prepared for. During this time, my window of tolerance drastically narrowed. My emotions surged like tides: overwhelming, unpredictable, and consuming.

I’ve craved space, solitude, and stillness.

I’ve had to pause long enough to not only face my own pain but to truly understand the pain of others.

My choice to be alone wasn’t about avoidance. It was about learning. About healing. To do that, I needed space to see clearly, to hold all perspectives, not just my own.

But that clarity has come with a cost. From the outside, it may have looked like I walked away.

What wasn’t visible was the effort it took to stay grounded. I wasn’t abandoning anyone. I was trying not to abandon myself.

At the end of the day, if I can say I show up honestly, without hiding behind rose-colored glasses, forcing a smile, or pushing my feelings deep down, I know I will breathe easier and stand taller. The truth is-as women, we’ve been taught to contain our emotions. To stay composed, agreeable, emotionally “manageable.” But that kind of suppression comes at a cost, not just emotionally, but physically.

I had been holding so much in: pain, confusion, fear, jealousy, frustration and I let it build until it could no longer be contained. I erupted. And in that eruption, I hurt people. My words, though rooted in real feelings and very real stories, were misinterpreted. Not because the pain wasn’t valid, but because the delivery was wrapped in fire.

My point is this-unspoken emotions don’t disappear. They find somewhere to live, whether in our tissues, joints, nervous system, or organs. What we don’t release, our bodies hold. And over time, that holding becomes suffering.

What I hope to share here, is a growing awareness and a willingness to walk a different path.

I want to keep learning how to name my grief, sadness, anger, and in ways that move me towards ease, balance, and a deeper connection with my truth. I refuse to walk this journey hiding behind a facade, responding with “I’m fine,” when I’m clearly not. When kindness is not reciprocated, I choose silence. I refuse to hide behind a lie, just so it can fit another’s narrative. I refuse to shrink, just to make someone else feel comfortable. I stand proud and strong in who I am and what I have worked so hard to build. I am honest. I am accountable. I am authentic.

_______

In the coming weeks, I’ll be bringing this theme into my Tuesday Yoga classes and the upcoming Align & Nourish workshop. Together, we’ll explore what it means to ground, root, and rise from the ashes of what once was. Whether you’re moving through heartbreak, hormonal shifts, or emotional upheaval, always know that in each of us lives a Phoenix who knows just how to rise above.

We’ll explore the root chakra, breath-work, intentional movement, and grounding postures. Classes may include guided meditation, mantra, laughter, stories, and above all else, honesty and integrity. We will lean into our practice to help us reconnect with our body, our strength, and our inner steadiness.

People sometimes question why I write these blogs or share so much of my inner world. I’ve been told it’s “too much.” These are my stories, my life, f they are too much for you-please use the unfollow button below. My transparency is not for everyone, but it is for some.

This is my healing. My voice. My truth.

⸻

So here I am, still standing, still healing, still finding my footing. Some days feel steady, others still shake beneath me. But I’ve stopped waiting for the ground to return to what it was. I’m learning to build something new. Slowly and honestly, stone by stone, brick by brick.

This season has stripped away so much-relationships, carefully laid plans, and even a dream I once held close. But it’s also revealed a deeper truth; my resilience doesn’t come from perfection or composure, it comes from my willingness to keep showing up. Even when it’s messy. Even when it hurts. Even when I feel completely undone.

In the word of Brené Brown-”my worth and my belonging is not negotiated with other people.”

If you’ve found yourself grieving, angry, misunderstood, or simply exhausted; know this: you are not alone. Whether it’s in this blog, in my Yoga classes, during a treatment at Sacred Juniper, or across a shared conversation, you have a place here. A place to exhale. A place to feel. A place to begin again. A place that is free of judgement.

This is not about being who others expect you to be. It’s about becoming who you are truly meant to be.

We rise, not because we are unshaken, but because we are willing to do the work, to speak the truth, and to reclaim ourselves from the silence.

With love and fire,