Lately, it has been hot, so I decided to do something that would make life a little easier. I cooked a bunch of different meals in the crock pot, put them into containers, and froze them. That way, when the weather is hot, I wouldn't have to do much cooking. Then a flyer came in from the local Mexican market. They had pineapples, plantains, mangoes, watermelon, cucumbers—fresh fruits and vegetables at really good prices. They also had beef shanks. So after the gym, I had my caretaker take me to the store. I already had plenty of food at home. I had meals in the freezer, food in the refrigerator, and everything I needed. I wasn't going to the store because I was running out of food. But when I got there, something happened. I felt happy. The store was colorful and full of fresh food. I could choose one of this, two of that, three of something else. I wasn't limited to whatever quantity happened to come in a package. I could actually look at what I wanted and decide what I wa...
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After my stroke, I reached a point where I was physically and emotionally exhausted in a way that nothing else could explain. I was carrying dense, heavy energy — layers and layers of unresolved trauma, fear, guilt, and stagnant emotion that had accumulated over decades.
At almost 60 years old, that energy wasn’t just psychological—it was in my body, in my biofield, in my meridians. And that energy overload wasn’t just tiring—it was blocking me from moving forward, healing, or even resting properly.
But here’s the catch: most people never learn how to clear that stuff, how to gently release it without retraumatizing themselves, or how to restore balance when everything feels stuck.
That’s the invisible trap. If you don’t clear it, it builds. It thickens. And eventually, it can stop you in your tracks.
Why This Matters in the Healing Journey
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It’s a real experience—one that many people don’t talk about because it’s invisible and confusing.
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It’s a sign that healing isn’t just about positive thinking or “faith” alone; it’s about energetic maintenance.
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It explains why so many people with trauma or chronic illness feel like they’re hitting a wall no matter what they do.
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It sets the stage for teaching others how to clear, ground, and restore themselves safely and effectively.
Insert from my upcoming book:
I had my stroke during COVID. I was supposed to be in rehab to get physically stronger — that’s what they told me. I was recruited into the facility with the promise of getting me moving right away. But instead, I laid in a bed for three days — untouched, ignored, like a body without a story. Time was of the essence, and as the hours slipped by, I realized the deeper truth: not only was my body broken, but my spirit was too. In that numb, sterile room, something inside me stirred awake.
It wasn’t just my body that had shattered. No amount of physical therapy could reach the heaviness I felt in my chest, my gut, the places doctors don’t check. I didn’t have words for it then, but I knew it wasn’t medical — it was spiritual. Dense, heavy, ancient, like I’d been carrying it for lifetimes.
And that’s when I made a choice. I knew I would fight harder for myself than anyone else ever could. I knew if I went home, I would start my rehabilitation right away, instead of lying in that bed, waiting for false promises to come true. So I checked myself out. Not because I was healed, but because I understood the healing I needed wasn’t going to happen in a hospital. My body was broken, yes — but my soul was begging me to come home. That was the day I realized my real rehab had nothing to do with medicine, and everything to do with going inward.
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