10 years ago, I graduated from Western Guilford High School. My dad had died a month before from cancer, and I had just broken up with my boyfriend.



I decided to attend Dickinson College which was 6 hours north of my hometown, and that August I moved to Carlisle, PA.



I knew no one.



The following year was spent in varying degrees of heartbreak. I clung to people I knew weren’t good for me.



I resisted drinking because of my background with the church which in turn cut me off from much of the social life.



I walked onto the lacrosse team, and then quit the next summer because the community was not right for me.



I spent sophomore year exploring all the clubs and communities. I was curious about Greek life and decided to rush but didn’t pledge. Again, I didn’t feel comfortable there.



It wasn’t until I discovered ROTC that I felt like I had found my niche. I was curious, and didn’t jump in hastily, I trained with the class and decided in time that I wanted to commit.



The rest of college was spent in dark & early workouts, weekends and summers of army training, painting alone in the art studio with music in my ears, country concerts with screaming fans and beer, loud parties with sticky floors, jungle juice & frat boys, and cigars on the back porch with whiskey & ROTC friends.



A swirling haze of exploration and hesitation.



6 years ago, I graduated from Dickinson College with a Bachelor of Arts in Religion.



Half a year later I had graduated from Transportation Basic Officer Leader’s Course in Fort Lee, VA and was on my way to Germany to live with a family in Munich and work as an Au Pair.



I went alone.



I knew no one where I was going, and I left my boyfriend of 3 years behind.



I worked in Munich for 7 months before going on orders with my reserve unit full time. I led a team in an international training exercise that was headquartered in Zaragoza, Spain.



I fell in love with that desert land almost immediately, with the language, the people, the lighthearted family and food centered way of life.



A year later I moved to Spain and found yoga, meditation, and real friends that understood who I was, because I was beginning to understand who I was.



I hiked the Camino de Santiago, a pilgrimage route that spans from southern France across to the Atlantic in the northwest of Spain.



I discovered more than just miles on this path. My world was split open and I could see all of life differently. I saw others for who they were, without my own veil of conditioning, I saw my passions and dreams for the first time without labels or doubts attached like cobwebs across my eyes.



The months that followed were spent integrating.



I attempted to tuck the tools and lessons I had come across on my travels down into the pockets of the clothes I had been wearing before I left. They didn’t fit.

And so began the process of renewal, of shedding my old skin.



Growth brings us new awareness, and with that awareness we are given the choice to reshape our reality.



2 years ago, I moved home to NC from La Rioja and began the long road of recovery from an illness that had attached itself to me for a reason.



But this time I wasn’t alone.



I needed help. And I needed to learn how to accept that help.



Independence and self sufficiency had become something of a creed to me. I didn’t realize the extent to which I had rejected accepting the support of others. I had it in my head that I was better off alone. I didn’t want to need anyone. Because then they could never let me down, right? And I could never be a burden to them.



This time in my life taught me that my thinking was flawed. People genuinely care, and asking for help is often necessary and doesn’t make me weak. On the contrary, it is a mark of my growth.



We need each other. And being able to receive is directly correlated to the abundance we are entrusted with



Over that past year in Spain, it had become glaringly clear that certain spaces where I had once felt at home no longer served me at all.

I realized that I could no longer continue along many of my paths, that some people and places weren’t ready for me, the me I knew I was born to be, and I had to cut many ties in an effort to protect my own energy and sanity.



I began the process of learning how to listen to my body, how to support myself physically, mentally and energetically with clean foods, herbs and plants with healing powers, breathing practices, movement practices and meditation.



I learned how to fully surrender, and how to trust.



I learned the importance of joy and play and imagination.



I remembered my passion for writing, and discovered my passion for yoga and wellness.



I reconnected to my home on this earth, to the beauty and abundance of our natural world.



I remembered that the key to life is love, and I am still learning what that means.



So, as I sit here now, on May 18, 2020 reflecting on the past 10 years, I can’t help but notice that this time of year tends to hold major changes for me.



I am grateful for every single thing that I have experienced because they have made me who I am.



Even the trauma, pain, anger, injustice, misunderstandings, unconscious decisions –I regret none of it.



Because it is all part of me, it has all taught me how to move forward, and carried me through to my next steps with love.



I feel more myself than I ever have.



I care less about the opinions of others than I ever have.



I finally love who I am, and feel comfortable in the skin I am in.



I hear the whispers of my own intuition more than ever, and I am choosing to listen.



Our lives are made up of bleeding silver stories bookended with new beginnings.



I am proud of who I am today, of what I have accomplished, endured, understood, and loved. I accept myself freely, wholly, exactly as I am in this very moment.



May my story encourage you to do the same.