I'm a grief coach, death worker, and recovered workaholic who spent a decade learning how to come back to life and reclaim my soul's magic.

For years, I was the person burning the midnight oil, doing the work of three people, running from meeting to meeting convinced I was fighting the good fight. My mission justified the exhaustion. Five miles after work five days a week meant I was healthy. The truth? My body was screaming — and I wasn't listening.

At 28, my legs started swelling daily. Doctors dismissed it as "my age." When we finally ran every test, the diagnosis hit like a death sentence: an autoimmune response my rheumatologist couldn't yet name.

I didn't stop working. I was a workaholic chasing a dream I'd spent years building, convinced I could push through if I just tried hard enough. Then a kinesiologist looked me in the eyes and said: "You are not okay. You have the stress response I've only seen in refugees. Your body is breaking down."

Still, that wasn't my rock bottom. Mine came two years later — after running COVID-19 pandemic response teams, losing two beloved people, a miscarriage, a divorce, and arriving at the edge of complete collapse: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual.

When I finally couldn't do my job well anymore, I stopped. Six months of medical leave. It took three months just for my nervous system to stop screaming.

That was the beginning of a decade-long healing journey — learning how to grieve, how to rest, how to listen to my body, how to build a life and work that actually sustains me.

Here's what I know now: you're not broken. You're struggling in a system designed to extract, not sustain. Capitalism needs you productive, not rested. Colonization severed us from our grief practices, our connection to earth and community. Your burnout isn't personal failure — it's the system working exactly as designed.

I'm a practicing pagan and trained death midwife. My work combines grief coaching, somatic practice, death work, and ritual — rooted in the truth that burnout is often unprocessed grief, and healing requires honoring what we've lost before we can reclaim what we truly want.

You don't have to wait until you hit rock bottom. You don't have to figure this out alone. Together, we reclaim the sacred ways we used to hold one another.