Curating Sanctuaries for Authentic Healing
What I might not always realize about myself is just how deeply my own journey has shaped the space I hold for others. I’ve carried the weight of some profoundly vulnerable moments: losing my baby Clara, navigating the turbulent teenage years with Maya, managing my parents' health crises, overcoming a multi-decade eating disorder, and dealing with my own ongoing health challenges. Layered on top of these struggles was the exhaustion that crept in after years in a career I loved, one that gave me so much purpose but eventually stretched me thin. These experiences have left their marks, cracks and resilience intertwined, but I’ve taken them and crafted something meaningful from the pieces.
Recently, after hosting a retreat in Haliburton, I was able to truly witness the power I have to curate experiences that are both profound and healing. This retreat showed me that I’m not just organizing gatherings; I’m creating a sanctuary where people can come exactly as they are, sometimes feeling fractured, overwhelmed, exhausted, or simply needing a timeout to recharge. In these spaces, I guide them gently toward reconnecting with themselves, not by fixing anyone, but by offering a place where they can rediscover their own inner strength. This feels almost instinctual for me, likely because my own experiences have made this process second nature.
It’s easy to focus on making sure the experience is meaningful for others and forget how deeply I’m living those same values. The rituals I create, the quiet moments of reflection I facilitate—these aren’t just for those attending my retreats; they’re essential to my own healing journey as well. Every time I lead, I’m reminded of what truly matters: being present, finding comfort where I can, and cherishing the small, sacred moments.
And it’s not just about cozy blankets or lighting a candle; it goes so much deeper. I’ve shared my struggles, my illnesses, my grief. These experiences have shaped not just who I am, but how I hold space for others. It’s about sitting with discomfort, acknowledging life’s difficulties, and still seeking the light. That’s the real heart of what I do.
Hosting retreats has been a vision born from my own desire for a sanctuary during difficult years, particularly throughout my battle with an eating disorder. As a teenager, I longed for a space where I could truly heal, and now I feel honored to create that space for others. My retreats are so much more than just a getaway; they’re places of true transformation.
I sometimes overlook how much courage it takes to live this way, to keep evolving, to show up with authenticity, and to guide others while still on my own path. But maybe that’s where my real strength lies, in knowing that I don’t need to have all the answers. By creating a space where others can find their truth, I am also discovering mine. My work isn’t just about guiding people through transitions; it’s a reminder to all of us, myself included, that it’s okay to be in progress. Healing, growth, and self-discovery are ongoing journeys, and I’m on that path right alongside everyone else.
Now, as I step back from a career I cherished for over 20 years, I feel a renewed courage. It’s not easy to let go, to recognize when it’s time to move forward. Even though that chapter brought me purpose and joy, I know I can’t stay there if I want to continue evolving, both for myself and for those I guide.
After experiencing the impact of the Haliburton retreat, I feel grateful and excited for this path I’ve chosen. What I’m learning is that simply showing up, being present, and holding space for others is enough. It’s everything, really. And maybe the most important thing I can offer isn’t just guidance or wisdom; it’s the quiet reassurance that we’re all in this together, finding our way, one mindful moment at a time. Through my retreats, I’m offering the sanctuary I once longed for, a place where healing and transformation are not just possible, but inevitable, where peace and connection can grow for all of us, no matter where we are on our journeys.