The Push Back into Purpose

I tried everything I could to escape this calling. For 17 years, I fought it. I didn’t want to do this work — it was exhausting, lonely, and overwhelming. I felt like I was going crazy. The pain, the nudging, the never-ending sensations in my body that demanded attention — they followed me everywhere.I worked on myself constantly, trying to make the feelings go away. I even started a completely different business carving candles, and it took off. It was creative, fun, and profitable. For a while, I thought maybe I had finally found something I could do instead. But deep down, I knew the fascia work was still waiting.Then we moved to San Antonio for my husband’s military assignment. One day, I was simply walking my dog — not pulled, not tripped — and something invisible wrapped around me and pushed me forward. I landed hard on my right arm. The bone snapped. Surgery followed. A metal plate. Pain.I don’t take painkillers, so a doctor friend introduced me to a pain cream from Atlanta. My sister, who had a bulging disc and couldn’t find relief from anything, reluctantly let me try it on her. I used the cream and started working on her fascia lines. She slept through the night pain-free for the first time in years.That experience reminded me why I do this work. It’s not about the cream. It’s about the hands that apply it — my hands — and the fascia lines I follow. Even with a cast on my arm, I started selling the cream on military bases, connecting with people in pain. I massaged it into their bodies — and of course, I couldn’t touch them without instinctively following the lines.

That’s when I realized: breaking my arm wasn’t an accident. It was divine intervention — a harsh, loving push back into my path. I had ignored the signs, so the universe made it unmistakably clear. I had a choice, but not really. My soul had already chosen.

Even then, I resisted getting licensed as a massage therapist. I didn’t want that label. It felt limiting — like it couldn’t capture what I really did. But my husband was facing his own crisis after eight deployments. He had PTSD. He didn’t know what he wanted in life. We were both standing at a crossroads.

I needed to ground myself. To build something. To step into this calling fully.

So in 2017, I enrolled in massage therapy school. As soon as I said yes, everything began to align. My husband started healing. Our life stabilized. And I began the formal process of stepping into the work that had been calling me for decades.

It wasn’t just about fascia. It was about surrender.