This Is My "Why?"

Life can hit you out of nowhere, and those hits can really leave a mark. I figured this out pretty early on in my Navy days. The tough demands of service didn't just push my physical limits; they also left some deep emotional scars. Those early years were like a trial by fire, shaping me in ways that were often tough and hard to put into words. Even now, almost twenty years later, those memories still pop up and haunt me, reminding me of the battles I faced, both on the outside and inside.

But honestly, nothing could have prepared me for the deep heartbreak of losing my twins. The pain started when one of my sons passed away just three hours after he was born, which completely shattered my world. My other son quietly left us overnight, leaving me to deal with a grief that changed who I am. This kind of loss isn't just about losing a life; it tears apart your heart, your identity, and your feeling of security in a world that suddenly seems unpredictable and harsh.

In the middle of all this heartache, I found a bit of hope at the VA hospital. The folks there weren't just doctors and nurses; they became my lifeline when I felt like I was drowning. Their kindness and support were crucial during that tough time. After the loss, I unexpectedly became a full-time mom to my two stepkids. This was a role I didn't see coming, and I wasn't ready for the emotional rollercoaster it brought.

Honestly, I wasn't prepared for this new motherhood chapter. I didn't feel ready to handle such a big responsibility, and I definitely didn't ask for it. I was still deep in my own grief, feeling lost and barely holding it together. But life keeps moving, whether we're ready or not. I had to adapt, learn, and be there for my stepkids every day. Over time, I grew into this role, and now I love and care for them as if they were my own.

People often assume I wanted this life of motherhood, and while I did, not under these circumstances. My dream didn't include losing my kids or becoming a mom through tragedy. But despite everything, I stayed. I chose to keep going, even when I felt like giving up. There were dark times when I didn't want to be here. It wasn't just sadness; it was a deep emptiness. I didn't want to wake up each day, feeling like life had been taken from me. My mind was a mess of thoughts I couldn't quiet.

Eventually, I was diagnosed with severe OCD, which helped me understand the mental chaos I was dealing with daily. I get why some people think about giving up. I've been in that dark place where the pain feels louder than any hope. It's a place where even breathing feels hard and just existing seems impossible.

But then... something changed. It wasn't a big revelation, just a small, quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, there was still something left for me. A flicker of hope that my story wasn't over.

So I pushed on. I fought my way out of the darkness. I held on, not just for me, but for my kids, my future, and the life I still wanted. Fitness became my lifeline during this chaotic time. It gave me a sense of control over my body and mind. I've always loved learning, driven by curiosity and a desire to grow. With degrees in Cardiovascular sonography, public health, and health sciences, I became an ACE-certified personal trainer. This journey led to my business, Core E Motions—a space built on the belief that true strength starts at the core: emotionally, mentally, and physically.

Today, I'm a proud mom of six—some biological, some through love and choice. I'm passionate about having honest talks with my kids about mental health. I want them to know that PTSD, trauma, OCD—these aren't weaknesses. They're challenges we live with, not burdens to be ashamed of. While I've never acted on my darkest thoughts, I've been there. I know what it's like to want the pain to stop, to look for a way out of the emotional shipwreck in the waves of emotions. But I also know what it takes to stay, to rise, and to rebuild from the past.

My healing journey has been shaped by therapy, a mix of natural and conventional medicine, and a lot of hard, private work. I still deal with social anxiety, affecting my work and relationships, but I'm learning to navigate it. I'm finding peace in progress, accepting that perfection isn't the goal. Fitness became my anchor, providing stability amid the chaos. My family has been my rock, but ultimately, it's my own resilience that has saved me time and again. I share my story not for pity but to show that rising from the ashes is possible. I want to be more than just a fitness trainer; I aim to be a guiding light for anyone who feels like they can't go on. Through my blog, Instagram, and TikTok, I hope to eventually share workouts, homesteading stories, mental health tools, and the raw truths of rebuilding after trauma.

Music and movement have become therapy for me. I often create workouts inspired by emotion, letting the rhythm move the pain, release it, and turn it into something powerful. As Eric Church says, "connect a melody to a memory."

My vision is clear: to make fitness accessible to everyone—veterans, those with PTSD, moms, women, men, and anyone who feels lost and unsure of who they are or where to start. I want to show others what I've learned: You can rise, even from the darkest places.

This is my story—fueled by loss, held together by grit, and driven by love. I hope it serves as a beacon of hope, helping you find your own strength, one breath, one rep, and one moment at a time.