Before chronic pain rerouted everything, I was 19, working as a makeup artist, living for the nightlife, and chasing a version of success that was all about how things looked on the outside. I thought I had it all figured out.

But then, pain hit, and it didn’t leave.

I was in and out of hospitals, bouncing between specialists, doing test after test, and trying meds that never really helped. Meanwhile, my friends were off living their wild 20s, and I was stuck in survival mode. I felt like life was happening without me. Like I was falling behind, watching everything I thought I’d be slip through my fingers.

The resentment was loud. And honestly, so was the pain.

Over the next decade, things got harder. The fatigue, the full-body pain, and the cramps that would knock me out became my new normal. By my mid-20s, I was diagnosed with central pain syndrome, and later, in my late 20s, stage 4 endo.

I spent years searching for answers in the system but kept walking away feeling dismissed, unseen, like no one was really connecting the dots. So eventually, I took matters into my own hands. I started studying nutrition, herbal medicine, and nervous system regulation. Slowly, things began to shift. That heavy resentment softened into a kind of clarity. Pain, weirdly enough, became my teacher.

It showed me what I was made of. It made me slow down and listen to my body. It reconnected me with parts of myself I’d buried.

And the biggest thing I learned?
Pain is so deeply misunderstood. We’re taught to treat it like a symptom, something to suppress or fight. But it’s not that simple. Pain is layered—emotional, physical, spiritual. It’s communication. It’s body language.

Now, I help people decode that language.
To come home to themselves.
To shift the story around pain.

Because healing isn’t about fixing what’s broken… It’s about remembering who you are underneath it all.