10/27/2026
A year ago, I kept saying “I’m fine” long after my body had stopped agreeing.
It was October, and I was deep in the work of owning two clinical practices, providing services across north-central South Dakota, raising six kids, being married to a farmer, and still trying to build Wholehearted.
I was a trauma specialist, and much of my work was with children.
I took pride in being the steady one. The storykeeper. The person who could sit with things that were hard to hear and not flinch.
But eventually, my body started keeping score.
Tremors.
Shaking.
Brain fog.
High blood pressure.
Insomnia.
I kept pushing.
I kept telling myself I could handle one more thing.
One more client.
One more responsibility.
One more season.
Eventually, I couldn’t.
I remember thinking, “Who am I if I’m not the one taking care of everyone else?”
That question changed me.
Because the truth was, I had built a life around being useful.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped asking whether that life was sustainable.
I miss parts of that work deeply.
But I do not miss the way I felt.
I can breathe now.
I can think more clearly.
I can notice my own life again.
And I find myself leaning more and more into Wholehearted because this is exactly what I believe:
We should not have to reach burnout, breakdown, diagnosis, or crisis before we are allowed to receive care.
Sometimes the bravest thing is noticing sooner.
Naming what is happening.
Nourishing what has been depleted.
And navigating differently before your body has to force the decision for you.
So here’s the question I’m sitting with this week:
What has your body been trying to tell you that you’ve been too busy to hear?
