The Story Behind My Work : Loss, Resilience, and Finding My ShiNe

7/4/2024

Many people talk about a single moment that changed their life. I don’t have one of those moments—my life has been anything but a neat, straight line. It’s been messy, winding, and full of lessons I didn’t always want to learn, along with secrets I felt I had to keep. As I often say, “I’m a little slow on the uptake, but once I catch on, I’m golden.” Every twist and turn has shaped who I am today and brought me here—to this moment, where I can finally see where I’ve been, where I want to go, and, most importantly, speak my truth without fear.  It has been marked by heartbreak, loss, and remarkable resilience.

I have had two husbands, two significant relationships, and my father pass over to the other side. I’ve faced alcoholism, which led to three stints in County Jail. I fought a fierce battle with CPS—and lost. I’ve endured extreme financial hardship, including having to file for bankruptcy.

Some moments were tragic in a way that’s almost funny. Like when I was 19, traveling to see my boyfriend—later my first husband—in Joliet. I flew to Chicago and was supposed to catch a train, but I missed it. I had never been on a train before and had no idea how the system worked. I ended up stranded in a downtown Chicago train station for hours. Picture this: a girl from northern Minnesota in her favorite wool sweater with a duck on it, a blonde ponytail, and a look of pure terror that screamed, “Easy target!” It was winter, and I was certain I wouldn’t make it out alive. I don’t even remember boarding the train or the ride to Joliet—I was so scared I think I just detached from myself.

Then there were the deeply tragic moments. I learned that my first husband Jack, had taken his own life two days after my second husband died.

John, and I had built what looked like a dream life. But the financial strain of living beyond our means pushed us to the brink of divorce. Before we could finalize anything, he died of a heart attack in his sleep. We were only 40.

Left to raise our two beautiful daughters, who had already experienced their own traumas as foster children before we adopted them, I moved back to my hometown to be with my parents.  Shortly thereafter, my father passed away from glioblastoma, afterwhich, my mother’s dementia quickly progressed. She came to live with me and life at home became a surreal mix of caregiving and chaos, with silverware in the freezer, watered artificial plants, and missing laundry.

Add to it all the additional stress of a teenage pregnancy and a horrifying battle with CPS and I was left with a constant sense that something was off and everything was sure to go very wrong at any moment.

Amidst all this, I was always trying to improve myself. I got my BS in Psychology and my License for Alcohol and Drug Counseling, hoping to help others navigate their struggles. But over time, the work drained me. I was burned out, constantly giving without receiving anything that refueled me. At home, my daughter was struggling to find stability while raising my grandson, and I felt helpless to fix it.

In search of clarity, I took a solo road trip to Arizona to visit my sister. While I was gone, my business partner relapsed into drinking, which felt like an unspoken permission slip for me to start again, too. At first, it seemed harmless, but it quickly spiraled. Drinking wasn’t just stealing my evenings—it left me with a constant, suffocating guilt I couldn’t shake.

Adding to it all, I became entangled with a narcissist. He crushed my spirit, convincing me that my way of being wasn’t valid, that I was wrong for wanting to live life on my terms. The relationship left me so broken that I ended up in the hospital after a suicide attempt—something I had never struggled with before. I finally told him to leave, but even that felt like a battle for my sanity.

Looking back, I understand why so many people have said to me, “Holy shit, girl, I don’t know how you do it.” My response has always been, “Well, the alternative doesn’t sound like much fun.” So I kept going, trying to ignore the despair that lingered inside me.

Through it all, there was a small voice within me that whispered, “This isn’t who you are, and this isn’t where you’re meant to stay.” That voice led me to pursue a Master’s Certification in Life Coaching. At first, I doubted myself—how could I help others when I was still figuring things out? But then I realized my struggles didn’t disqualify me; they made me relatable. People don’t need perfect coaches—they need real ones who understand the trenches and know how to keep moving forward.

My experiences have given me tools to help others uncover their potential, challenge limiting beliefs, and reconnect with the parts of themselves they’ve lost. I’ve walked through darkness and found light on the other side. That’s what I want to share—a bridge for others to find their own light.

This journey isn’t about being perfect; it’s about being human. I know I’m a work in progress, and that’s okay. My story isn’t a burden—it’s a gift that connects me to those I’m meant to help. This is where I’ve been and where I’m going: toward a life of purpose, connection, and the belief that we all carry greatness within us, waiting to be discovered.

May you Find Your ShiNe and share your light wherever you go.