The origin of Brave Journey

Two years ago, I returned from a trip that changed me.

I embarked on that trip hoping for healing. Hoping for the ability to breathe again. Hoping to find my way in what felt like an endless sea of waves that did nothing but crash over me. One after the other. Relentless waves of fear. Anxiety. Doubts. I felt wrecked, and I knew it.

I was blessed with having a place to go where people knew and loved me. And with the ability to get away and see if I could find my way again.

But I still felt like I was floundering. I was frustrated. Sad. Heart broken. Lost. I wondered if anything would ever feel right again. I could not see anything other than a damn, all-too-very-white, blank canvas before me.

What I didn’t realize is that what I needed was simple: to rest. To allow the pain. To feel the grief. To ask the questions. To make space to acknowledge life would not be the same again. To be angry about it. To not have a plan for a while. And to be ok with that. To stop trying to fix it or figure out what’s next just so I could stop feeling terrible, and maybe, maybe feel hope again.

What I needed was time. Time was the key to me one day dreaming again.

I just didn’t think it would take as long as it did to get to that part.

Today, I can look back and see how the time I spent doing the work of feeling all I needed to feel on that trip and afterward began to bear the fruit that is now my Brave Journey program. It’s bloomed into something new that feels more me than anything has in a long time, maybe ever. This program was born out of learning on that trip to cultivate my curiosity again—and to follow wherever it leads.

I hope you’ll be as excited as I am about this new cornerstone program. And I hope you’ll share the news with anyone who could benefit. 💕💕