Somatic Breathwork
Somatic Breathwork is an experience that uses intentional breathing to help you slow down and reconnect with your body.
Stress, difficult experiences, and emotions don't always disappear just because we keep moving. We can carry them with us in ways we don't always recognize until we finally slow down long enough to notice.
Through intentional breathing, Somatic Breathwork creates space to release some of what you've been carrying. Instead of trying to figure everything out, you're invited to notice what is happening within you and allow your body to respond in the way it needs.
There is no one way a session is supposed to look. You may feel emotion. You may move. You may become deeply still. You may simply notice something you haven't noticed before.
This work isn't about forcing a breakthrough. It's about creating space to notice what you've been carrying, release what you're ready to let go of, and reconnect with yourself.
About me
Registered Nurse • Integrative Health Practitioner • SomatIQ™ Breathwork Practitioner • Trauma-Informed Breathwork Facilitator
For more than 20 years, I served in the U.S. Army, first as an enlisted soldier and later as an Army Nurse Officer. Much of my professional life has been spent caring for people, understanding the body, and helping others navigate their health.
Today, my work looks a little different.
Through The Restored Body, I work with women who are used to being the ones who can handle it. They take care of their families, show up for their work, carry the responsibilities, and keep going, even when they're overwhelmed, anxious, exhausted, or know something needs to change.
My work gives women an opportunity to slow down long enough to recognize what is happening within them, give space to what they've been carrying, and become more aware of what they need instead of automatically pushing through.
I bring my background as a nurse and health practitioner together with Somatic Breathwork because I believe there is value in understanding what's happening in our bodies, but I also know that understanding something isn't always the same as experiencing it.
This work is personal to me because I've lived my own version of holding everything together while falling apart underneath it.
That's the part of my story I want to share with you next.
My story
I remember the day I was admitted to the psychiatric unit. Just a few months before, it seemed, I had achieved the rank of Major and been accepted into Georgetown University’s Family Nurse Practitioner Program. But now I found myself in a cold bed with a sheet, a blanket, and a direct line of sight to the nurse’s station. Zero privacy. Zero dignity. I wasn’t even in my own underwear, but boxers from the supply closet.
I had worked so hard to prove myself capable and worthy, but I took it too far. How did I get here without anyone noticing? I felt silly and weak. I felt like I broke. I didn’t make it out of the Army successful and proud. I felt like I had failed. How do you recover from a psychotic break? How do you walk with your head up as everyone gossips about you?
After 21 days, I was discharged home. I couldn’t be left alone, so my dad and husband watched me. The more I described my symptoms, the more my medications were increased. I didn’t know any better. I was scared of myself, so I kept taking the medication. Eventually, I became aware enough to realize I wasn’t being helped. I was being numbed.
With a brand-new baby in my arms, I knew I had to get through whatever had overcome me because I had to take care of her. I couldn’t take my own life. I couldn’t leave her.
Eventually, I started seeing a different therapist. She was willing to look beyond what I was saying and become curious about what else might be happening. She was learning about other modalities and integrated breathing and somatics into our sessions when appropriate. She led me to Somatic Breathwork.
I learned my body had answers. I needed to learn to feel instead of just think my way through everything. I thought I needed to escape reality with medicine. That was what I was led to believe. More symptoms meant more medication, until I learned that it’s normal to feel and to be uncomfortable. For me, that’s what needed to happen to release and let go of the sadness, pain, fear, frustration, shame, and guilt I was carrying.
I learned to be still. I learned what it was like to feel safe and began to understand the spiraling thoughts, constant thoughts of self-harm, heaviness in my chest, and tightening in my throat. I learned that I had a role in my own healing. That I could listen to myself, trust what I was feeling, and respond to what I needed instead of constantly overriding it.
I was the medicine. Not because I had to figure everything out or heal myself alone, but because I finally understood that I couldn’t keep leaving myself out of my own healing.
I had been taught to silence myself, to be agreeable, to say yes anyway, and to ignore my desires because society taught me to want more, to always be excelling, to live the American Dream. But at what cost?
I had spent so much of my life trying to prove to everyone that I was good enough. Now, I am learning that I don’t have to earn my worth by how much I accomplish, how much I carry, or how much other people need me.
And I know I am not the only woman who lies about being okay. I see the woman who wants more but doesn’t quite have the words for it. The woman who is tired of always being strong but is afraid to let anyone see the vulnerable parts of her. The woman who has spent so much time trying to be who everyone else needed her to be that she isn’t even sure who she is anymore.
I see the sadness even through the smiles. I know her because I was her. And if I’m not careful, sometimes I am still her. That’s why I share my story.
I want other women to know there is another way to live. One where your needs matter. Your peace matters. Your relationships matter. And you don’t have to lose yourself trying to be everything for everyone else.
That’s why I created The Restored Body. I wanted to create the kind of space I needed. Not another person telling me who to be or giving me all the answers, but a place where women can slow down long enough to pay attention to what is happening within them, listen to what they need, and begin making choices from that place.
Because I don’t want you to become a better version of the woman who can carry it all. I want you to know who you are when you finally put some of it down.
You can’t keep carrying everything and expect to feel different. Release some of what you’ve been holding and make space for what you need now.