There’s something about the way time softens edges. When she was younger, she was a loud storm. Strong opinions, sharp words, decisions that didn’t always make sense to the child standing beneath her. I learned to defend myself, to brace myself, to bend, to push back and create my own way of being far from the places I didn’t want her to fit. And somewhere in all of that… distance grew. Not always loud. Not always obvious. But there. Then time did what it always does. It kept moving. The hands that should’ve supported me —now reach for support. The voice that carried authority carries anxiety and grief instead. And the roles begin to blur in a quiet, almost sacred way. Because here’s the truth no one prepares you for: You don’t take care of your parents because they got everything right. You take care of them because they were part of your beginning. Because love isn’t always neat. It doesn’t require agreement or a perfect past. Our past is now history. Sometimes love is simply showing...
Mirrored; the Healing in the Hair. Behind the Chair, Through the Fire: Why We Never Walk Away Most people see a hair appointment as a luxury—a routine hour of pampering. But for those of us behind the chair, that chair is a sacred space, and the appointment book is a lifeline. I’ve spent my career navigating a whirlwind of personal trauma that would have leveled most. I’ve survived a fire and a flood. I’ve endured the terror of domestic violence and the fight of my life against cancer. I’ve navigated the complex grief of losing my children’s father and the transitions of three marriages. Through every surgery, every tear, and every disaster, there was one constant: I showed up for my clients. The Silent Toll : A Body in Service. What my clients don't always see is the physical price of that commitment. In this industry, we are our own health hazards. I have stood behind that chair while battling the widespread, invisible fires of fibromyalgia and arthritis. I’ve work...