Note: I wrote this a few weeks ago. I am feeling more grounded. It confirms that time is a healer and everything changes if you wait long enough.

I feel untethered.

My son graduated from a two year program and is starting two more years in August, my daughter graduated from high school and is starting college in August, my mom died in April and we moved to Florida last week.

I am in the midst of so much change and transition. Most of it is good. But, it is full of unknowns and the unknown is hard.

A mother is usually grounding, if you are lucky. You are physically tethered to her until the umbilical cord is cut. I do feel as if our souls are forever tethered, but I don’t have the luxury of her physical hugs anymore, a knowing glance, or her voice on the other end of the phone.

I am here in the present in Florida. I have stuck my feet into the sand, but my head and my heart is wondering what exactly is next. Where do I fit, what should I be doing?

There it is again, the “Human Doing” versus “Human Being.”

In April 2021 I had such a severe reaction to the COVID vaccine that I could not “Do” at all. I was stuck on the couch or in bed. It was scary. I felt the kind of crushing fatigue you get when you are ill with a virus, except it didn’t get better.

My body forced me to be a human being. I really wish it hadn’t taken a major health issue to get me to slow down and realize I was worthy just as I am.

Even without a health crisis, all humans go through big transitions. At these times we reevaluate life. I am in the midst of some of the biggest: selling a house, moving across the country, my youngest going off to college and my mom dying.

Where does that leave me exactly? It leaves me in a place of uncertainty. It leaves me in a place where I need to be open to newness. New friends, new places, new activities. But, the protective part of me wants to stay in and hide where it feels a little safer.

That untethered feeling has me scared. I don’t feel like I am my best self right now. It is hard to be when you feel unsure.

I am happy for warmer weather and sunshine. I know my body not only needs it, but thrives on it. Both my neurologist and rheumatologist recommended warmer weather and a sea level climate for the health issues I am dealing with.

I am grateful that I was able to make that happen together with my amazing husband and kids.

What’s next? I truly don’t know.

And maybe that’s the lesson I’m slowly learning. I don’t have to know yet.

For now, my feet are in the Florida sand. I am settling into a new home. I am grieving my mom while carrying her with me in new ways. I am learning, once again, that being untethered allows for room to grow.

Simply put, I am between what was and what will be.

Time has already begun to do what it always does. It has softened the sharp edges. I’m feeling more grounded than I was when I first wrote these words, and that reminds me that no season lasts forever.

P.S. If you are in Minnesota on August 9, I will be back for the YWCA Triathlon, where Minnesota Team Humanity will have 23 racers supporting those who experienced COVID vaccine injuries. We’d love to have you join us at Lake Nokomis wearing purple in support of Team Humanity.

My mom died three weeks ago. She was in hospice at her home 100% bedbound for nine weeks. It was intense.

My sister, who cared the heaviest part of that burden, and I were taking care of her. We had the help from hospice only for an hour or less at a time and usually only Monday through Friday.

She. Did. Not. (I repeat) Not. Go. Peacefully.

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This was the third time I have been with a loved one for their final breath. My dad died 21 years ago on Mother’s Day and my Grandpa died 26 years ago. Their deaths were in medical facilities. Their final hours included a slowing down of everything. It was peaceful.

I could unequivocally say, “My dad/my grandpa died peacefully” with the support of medication.

That was not the case with my mom. She was burning hot without a fever, breathing heavy, making moaning sounds, biting down when administering medicine. She took her final breaths in more of a panic and then went white.

It was painful to witness. It was obvious that she wasn’t comfortable.

My sister and I were following all of the directions from hospice to keep her comfortable and her last hours were not.

People don’t talk about death. And what we don’t talk about leads to shame and isolation.

I isolated myself. I told only a few close friends. I couldn’t talk about it for weeks. The images were too fresh. The feeling that I had failed my mother in her final days and hours kept me alone. I felt ashamed and bad for not giving her a more comfortable end.

I tried to distract myself with life while I spun those last few hours around in my head again and again. I recounted them to a few medical friends asking how it could be. Hospice had said it wasn’t typical. But, nothing about the previous 9 weeks had been typical.

On two different occasions we thought my mom was transitioning to death, but she bounced back. My mom was very willful. Despite the lack of quality of life, she was going to go on her time and on her terms.

But…I don’t think she would have wanted to physically go as she did. My sister and I were both there holding her hands and telling her it was ok to let go. But, I can assure you I wasn’t actually asking or telling, I was pleading with her to let go. It was too hard to watch and we had been on the roller coaster with her for 9 weeks.

I feel a bit funny sharing all of this as it is deeply personal, however, I really think people need to know that death can be very messy. My sister and I both wish that someone had given us both more of a heads up. We were in unchartered waters with not a lot of guidance.

And just like my mom’s death, I wish someone had also given me a heads up that my entire life, health and well being would or at least might be turned upside down after a severe reaction after my second COVID vaccine in April 2021.

It has been 5 years and I am still in unchartered waters with no real guidance outside of a few “ologists” who see me, hear me, believe me, and have gotten curious. They are willing to walk alongside me.

The other HUGE source of guidance I have gotten is from the Team Humanity COVID Vaccine Injured community and its supporters. We help each other like we are brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers even though we aren’t. What binds us together is our pain filled bodies and our lives that are upside down.

Over the past five years there have been times when the pain was so bad I isolated myself from friends and even sometimes from other new Team Humanity friends who understood from personal experience.

For me the COVID vaccine is a gift that seems to keep on giving and not in a good way. It’s exhausting.

I am tired of pills, supplements, therapies, surgeries, ER visits, hospital stays, vacations ruined due to medical issues, and so much money I would rather spend on any other thing.

I am tired that COVID vaccine injuries are still a politically hot topic which keeps us from moving forward with acknowledgment, support, and scientific research.

I do know one thing. Part of it comes from Ben Franklin’s quote and the second part comes from Greek philosophers. The only thing that is certain is death (Franklin) and change (Greek).

I watched my mom die. My sister and I were very certain it was going to happen. We didn’t know when or even how exactly. I expected it to be like my dad and grandpa and it wasn’t. But, her death was a certain fact. So is my death and so is your death.

Knowing this certainty about death, I am more careful how, with who, and where I spend my time. Life is precious and we don’t know how long we get.

The other thing I have learned well over the past 5 years is that change is also certain. Nothing stays the same. You can plateau for a while, but eventually things will change. Nature teaches us that every day with weather and seasons.

I learned, while dealing with extreme pain, that if I only wait long enough it will change. Sometimes it will declare what it needs, like removal of 10 inches of my colon. Or other times, the intensity will dial back for a while. When it is unbearable the certainty of change is what I hold onto.

Losing my mom was intense and lonely.

Having a COVID vaccine injury has also been intense and lonely.

What I know now is that isolation makes suffering heavier. Community makes it survivable.

We heal and thrive when we are connected to other humans who see us, hear us, and walk beside us.

Death is certain. Change is certain too.

So be deliberate about how, with who, and where you spend your time.

Photo: June 2018 - 100 miles into the 150 mile bike ride from Duluth, MN to Minneapolis, MN.

Five years ago today I took my second COVID vaccine. I was hopeful. I believed, as seen on TV, that it was safe and effective. Within weeks, I couldn’t walk unassisted.

Today, I am not going to outline all the ins and outs of my pain and suffering. I would rather use this day to share where I thought I, the medical world, society, and our government would be by now versus where we are…

Where I thought we would be…

Me:

• Back to 100% of my baseline.

• Riding my road bike up to 75 miles a day.

• My aches, pain and exhaustion would only come after extreme physical workouts, as it was before my shot.

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Medical world:

• There would be many studies of those who suffered reactions.

• All doctors would openly admit and show interest in helping those of us suffering from COVID vaccine reactions.

• Intravenous Immunoglobulin (IVIG) treatment, (used for those who suffer from Guillain Barre neurological issues after other vaccines), would become protocol for the acute stage after a COVID vaccine reaction.

Society:

• COVID Vaccine adverse injured people would receive empathy.

Government:

• The COVID Vaccine would be moved out of the Countermeasures Injury Compensation Program (CICP) and into the Vaccine Injury Compensation Program (VICP) so at least those who suffered from reactions could have some legal rights.

• There would be more support from Democrats for those who suffered adverse reactions as more facts about the types and number of adverse reactions surfaced.

Where I feel like we are…

Me (on my good days):

• Physically, I am 50% of where I was.

• I can take an ebike about 10 miles.

• My aches, pains and exhaustion are a constant that I have accepted as my new normal.

Photo: Me using an ebike for the first time.

Medical world:

• The Yale LISTEN Study is the only thorough study in the U.S. that I am aware of and they risked their careers to include the COVID vaccine injured.

• Most doctors still seem afraid to admit we exist let alone get curious and resourceful about trying to help us.

• Due to the lack of acknowledgement there is still no protocol to start IVIG treatment early on after a reaction and it takes most of us years to get it approved to be covered by insurance. At this point we are long past the acute phase when it would have been most effective at preventing more physical damage.

Society:

• Most COVID vaccine injured are still looked at by society with suspicion of fraud, oftentimes from our own families and friends.

Government:

• The COVID vaccine is still under the PREP Act giving manufacturers, distributors and administrators of the vaccine full immunity from liability. This is in place until December 31, 2029. If it is so safe and effective why aren’t these agencies responsible for safe manufacturing, distribution and administration when they are reaping financial benefits?

• The COVID vaccines are still such a political hot topic that divide the parties. The government is so focused on pointing the finger at the other party rather than finding the facts around those who suffered reactions, that we are not making much progress with acknowledgement.

I believe we can do better. I believe healing, research, support, and accountability are all possible.

But it won’t start in a courtroom or a headline. It starts with people—choosing to listen instead of dismiss, to question instead of assume, to care instead of turn away.

Five years later, I’m still here. Still fighting. Still hoping.

And I still believe that if we can find our common ground as humans, we can build something better—for all of us.

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about politics or policy. It’s about people. It’s about Team Humanity.

Photo: Minnesota Team Humanity participating in the YWCA Women’s Triathlon that I used to participate in for those who have suffered from COVID vaccine injuries.

Photo: November 2021 in Washington DC. Photo credit goes to Louie Traub (I think :))

After suffering from a severe reaction to the COVID vaccine almost 5 years ago now, I have noticed something that is universal among my new friends who also had reactions: we don’t want it to be for nothing.

I just finished watching the Oscar Short Film winner All the Empty Rooms on Netflix. Steve Hartman asks the family “So there’s got to be something, some benefit you see for you or your family?...In these pictures?” The father replies, “I think about it more as “How could her life [their daughter who was killed in a school shooting] benefit other people now.”

This man suffers a loss that no one expects to ever have to endure, the loss of a child. And, he is focused on how his loss can benefit other people. Not on how the documentary might help him with his own pain.

I can relate. I look better on the outside, but still struggle physically with a lot of issues. It’s a roller coaster ride that doesn’t end. Sometimes I am up and things are ok, but I know I will go down…it is just a matter of time. I try to enjoy the ups and not anticipate the downs. I try to be the only place that is certain…this moment.

I don’t talk about my continued struggles because I want sympathy. I talk about them because I don’t want others like me to suffer alone, and because anyone who has a reaction deserves a better path to treatment, support, accountability, and a safety net.

The pain is intense, the roller coaster doesn’t pause on the uphill, and I don’t want others to end up here—especially when we still aren’t doing enough research into COVID vaccine reactions.

What if it doesn’t get better? What if I, and all of the other COVID vaccine injured, suffer for nothing?

People don’t like to hear about the messy parts of anything painful. It gets a 2 minute news clip and then onto sports or weather. We expect those who are grieving to move on in a linear fashion after a certain amount of time has passed.

That’s not how suffering and grief works and that certainly hasn’t been my experience for the last 5 years. I am still concerned that there aren’t enough studies about adverse reactions to the COVID vaccine, there is no real safety net or recourse and, what breaks my heart the most, is that I know there are people out there suffering alone that think they are the only ones.

Humans who have suffered great losses in their lifetimes don’t just want to tell their story and be heard, they want all of the lessons learned from their experience to improve the outcomes of others who may suffer similar, but hopefully lesser losses.

When you wonder why I can’t stop talking about my life changing reaction to the COVID vaccine, it’s not only because I have lost physicality I will likely never get back, still suffer from flare ups that remind me of the worst of times of my life right after my reaction or worry about what new complication is waiting around the corner for me.

It is that I don’t want you, your children, your grandma, your sister, your uncle or your friend to have the same horrible, life altering experience that I did.

If it happens to you, I want you to have governmental and societal support.

If it happens to you, I want you to be recognized by all of your doctors.

If it happens to you, I want insurance to approve your treatment right out of the gate.

Suffering is included in the cost of living no matter where you are born, your gender, your age, your race, your religion. No one goes to their deathbed without some amount of suffering. When we suffer, we learn so much.

When we feel supported we want to share our learnings to ease the path for others who suffer like us.

I will keep talking about this because I need it to mean something. I need to believe that what I’m still living through can lead to something better than this for all of humanity. Because. We are one. We are Team Humanity.

After suffering from a severe reaction to my second COVID vaccine in 2021, my whole body became overly sensitive to everything from sounds, food, lights, and medications to weather, movement, and smells.

What took me much longer to realize was how intensely the emotional state that I unconsciously absorbed from people and the environment around me, was also impacting my body and my ability to heal.

I didn’t realize how much discomfort, fear, anxiety, anger, and sadness I was letting rub off on me.

I also didn’t realize I could have control over how much of that contagious emotional energy I let in.

I am guilty of thinking, “I was fine until…that person cut me off…my son or daughter came home grumpy…that cashier was rude to me”

I am guilty of blaming those around me for “making me” angry. I am not saying I live my life like a robot. Rather, I am aware of what emotional energy I let penetrate my own peace. My ability to physically function depends on it now that my body is so reactive.

It takes a pause. I talk about the pause a lot because…

THE. PAUSE. IS. POWERFUL.

I learned to “sit in the question and pause” from my wise, dear neighbor. It is incredibly powerful. It is as powerful to avoid catching contagious chaotic negative energy as pausing to wash my hands is in order to avoid catching a cold.

Scenario One - Based on a True Story Without the Pause

Someone cuts me off on the freeway and gives me the middle finger. I react immediately. First, to save myself from an accident. After that threat is gone, I react in anger matching the energy of the person driving the car that cut me off. I speed up and ride their bumper. I glare at them with a look of hate. Finally, we go separate ways.

I can’t stop thinking about how that person did me wrong. My whole body is full of hot rage. Later that day, I tell my husband and everyone else who will listen about the experience. I literally caught the contagious angry energy. It grew into a full on emotional takeover that I couldn’t shake for the entire day.

Scenario Two - Based on a True Story With the Pause

Someone cuts me off on the freeway and gives me the middle finger. I react immediately. First, to save myself from an accident. After that threat is gone, I take a deep breath with a long slow exhale. I notice that my hands are tingling and my face feels hot. I notice that I am safe. I notice that my favorite tunes are still playing on the radio.

I allow myself to be irritated for a moment. Pretending everything is fine when it is not doesn’t work well for the nervous system.

Then, I move towards curiosity. What is going on with that person today? Was the interaction really about me and my driving or about them? Was I trying my best while driving? Was I distracted and going too slow?

Then, when I am regulated enough, I wish the person a more peaceful day. And I move on with my day. I get the whole day back that was used up in anger and irritation.

Life IS short. I literally had my will in hand on the way to the hospital in 2021 after my severe reaction to the COVID vaccine. I felt like I looked death in the face and many days when the pain was so bad, I wished for it to come.

Now, why waste my time holding on to the anger that I contagiously caught from the person who cut me off? It’s not only my time, it’s my energy that I could use to live my best life. And, with my overly sensitive body, it’s my ability to function at all.

My body lights up like an air traffic controller dashboard warning of an imminent crash with sounds, food, lights, medications, weather, movement, smells, and YES, also to the energy of others. I know how the crash feels and I want to avoid it at all costs.

Foods, movements, and medications I can often avoid. But, unless I live alone in the woods, I will come into contact with the energy of others and chances are you will too.

Emotions are so contagious and we are all susceptible to them. Most of us are afraid of catching a virus, but we aren’t afraid of catching fear, a bad attitude, sadness, anger or envy. Yet we pick those up in seconds, much faster than the 3 day gestational period it takes for a physical virus to manifest as symptoms.

A Challenge for You: Implement the Pause for a Day

Try the Powerful Pause on for a day. Notice when you are picking up the energy of others. (It could even be from your algorithm based feed on your phone.) And if it isn’t joy, kindness, love and hope. Let it go. Try to be a witness to energy without absorbing it into your body. Sit in the question instead of jumping on the bandwagon of someone else’s bad day. Don’t give up because you aren’t perfect at it. Keep practicing. The more you practice the pause, the easier it will get.

You will find that you get so much time and energy back and you can choose to get swept up into energy that first serves you better. And then you will send that contagious good energy out to others creating a beautiful ripple effect.

In our world full of chaos that is highly contagious, choose calm. choose peace, choose kindness, choose love.

Emotions are contagious. We all catch them.

But we don’t have to keep them.

The question isn’t what energy is coming at you.

The question is:

Will you catch it?

Photo: Our vacation before the return to chaos.

I live in Saint Paul, Minnesota. I was away on vacation and returned to chaos a week ago both personally and in my community. It made me feel like I wanted to keep my bags packed and head straight back to the airport.

There is chaos in our state yet again. We live less than a mile away from the detention center. Helicopters are flying over our house right now and a few nights ago flash bangs were so loud that they were shaking our windows.

The more able bodied version of me, prior to my severe reaction to the COVID vaccine almost 5 years ago, would have wanted to get involved in a more active, yet peaceful way. I am not well enough to do that now. God and the universe also sent me a slew of other personal chaos to deal with, forcing me to pause to put out my own personal fires.

The Personal Chaos

1. The Furnace. As we were headed to the airport to return back to Minnesota, my son called and told me there was smoke coming out of the vents. Something was very wrong with the furnace. Based on what my calm and handy friend Mike heard about the situation, he diagnosed it from 1,800 miles away. When the technician came the next day, Mike was right. The blower motor had burnt out.

   

   Photo: The old, broken blower motor from our furnace. It could have started a fire.

2. The Car. Then the next morning as my husband drove my car to work, it started smoking from under the hood. My car is a 2013 with over 110K miles on it. One more potential big and expensive thing to handle.
   

3. The Hospital. Then the following day as my son was picking me up from the car repair station, my sister called me to tell me the ambulance had just left the house with mom. She was very sick again. Flashbacks to August hit me when she was hospitalized for almost two months from a different virus.

I have come a very, very long way through a ton of personal growth post severe reaction to the COVID vaccine that has allowed me to approach chaos completely differently. Here is what I would have done before and it would not have been pretty.

The Old Approach to Personal Chaos

1. The Furnace. Freak out about how much money it was going to cost to fix it and worry constantly about the pipes freezing. Get angry and more worried that it was going to take from Thursday to Tuesday with no furnace. Obsess for months about whether we made the right decision to repair or replace the furnace.

2. The Car. Freak out about how much money it was going to cost to fix it and worry (see the pattern here) that it was going to explode before we could get it serviced. Get angry (another pattern) that more bad things were happening “to me”.
   

3. The Hospital. Race as quickly as I could to the hospital and stay there all night if I had to without stopping to eat or even use a bathroom.

The pain and suffering from my severe reaction to the COVID vaccine, has forced me into a long term pause that is full of lessons when chaos hits. Here is how I am handling the personal chaos this time. It absolutely requires a pause.

The New Approach to Chaos

1. The Furnace. Be grateful that no fire was started, my son was safe, a potential repair could be made instead of a replacement and my sweet neighbor had space heaters to lend to us. Be grateful that I had money in the bank to pay the bill.
   

2. The Car. Be grateful (see the new pattern) that it was not the radiator, it was the windshield wiper hose spilling fluid onto the radiator causing the smoke. Be grateful that I had money in the bank to pay the bill.
   

3. The Hospital. Be grateful that my mom didn’t lose her voice this time and was much stronger than the August hospital stay. I stopped to use the bathroom before racing off to the hospital. I left my mom in her ER room for 15 minutes to buy food and eat it in the hospital cafeteria and went home at 9pm to sleep in my own bed once I had talked to the doctors, knew the plan and could tell my mom was stable.

   

Photo: My mom is doing much better at a transitional care unit.

The Old Approach to Chaos = Fear + Anxiety + Panic + Worry + Frantic Energy + Obsession + Control

The New Approach to Chaos is not without some or all of the above AND = Slowing Down to Witness the Feelings + Self Compassion + Self Support + Gratitude + Peace

When I slow down enough I can get back to knowing what I need to regulate my own self.

First, I ask myself about the basics because I cannot support, help others or even help myself if the basics aren’t covered.

The Basics = Sleep + Hydration + Food

When the world feels like too much and you think you just can’t take it anymore. You HAVE to HAVE to HAVE to get back to the basics. Sleep is my number one every time. Losing sleep is the fastest way to lose your mind and mental health.

The Witnessing = Noticing how my emotions and surroundings are impacting me

Who and what am I interacting with? Is it adding to or lessening my fear, anxiety and stress? Should I stop scrolling? What is my brain focused on?

The Honoring = Allow myself space to feel and accept those feelings. Share my feelings with my husband, family or trusted friend.

I refrain from judging myself harshly for being overwhelmed. Talking about my frustrations can be a helpful release when I choose the right people.

The Gratitude = Find things I can be grateful for. Gratitude is the anecdote to depression. It makes not sweating the stuff that seems to be big, actually smaller.

Although a furnace going out in January in Minnesota feels big, it is not life threatening. That shift towards gratitude gets your catastrophe brain unstuck.

The Peace = Meditation, softening my body, my words, my interactions with myself and others helps peace to settle in.

So often I will notice tension in my jaw, eyes, shoulders and stomach. Softening my body signals to my brain that I am safe. I have also started following The Walk for Peace. I recommend it if you want

The energy that I project out into the world is contagious. If I had used the old approach to chaos for the furnace, car and hospital maybe, (we will never know), everything would have worked out the same way it did.

But, I would have spent a whole lot of unnecessary energy which would have rippled out to the furnace and car diagnostic and repairmen, my sick mom and those helping her in the hospital, and directly to my family.

That is true for anyone. On the plane ride home from our vacation there were two babies near us. On the 4 hour flight there were times when both were calm and times when both were screaming at the top of their lungs. One would start screaming and within 20 seconds the other one would start. They were emotionally in sync.

Day cares see it all the time. The streets of Minnesota are seeing it now as well. Emotions are contagious be it calm or chaos. It starts inside you. Be the peace that you want to see in the world.

If you need a break from doom and gloom and if this hasn’t yet reached your algorithm feeds, check out the Walk for Peace. It’s beautiful. Their message is one of Team Humanity. Love wins.

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Photo: Day 3. It was the absolute worst. Pain meds were not enough.

“Day three is the absolute worst. It is horrible. Trust me, it will get better.”

These words are from my friend Laura regarding the colon resection surgery I just went through that she went through 2 years earlier.

I trust her with my life. I trust her more than I trust any doctor. Why?

Because she also suffered a severe reaction to the COVID vaccine one month before I did. And unfortunately for her, but fortunately for me, she has been a trailblazer in some of the worst and most painful experiences I have had in the last 4.5 years.

She has been there and done that. She prepares me for what to expect when things are so tough I am not sure I can handle it anymore.

It is almost insane how similar our experiences have been following our reactions. For a while I wondered if we, two strangers who connected after she saw my story online, were related somehow.

Could we be long lost cousins? She is tall, thin, athletic, accomplished, kind hearted, and loves to travel. Read more about her and her initial COVID vaccine reaction here:

We haven’t found that we have a genetic connection, but we most certainly have a soul connection. We, along with so many other members of Team Humanity, have become each other’s life lines and extended family.

We know that we can turn to each other in the worst of times and be understood, be raw, be authentic, be mad, be sad, and we won’t be judged for it. We find support, advice, love and a shoulder to cry on.

Besides the same burning, throbbing, numbness, pain, fatigue, gastrointestinal and heart issues immediately following our COVID vaccines, when other things went wrong and trips to the emergency room were needed, the scenario was eerily almost the same for both of us.

In December 2023, I ended up in the ER after a lumbar puncture leak. I had NEVER, EVER in my life felt pain as crushing as the pain and pressure I had in my head. When standing I felt like my brain was in a vice and surely I was going to die. The pain would go away when I lied down.

Photo: Dec 2023 ER visit for the Lumbar Puncture leak before the blood patch that I knew I needed thanks to Laura.

Laura, had this same thing happen a year earlier. Unfortunately, she was advised by her medical institution that she was ok to fly following the lumbar puncture procedure. That ended up being a mistake because she got off the plane in Turks and Caicos and went straight to the hospital.

She had to be airlifted back to Jacksonville, Florida to get treated there. To get there she ended up flying on the medical evacuation plane through a major storm. Not only was her vacation ruined, her love of travel was now scarred with a very traumatic plane ride.

She eventually made it back home and had no more complications from the lumbar leak.

When the same thing happened to me a year later in December with a family trip to Florida on the horizon she was able to talk me through the whole thing. She knew exactly what was up and what I needed to do. She had warned me to leave enough time between the procedure and the flight in case I had a leak.

She assured me I wasn’t going to die even though it felt like it. She told me I had to go to the hospital to get a blood patch. She explained how that process would work. Then when the patch was in place and I was feeling better she assured me it was still ok to go on the trip, but that I needed to avoid lifting anything or stretching and bending a lot.

I was able to enjoy my vacation when she was not. She took all that she learned from one of the worst experiences of her life and shared with me how to cope through it.

Photo: I couldn’t go in the water, but I was able to enjoy my vacation thanks to my friend Laura coaching me.

Then, in August of this year, while I was on vacation I ended up with a colon perforation.

My sweet friend Laura had experienced this exact same thing while on a Thanksgiving trip out of state in 2022.

My strong friend Laura also had a colon resection a few months later.

My resilient friend Laura talked me through it all every painful step of the way.

She was my 24/7 hour hotline for all of the scary new feelings I was having. So when she said “Trust me, it will get better,” I knew she was right and I just had to hang on. I hung on tight to the lifeline Laura was holding for me.

Day three in the hospital was the worst. To quote a dear friend, I was in so much pain I wanted to “bite the walls.” Laura gave me hope that it would be the worst day and she was right.

I wish Laura had had a Laura during her medical emergencies. I wish I could somehow put into more meaningful and powerful words to explain just how crucial and comforting she has been for me during my experience with these same medical emergencies.

Photo: Laura and me. I hope you find a friend as amazing as Laura without having a health crisis.

If each person showed up for someone else suffering a similar experience in the way Laura has shown up for me, the world would only be full of love, reliance, kindness, comfort and support. May you always have a Laura in your life and my lifesaving friend Laura get a break from leading the way through medical emergencies.

Photo: My daughter’s play seven years ago. The Lion King.

“We all just want to feel ‘normal’ again. I do have to stop comparing myself to the ‘old’ me and others. Perhaps you can write a blog post on that!”

Here is that blog post, inspired by you, Donna. Thank you.

Seven years ago my daughter tried out for a play. She got a part in the chorus and one of her good friends got a bigger speaking part. I asked her if she was sad that she didn’t get a bigger part like her friend.

She was only 10 years old at the time and her reply shocked me with the wisdom of an 80 year old. She said, “If I compare myself to others all the time, I will never be happy.”

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I thought I was trying to make space for her to grieve not getting a bigger part, but she and her wise self didn’t need that space. I was impressed. Now, on my worst days, I try to remind myself of that moment when such wise words came out of such a young person.

It is human nature to compare ourselves to others. Marketers build million dollar ads around us “keeping up with the Jones’s”.

Photo: Feb 2018 renting a fancy car.

After my own severe reaction to the COVID vaccine, when I found myself in a body full of pain and a brain that felt scrambled, I couldn’t help but look up from the seat of my wheelchair with a longing to be just like all of the able bodied people I saw around me. Just like my “old” self.

It felt impossible to NOT compare myself to other people my age taking their own two legs for granted. It also felt impossible to not compare my new limitations to how I functioned before.

I traded the wheels of my road bike for the wheels of my grandpa’s old walker. Not something I was expecting to do at 49 years old. And I wondered with worry, anger and saddness, “Is this my new life?”

Photo: June 10, 2018 on the MS150 bike ride.

Comparing what I was able to do just days before my second shot to this new lot in life was heartbreaking. It made me panicky. I wanted my vitality back and I was scared that this was my new lifelong reality.

The “old” me could bike 150 miles in two days. The “old” me could volunteer to run the Halloween school fundraiser, lead Girl Scout troop and work a full time job.

The “new” me couldn’t even make it 20 yards from the couch to the kitchen. The “new” me broke out in hives from some unknown threat. The “new” me couldn’t remember I had asked the same question to my kids just 3 minutes ago.

It was scary. It was uncomfortable. It was depressing.

After four and a half years, sometimes it is helpful to look back to the worst of the early days and see that I have made many strides. But, if I look back farther to before my shot, it gets depressing. I am not anywhere near where I used to be and I still wonder if I ever will be.

I used to think there would be some magic date when all of my cells would have regenerated and I would be healed, back to my original self. I haven’t given up hope for improvement, but I find that “back to perfect health” goal is not helpful. It keeps me from being grateful for what I do have.

Photo: Just a few of the many supplements I have tried to find the magic pill to cure me.

If I am so worried about being able to bike 75 miles in a day, I might forget to look up and enjoy the sunshine beaming through the autumn colored trees.

If I am so worried that I am in another chronic fatigue flare up, I might forget to enjoy the cozy blanket and a warm cup of matcha.

I am not suggesting to live without hope and goals for the future. I am recommending what has worked better for me. And that is reengaging with joy, living in the present, supporting my body when it demands that I slow down.

Photo: Me resting and receiving pet therapy at my friend Shaun’s house.

This experience has forever changed me and in so many ways it is for the better.

I may have lost a lot from a physical standpoint, but I have gained so much from a spiritual standpoint. I am more grounded. I am more supportive of my body, mind and soul. I look inward for peace rather than outside myself.

I have replaced consumerism with a mindset of abundance. I have replaced thinking there is some magic supplement to cure me, with my own inner knowing of what and who are supportive to my health.

When I see someone else “winning” at life now, I feel happy for them and I hope they can feel that luxury of good health and wellness. I want us all to win.

Photo: Team Humanity “winning” together as we support each other as humans despite our differences.

When I think back to the “old” me, I realize I was moving way too fast to enjoy the little things. I was so focused on goals. I took my health for granted.

“New” me may move slower, have less new things, bike on an ebike much shorter distances, and have many days when I don’t accomplish any goal besides supporting my body’s needs.

The “old” me used to chase goals. The “new” me chases peace.

I wish you and your loved ones a life filled with gratitude, abundance, peace and joy. And when your body demands that you slow down, be grateful for the message and honor your body and yourself in the way that you learned to support you.

My daughter once told me, “If I compared myself to others all the time, I would never be happy.” It took me years, and a lot of struggle, to embrace that for myself.

Healing isn’t about becoming who we used to be. It’s about learning to love who we are now — right here, as we are.

Photo: How I spend some part of every night now. “Old” me would need to move. “New” me settles in.

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Photo: Me before the surgery. It was easier to smile.

It has been three weeks and one day since I had my colon resected. I had 10 inches of my sigmoid colon removed. They were able to reconnect the healthy parts of my colon back together during that same very long surgery when they removed the unhealthy part.

I am one of the lucky ones. Six weeks before, I was in an emergency room in Florida and my infected colon was starting to perforate. They talked about surgery, but said it would be best to wait 6 weeks for the hole to heal and try to do the surgery as an elective surgery or I would end up with a colostomy bag.

During one bad flare up during those 6 weeks while I was waiting, I worried that I needed to go back to the ER to start the emergency process. Thankfully, I made it to my surgery date.

We got to the hospital at 5:30am and I was wheeled into the operating room at 7:30am. The last thing I remember was seeing the COVID vaccine listed as an allergy for me on the board with my name and my surgery.

This gave me a sense of peace that no pharmaceutical drug could ever provide. The last 4.5 years have been full of more surgeries, emergency rooms, doctors’ offices, and medical testing than the rest of my life combined. My reaction to the COVID vaccine was an uncomfortable truth that was not discussed much nor written with the clarity I saw on that operating room board.

That day was the first day someone added the COVID vaccine as an allergy to the front page of my medical records, not buried in the notes. My primary care had filled out the Pfizer paperwork stating my reaction was a result of the vaccine two months after my reaction, but this felt different.

Seeing it clearly written allowed me to exhale as I was about to go under both anesthesia and the knife.

I finally woke up at 4pm or at least that is when I remember finally being awake. The surgery was over at 1pm. I spent 3 hours in recovery. I don’t remember any of that time.

I do remember my hospital stay and the first week and a half at home after that.

It. Was. Rough.

Photo: This was a rough time.

A dear friend who also suffers from a severe reaction to the COVID vaccine had this same surgery a few years before me. She was able to help me through when I felt like the pain was unbearable and I wasn’t going to make it. Her help was a lifeline that I needed.

I noticed that there is a clarity when pain is extremely intense and a person is in a fragile state. Some of that clarity is foggy as I was coming out of being under for so long and because of intensive narcotics.

But, despite the fog, what was clear was that I was in survival mode. Not much was being expected or asked of me. I had help from my husband, my daughter, doctors, nurses, physical and occupational therapists. I just had to make it to the next minute.

Tensing up through the pain made things worse. I focused hard on softening my body, accepting rather than resisting the pain, and asking for ice packs and pain medication.

I have always been more comfortable helping others versus asking for help. But, I knew my survival literally depended on the support and kindness of others when I couldn’t move and I was in so much surgical pain.

I got back to the very basic necessities of life. I was focused on sleeping, drinking water, eating no more than a deck of cards at a time, small walks in the hallway and using the bathroom. All of these things I had to do with effort now.

Photo: I slept a lot with heating pads on my collar bone and ice packs on my abdomen.

I spent three nights in the hospital and was allowed to return home on the fourth day. My focus on basic needs continued when I got home. I was no longer able to push the call button and ask for medications, but I had them by my side and now had some independence.

I had an ice pack with me at all times. I had so much pain on my right side where they had to cut through abdominal muscle. Breathing and sitting up were excruciatingly painful unless I was very drugged up. Laughing was also painful. When I sneezed the first time post surgery, I almost hit the ceiling in pain.

Using the bathroom was painful. I can still feel everything moving through the newly connected pipes and it is scary. They had to cut through the nerves to reconnect everything so my body is trying to create new neurological pathways.

In those foggy moments and still today as I continue to heal the following truths are grounding:

1. When times are tough, focus on the basics like water, sleep, food and movement.

2. It is not only ok, but essential to ask for help. Let that love and help in as freely as I want to give that help to others when I am able.

3. Life is short. Make sure to let the little annoyances go as quickly as possible.

4. Distractions are incredible for pain relief.

5. Laughter is good medicine even when it’s hard after you have had abdominal surgery.

6. Our bodies are built to heal and will heal faster when we support them physically, mentally, and spiritually.

7. No one can go it alone. We need each other to heal.

We cannot heal alone. We need each other to survive.

That’s what Team Humanity is. It’s the people who sit with us in the pain—not because they can take it away, but because they know that being seen and supported matters. It’s the meals, the messages, the quiet presence. It’s my friend who had walked this same path and reminded me I’d get through it too.

It’s easy to feel alone when your body is broken and the world doesn’t fully understand your experience. But the truth is—there are more of us out here than we think. People who have lived through medical struggles, who’ve faced the unexpected, who know what it’s like to feel invisible and still keep going.

If you know someone suffering after a reaction to the COVID vaccine, please share my name. No one should have to walk that path alone. I didn’t—and that made all the difference.

I’m not all the way through this yet, but when I am, I’ll be back to cooking meals, making calls, and showing up—because that’s how we heal. That’s how we remind each other we’re not alone.

We survive by leaning in. We heal by showing up. That’s Team Humanity—and I am on that team for life.

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It’s a crap show. Literally. And now my actual colon is involved.

I am in a poop storm and it is extremely hard for me to admit how much I am struggling. I want to be the glass half full person. I want to be the person that lifts everyone up.

I am not sure where this rant is going to go, but it may not be positive. I just need to vent. So, if you are used to and looking for an upbeat message and my sunny disposition, you might want to stop reading now.

I am weary. I am sad. I am angry.

It has been almost 4.5 years since I took the shot that changed my life and I am still struggling. I want to move past it. I want to have linear healing. I want to move back to a more predictable and less painful life.

And my body is still saying no.

I want to be grateful for what is going right with my health, but new things keep popping up along with the old things that still aren’t right.

It is all too much. I need a break.

But my break is going to be back in the hospital for 3 to 5 days for yet another surgery. A surgery for another condition people are uncomfortable talking about. My colon.

I am having a colon resection this Friday. So that means I need to talk about my poop. Thus the literal crap show.

It all started when we were trying to celebrate my husband’s 50th birthday with a family trip to Florida and I had stomach pains so severe I had to go to the ER.

When the doctor came in to tell me the results of the CT scan she said, “Your vacation stops here.” My colon had started to tear. I was admitted into the hospital.

Here comes some gratitude. It only started to tear a little, thank God. So they weren’t going to do an emergency surgery on me.

In the Florida hospital, they gave me IV antibiotics, pain killers and a liquid diet. I needed to wait 6 weeks for my colon to calm down and then have surgery.

That takes me to this Friday when I am having the surgery.

What happened in the last six weeks while waiting has also been difficult. My mom got very sick with a virus that landed her in the hospital and now in a transitional care unit. She is still not back home yet.

I had to rehome my dog because not only can I not care for him during the recovery from my colon resection, I couldn’t even be around him or let him sit where he always sits, right on my lap.

This crushed my soul, broke my heart and filled me with shame. My pets have always been a “til death do we part” for me. And now I had to admit that I am unable to care for Louie and have been holding this rambunctious little being back from his best life with my own health struggles.

Here comes some more gratitude. My husband connected with the most perfect family for Louie. Louie’s new mom came with her brother, young nephews, sister in law and her mom, all ready to meet Louie and welcome him into their family.

My broken heart is healing knowing that he will have a better, more active life. The life he deserves with the new family.

But, how much more do I have to give up? My energy, time and money have been spent on my health for nearly 5 years.

I hate to ask for help. I like to be the helper. But, I am out of gas.

I have a ton of tools I can access, but I am struggling to pick them up. I am not comfortable taking up a ton of space with my complaints.

I am confident in my surgeon’s ability to help me and like the father of a dear friend who has gone through this before me told me, “There is a medical fix for this. Go through the gates and get the medical fix. You will feel better.” I intend to do just that.

I really hope this is it for a while. I have to just take one day at a time. One hour at a time and continue to ask friends, family, God and the universe for help to get me through these tough times.

It seems like I have been called to talk about the stuff no one talks about. First it was and still is COVID vaccine adverse reactions and now it’s my colon.

I want to normalize not being ok. I want to normalize talking about uncomfortable literal crap. I want to normalize not being ashamed when we don’t have the reserves to take care of ourselves and need to ask for help..

Community is the medicine that is stripped away from me when I go into a place of shame when I have to rehome our dog and my literal poop isn’t right. I isolate myself when I am trying to survive.

I am now trying to crawl out of isolation. I am trying to take my own words of medicine and admit temporary defeat.

It’s ok to not be ok. May you find your people to not be ok with. May you realize that we are all connected and in our worst times we should not try to go it alone. #TeamHumanity

4 years ago I met Lorri.

She was a complete stranger to me. She somehow saw my censored story online and connected with me in compassion and love.

No agenda, just one stranger showing up for another stranger. One stranger who witnessed the loneliness and pain I was in, suffering from a severe reaction after my second Pfizer vaccine in April 2021 that left me needing a wheelchair or walker to go more than one block.

Instead of turning away from my uncomfortable truth she dove right in, literally.

She dove right into Lake Nokomis on my behalf in August that same year. She swam, biked and ran for me.

The YWCA Women’s Triathlon in Minneapolis, Minnesota, was a race I had done the previous 10 years. I absolutely loved both the supportive vibe of the race and the way I felt pushing my body to the finish line.

In 2021, the complications I suffered forced me to the sidelines. But, instead of missing one of my favorite events of the year, my amazing husband wheeled me from transition point to transition point to cheer my new friend on.

As she rounded the bend for the final stretch of the race, my husband pushed my wheelchair out to meet her. We crossed together hand in hand. She had never completed a triathlon before that day.

She is now a seasoned veteran. She completed her 4th triathlon for me this year along with many other racers who have joined in compassion and love. Each year the number of racers and the supporters gets bigger and bigger. As the world moves on from the pandemic and the division around the COVID vaccine, the bodies of those of us who suffered reactions haven’t moved on.

We are reminded daily by our pain, debilitating fatigue, pounding hearts, burning nerve pain, screaming ear ringing, and sudden new rashes. We have learned to normalize these symptoms so that we can try to enjoy some parts of our lives in between flare ups and functional and western medical appointments.

But, once a year in early August, for the past 4 years, my heart swells with love and appreciation as our community shows up in purple. Not for the Vikings or for Prince, but for Humanity in the overlap between red and blue politics. We put our differences aside and show up as caring humans.

This year was incredible. We had new racers and a mother daughter team. And there was purple everywhere!!! Jolene, who has managed the event for years, has incredible signs and her daughter in a purple tutu!

The signs are full of love, acknowledgment and support. We aren’t pointing fingers at one another. We are united in support for those who are struggling.

My friend Shaun said to me years ago, “no one is running races for us” like they are for cancer, diabetes, and Alzheimer's. After 4 years of the Team continuing to show up I can say that they are running a race for us once a year in Minnesota!!!

Those of us still struggling really want to move on. I can tell you I have been long ready to move on and back to normality. I try and my body tells me no. This year was no different.

I ended up in the hospital while on a family vacation two weeks before the triathlon. The barrage of complications that keep popping up just when I think I have taken a consistent and sustainable turn for the better have worn me down.

It is frustrating beyond belief to be stuck in the medical system needing more help. Spending my time, money and energy dealing with another big thing. I am weary.

My friend Lorri knows it and she keeps showing up. She shows up with bone broth at my door. She sends me texts to check in.

Jolene keeps showing up. She recruits new racers for the 2026 race.

This is how I hold onto hope and this is how I heal. We heal when we feel seen and heard. We heal in community. I cannot heal alone. And without Team Humanity I would have given up hope long ago.

Thank you, Lorri, thank you, Jolene and thank you to each of the other racers: Helen, Audrey. Jodie, Pilar, Cindy, Chris, Janna, Kelly, Katie, Jill, Jessica, my own daughter, Allie and TONS of supporters. Thank you for holding me, and all of those of us still struggling with health issues post reaction to the COVID vaccine, in love, light and humanity.

I hope each one of you reading this can pause amongst the chaos of the day and the division and hate in our social media feeds and on the news.

Pause and consider that we are more alike than different. That we are all carrying a heavy load even if that load is invisible. That we can and should show up for one another when our loads are lighter.

Photo: Me and my kids “doing” the Color Run on a busy weekend in 2016

It is summer time in Minnesota and that means go time for most of us. We try to pack 12 months of living into June, July and August when the kids are off from school and the weather is beautiful.

I used to be able to do the same thing summer after summer and year after year. I would work a full time, demanding job in Corporate America, pick my kids up from day care or the after school program, make dinner, head out on a bike ride or to a summer festival, go to bed late and do it all again the next day.

Let’s not even talk about the weekend jam packed with sports events and weekend races like the MS150 bike ride from Duluth to Minneapolis, YWCA Triathlon, or the Tough Mudder 5K run through mud and other obstacles.

Photo: My family and I after “doing” a race through the mud the summer of 2018.

I loved being this active and I took my body and my health for granted.

That all came to a screeching halt on April 13, 2021 when I took my second Pfizer COVID vaccine. I hadn’t had any issues with the first shot and I willingly took the second.

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I felt like I had been hit by a Mac truck or that my body had aged 40 years overnight. I developed Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia, which is an extremely high heart rate upon sitting up or even worse when standing up. The burning pain in my right leg was diagnosed as Small Fiber Neuropathy 10 months later.

And worst of all…The. Fatigue. Was. Crushing.

I could handle the burning and odd heart rhythms, but not being able to even walk from the couch to the kitchen 30 feet away without taking a break scared me. I wondered, was this it? Was this my new life?

All or nothing thinking was a big part of my life. I was valedictorian of my high school. I wanted all A’s on my report card. When I signed up for anything I was all in. I was very busy being a human “doing” instead of a human “being.” I was very focused on what I thought the outside world wanted from me.

When my body stopped working after my shot, I couldn’t be the human “doing.” And, there were so many days with pain so intense and fatigue so deep that I didn’t even want to be a human “being” anymore.

Our culture celebrates the human doing. We wear our “I’m so busy” badges of honor with purpose and pride. We feel we can rest only after we have been productive. We look at those who do stop to smell the roses with a curled upper lip wondering why they don’t have more important things to accomplish.

When my body shut down, after the shot, I could only be. I began to realize that the hustle culture I subscribed to was keeping my nervous system in fight or flight 100% of the time. If I was going to heal to the point of being able to walk more than 1 block, I was going to need to pay attention to this new switch turned on in my body or immune system.

A friend of mine who had suffered from reactivated Epstein Barr recommended Insight Timer, a meditation app, to me. It became something I could do.

I went to vestibular physical therapy and got my exercises to do at home.

Building Team Humanity to support others who also suffered severe reactions was something I could do.

But I took the “doing” of meditation, physical therapy and Team Humanity too far. I was still stuck in trying hard and “doing” more mode.

Bit by bit, I realized I felt better when I focused on being instead of doing. I might actually be doing something, like writing this blog, but when I am fully present in the doing my nervous system isn’t on overdrive.

I remember a conversation with my dad one warm summer day thirty years ago. He told me that he wished I could just “be.” He passed away twenty years ago and I can say that I am finally learning how to just be a human “being.”

Maybe you’ve felt it too — the pressure to always produce, to measure your worth by how much you accomplish in a day. I used to thrive on that kind of productivity. But the vaccine reaction shattered that identity overnight.

It didn’t just injure my body — it stripped away everything I thought made me “me.” I couldn’t even walk across the room without needing to rest. And worse than the physical pain was the loneliness — the isolation of being disbelieved or dismissed.

But somewhere in that deep unraveling, I began to hear a quieter voice. A voice that wasn’t asking me to do anything, but inviting me to simply be. To breathe. To exist. To honor the tiny steps, the imperceptible progress, the sacred stillness.

Healing hasn’t been linear. Some days I still grieve the life I had. But I’m no longer trying to force my way back. I’m allowing myself to move forward — not as a human doing, but as a human being. I’ve learned to listen to my body with more compassion, to be fully present in the moment, and to build Team Humanity as a place where others don’t have to suffer alone.

If you’re navigating life after a medical injury — if your world has cracked open in ways you didn’t choose — please know you’re not alone. There’s strength in softness. There’s power in stillness. There’s healing in being seen.

And there is hope — not in returning to who we were, but in becoming who we are meant to be now.

Let’s be human, together.

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Photo: Feb 8, 2020 - One year and two months before I aged overnight

It has been over four years since I suffered a severe reaction after my second COVID vaccine. I had no idea how dramatically my life would change overnight.

I worked full time as a Vice President at a Fortune 500 company. I was married to the love of my life with two kind teenagers still at home.

I loved participating in physically challenging events yearly including the:

• Fight for Air climb for the American Lung Association up 31 flights of stairs

• MS 150 bike ride 150 miles over two days for Multiple Sclerosis

• YWCA triathlon with a 500 yard swim, 15.5 mile bike followed by a 3.1 mile run

Needless to say, I was in the best shape of my life.

All of that changed overnight.

I was 49 when I enthusiastically went to the same pop up clinic to get my second Pfizer COVID vaccine. Forty hours later I woke up feeling like an unhealthy 90 year old.

I had a large swollen lump on my neck, a rash on my forehead, and my whole body ached as if I’d been hit by a Mack truck. It was as though I’d completed the Fight for Air climb, the MS 150 bike ride, and the YWCA triathlon—each three times in one day.

I had aching and pain so deep in my body and spine that I felt like I was dying. I would never wish this kind of intense pain on any other living thing. It was unbearable.

I understood why too many of the new friends I met, who experienced similar reactions to their COVID vaccines, chose to take their own lives. The pain is intense and doctors haven’t yet found many treatments that can relieve this type of pain.

With this overnight change in my physical well-being and abilities came a wealth of hard earned wisdom. My body aged overnight, but it took many months before the nuggets of wisdom came to me. They eventually came and for that I am grateful.

Before I could learn those lessons from my now 90 year old body, I had to learn to crawl again. I would crawl from the kitchen floor back to the sofa because my legs felt like lead and my heart would pound with intense tachycardia upon standing up. I had to crawl up the stairs to get to my bed.

Photo Credit: Anna Botz Photography

I was in survival mode. My spine and tailbone felt so swollen that I couldn’t sit up. When I did sit up my heart rate skyrocketed. Unfortunately my progression from crawling to walking wasn’t as linear as it is for a toddler. Flare ups (see Flare ups…the other F Word for more details) knocked me back down from standing to crawling.

I kept getting back up, but with the mindset of a 49 year old athletic, energetic person. I got back up with the “push through” and “try harder” attitude that I thought had served me well for 49 years.

But, I was wrong. That mindset kept me stuck. My 90 year old body and frayed nerves were not having it. Each time I focused on trying to go just a little bit farther by pushing through the exhaustion and pain I ended up in a horrible flare up that lasted for days.

I came across the work of Dr. Kim D’Eramo on a Facebook ad one day. She said I could get rid of my Chronic Fatigue in five days if I focused on noticing where my energy was going and made some shifts.

It sounded pretty out there to me, but it was something free I could try after spending thousands of dollars and hours trying everything else. What could it hurt? My ego maybe, but nothing else. It didn’t come with a list of terrible potential side effects like all the pharma treatments that had been prescribed.

That very day, I tried out her techniques when trying to go for a longer than one block walk without a wheelchair. I waited the next day for the flare up to kick in and it didn’t. I waited one more day and still, no flare up. Maybe this approach was the way to healing.

The shift was simply away from pushing through and trying hard to be more mindful of nature and beauty around me. My body needed to feel safe and not pushed. I didn’t realize that I was trying to bully my body back to health instead of self compassionately supporting it.

This was the first lesson my 90 year old body was longing for. I literally needed to stop and smell the roses. To stop and notice the beautiful blooms on the hibiscus tree and the hummingbird at the feeder. I needed to send a message from my mind and soul that my body was safe and things were good.

The second lesson was to trust my intuition. My yoga therapist friend Mandy (homeandyoga.com) had shared these words of wisdom with me within the first weeks of my reaction, but I had no idea what she meant when she said “go inward” until after I had learned the first lesson and allowed myself to slow down.

Going inward and trusting my intuition I realized that I did need the invasive surgery on my neck to resolve the compression of my internal jugular vein. I had that surgery in November 2024 and it has helped with dizziness, head pressure and blurry vision that I couldn’t resolve on my own.

The third lesson was that I can trust with certainty that everything will change. In the worst of the worst moments when chronic fatigue kicks in and the scary, deep nerve pain creeps back, I remind myself to be curious rather than panicky because I am certain it won’t stay that way forever. I look at the pain or fatigue and wonder what my body is telling me it needs. Should I take a break and lie down, should I go for a walk, should I ask for help?

The fourth lesson I learned from my 90 year old self was that it is ok and good to ask for help. I have always been so independent and I get joy from helping others. It is part of my identity to be giving. (Identity can be one of the ways you give your energy away per Dr. Kim D’Eramo).

Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of being human and our need for connected oneness. Why wouldn’t I offer the same kindness to myself that I want others to accept from me when I help them?

I know it feels good to help others. I need to let others experience that same good feeling by letting them help me. I need to let go of my ego and need for independence and allow their loving kindness in.

I wish I could have gotten there in a less painful, scary and difficult way. And, I am thankful to have learned the lessons of my 90 year old self long before reaching that biological age.

I can spend the rest of my days reaping the benefits of these four lessons:

1. Slow down, be mindful, and stop to smell the roses

2. Trust my intuition about what I need for me

3. Everything eventually changes, even intense physical and emotional pain

4. Ask for help by allowing others to do for me what I would readily do for them

I hope you can examine your own life and apply these lessons without having to go through a health crisis that accelerates your aging overnight. You can reverse time backwards when you begin supporting yourself by slowing down, trusting yourself, knowing that “this too shall pass” and allowing help in.

I wouldn’t wish my journey on anyone—but I know I’m not the only one who’s walked this path. If you’re here, if you’re hurting, if your life changed overnight and no one seems to understand—you’re not alone. There is wisdom in your body, even if it feels broken. There is healing in connection, even when you feel isolated.

These lessons from my 90-year-old self were hard-earned, but they’ve made me softer, more open, more human. And that’s what we need more of: not perfection, but compassion. Not pushing through, but reaching out. We heal faster—and more deeply—when we do it together. That’s the heart of Team Humanity. Let’s keep choosing each other.

On Saturday I went with my sister and my mom to the vet to put her 23 year old cat, named Doodie, and 17 year old dog, named Wingy, to sleep. My sister has been taking in elderly dogs and cats for years. She cares for them beyond their golden years.

This was not her first experience with losing an animal, nor will it be her last.

It was hard. My sister was a vet technician for years. We went to the clinic she worked at 20 years ago. The vet who did the procedure had worked with my sister. She was kind, compassionate, and gentle throughout the whole experience.

The room had soft lighting, comfortable couches and lots of treats to give my sister’s fur babies. We were not rushed in any way. We were given a bell to ring when we were alone in the room with the animals in case we needed anything at all.

My sister held and comforted her animals during their procedures. The vet got on the ground to administer the medicine. I didn’t see either animal flinch. They winced in more pain on a daily basis trying to move around than they did at the clinic. There was an air of loving peace in the room.

My sister handled the whole thing with a calmness and grace that absolutely helped put her animals at ease. I felt tears rising to my eyes so many times, but I told myself that I didn’t have the “right” to cry if my sister and mom weren’t crying.

As I reflect on this self proclaimed denial of my right to cry, I realize it was a lie. Every single one of us is allowed our feelings at any given moment. I know that my sister had made peace with the decision that this was the right time and the most humane thing she could do for her animals.

I one hundred percent believe the same, but it was hitting me hard and I was holding it back. I had a cry in the car on the way home and when I got home.

Allowing ourselves to take both the time and the space we need when things are hard is the best gift we can give ourselves and the world. Having that awareness when feelings are welling up and then pausing long enough to notice the stories we are telling ourselves about those feelings is the path to self compassion and ultimately to peace.

A peace like we felt in that room when the vet listened to each of the hearts of Doodie and Wingy and gently said, “He has passed on.”

When we deny ourselves the feelings of any sort those same unprocessed feelings get stuck with us longer. They may come on in the form of an upset stomach, a rash, exhaustion, joint pain, headaches and dizziness.

In fact, the NIH has a published study that concludes that “Emotion suppression may convey risk for earlier death, including death from cancer.” We so readily do so many difficult and often expensive things to avoid death and cancer. Why not simply allow ourselves to feel our feelings, if this self compassion can actually help us live longer?

If you have read any other posts I have made you know that I started Team Humanity to focus on showing compassion and support to those who suffered adverse reactions to the COVID vaccine. Team Humanity is a call to find our connected oneness. It is a call to comfort those who are suffering.

We need to start with our own suffering.

We need to start with self compassion.

We need to start with our own hearts.

I now believe that it is easier to show compassion to others when you make it a practice to show that same compassion to yourself. And that starts with allowing yourself to let your feelings flow.

I have cried my tears for my sister’s sweet animals. I hope that you give yourself the same grace.

Feel what you feel. Let it move through you.

Your peace depends on it.
Your health depends on it.
Your humanity depends on it.

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One of the most difficult things I had to deal with after suffering from a severe COVID vaccine reaction in April 2021 was the pure and utter lack of curiosity about what was happening to me.

Again and again, I was shocked both by some of my “friends” and neighbors, and within the medical community. Instead of curiosity and support, there was quick judgement that it “couldn’t be” because “the COVID vaccine is safe and effective.”

Living in Minnesota, we have a world renowned medical institution a short drive from my house. I spent several nights in the hospital there assuming that they would either help get to the bottom of what was happening with me or at least study what was going on so that it would be less likely to happen to others. Sadly, I was mistaken.

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Four years later, unfortunately there is still a lack of curiosity. It is improving, but there is still division, judgement and stigma associated with and to all of those who have suffered reactions.

According to AI, the phrase “Curiosity Killed the Cat” is “a proverb used to advise against prying or being overly nosy about things that don't concern you. It suggests that excessive curiosity can lead to negative consequences.”

But, what about COVID vaccines and their safety? They concern everyone. The more we understand about why some people suffered a reaction, the safer we can make vaccines for all people. Was it our genetics? Was it a manufacturing issue? Was it the new technology?

We cannot know the answers to these questions unless we put down our judge gavel and get curious. When we judge a person we miss out on the opportunity for true human connection.

I love this scene from Ted Lasso. He says, “They [kids at school that belittled him] thought they had everything all figured out. So they judged everything and they judged everyone. And I realized that underestimating me, who I was, had nothing to do with it. Cuz if they were curious, they would have asked questions.”

I have come to learn that the lack of curiosity about my severe reaction to the COVID vaccine from those “friends”, neighbors, and doctors that didn’t ask questions, wasn’t about me either. It was about judgment based on fear.

Fear took many forms:

• Doctors were afraid of losing their licenses for spreading misinformation so that made a patient like me more complicated and dangerous to treat.

• Friends and neighbors were getting their boosters and bringing their children to get their vaccines which made my reaction scary.

• Mainstream news outlets didn’t want to cover stories like mine for fear of losing major funding from pharmaceutical companies.

Where there is fear there is lack of curiosity. You have to step away or take a pause from the fear in order to get curious, research and ask questions. Judging takes seconds. Curiosity takes more time and is more vulnerable.

In all court cases before a judgement is made curiosity includes discovery and a trial where evidence is presented. In 2021 when I had my severe reaction, I had doctors tell me “it doesn’t normally present like this” to which my response was “we have a brand new vaccine, maybe something new is happening.” I was hopeful he would get curious and help me figure it out.

Even though there are a few more researchers interested in those who suffered reactions, we are still stuck in a tough spot. It has been over four years for most of us and to date only the Yale LISTEN Study has stuck their neck out. We are a touchy subject. We are the elephant in the room.

The researchers at Yale saw the similarities between those with COVID Long Haul and those with reactions to the COVID vaccine. And instead of only focusing on Long COVID, Dr. Iwasaki and Dr. Krumholz included us in the study.

True scientific study requires curiosity. It requires a hypothesis and then testing and retesting that hypothesis. There was an emergency use authorization in place because the vaccine was rushed to market. Now that the emergency is over, we are long past due to study reactions in depth. Especially when pharmaceutical companies have immunity from liability for adverse reactions.

This part concerns me and was not something I was aware of until after I suffered my own reaction. Does the average person who accepts the booster understand that if they have an adverse reaction to the COVID vaccine that they can’t sue the manufacturer. I know I didn’t.

All manufacturers make mistakes and most are accountable for those mistakes with laws and class action lawsuits. They have a financial stake in the game. Corporations are driven by money so having a stake in the game would force them to improve the safety of the vaccine.

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat—snap judgments did. What I’ve come to understand through this journey is that true science, true progress, and true human connection all begin with curiosity. Not the kind that’s nosy or reckless, but the kind that’s brave enough to ask hard questions and sit with uncomfortable truths.

When we judge, we shut the door. When we get curious, we open it—to discovery, to healing, to each other. My story isn’t an attack on medicine or science—it’s a call to return to their core purpose: to learn, to evolve, and to care. Like Ted Lasso said so well, “Be curious, not judgmental.”

It’s not always easy. Curiosity takes more time. It requires humility, humanity and a willingness to say, “Maybe I don’t have it all figured out.” But if we want a future that’s safer, more compassionate, and more honest—we have to be willing to ask the questions, even the inconvenient ones.

That’s how we move forward. Together. As a team. As Team Humanity.

Our family had enough growing up. I went to private school and never suffered from food insecurity. Our lights were never cut off and in 8th grade we took our first big vacation on a plane, a trip to Disney World.

That being said, I knew our family was different from the majority of the rest of the families at our school. When my boots got holes in them, instead of buying new ones, my very resourceful mother gave us bread bags to put on our feet and into our boots to avoid our socks from getting wet. That way we could make it through the season with the same boots we had.

We shopped at the Sears Surplus Store and got beautiful hand me downs from different families at church.

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Her resourcefulness rubbed off on me. I am very careful not to be wasteful. Whether it’s the peanut butter on the side of the jar that I scrape out with a spatula or dismantling the self propel motor on the lawn mower so that I could bypass it and continue to use the lawnmower in push mode guaranteeing more years of use and with the added bonus of more exercise.

After working hard in Corporate America for many years, I got to the place where I didn’t need to put bread bags on my feet to keep them dry while stretching the use of worn out boots. Yet, I am still inclined to use things past their prime.

When I suffered a severe reaction to the COVID vaccine 4 years ago in April 2021, unfortunately where I spent my money shifted significantly. I spent tens of thousands of dollars on medical bills that I never anticipated to have to spend until well into my 70s.

So much of that money felt wasted to me. And, as I mentioned, I don’t like waste. I went to doctors and most didn’t know what to do. I walked away with prescription medications that often caused more new issues in the form of side effects than they did alleviate the symptoms I was struggling with. More wasted money.

Even worse, in some cases, I was paying my own hard earned savings to have a doctor tell me that “it couldn’t be Small Fiber Neuropathy” (but it was), because it doesn’t normally present the way I was describing it.

This is an age-old issue for anyone who has suffered from a rare disease. While frantically looking for answers, those suffering get their own mini medical degrees. I had different nurses and doctors both ask me if I was in the medical field. Nope. Never. I was just fighting for my life trying to find answers as my body was constantly sending me signals that my life was in danger.

I was dizzy and would run into walls, I would get strong heart pounding and rushes of blood to my head, my right pupil would dilate so large that I couldn’t see temporarily, there was a sharp unbearable and burning pain in my right thigh and worst of all. The. Fatigue. Was. Crushing.

Picture Source: Anna Botz Photography

You are probably wondering why this article is titled “How to Become a Millionaire” when all I am talking about is my humble beginnings and my medical expenses. When you experience a major medical issue, you quickly realize that all the money in the world isn’t going to cure you. That was certainly true in the case of my severe adverse reaction to the COVID vaccine.

So how do you become a millionaire? To quote Wes, a wise 81 year old bus driver that my husband works with, “You are a millionaire when you have your health.”

So many financial millionaires and billionaires have the funds to try everything and fly their private jets anywhere to get expensive treatments in world class facilities, yet even they are not immune to the ultimate fate that connects us all, our mortality.

I am writing this post not to be morbid, but to share the importance of never taking your physical and mental health and well being for granted. They are worth more than gold, more than one million dollars in the bank and more than a luxury trip around the world (not just to Disney World) in your own private jet.

I didn’t realize I needed to appreciate what my body did for me day in and day out, until that luxury was taken away from me and I couldn’t walk more than a block unassisted with no clear path back to sustained, unassisted mobility.

Please be careful and wise about all of the inputs to your body and your soul. Both are worth millions. Follow your gut in regards to:

What (foods, medications, media)

Who (friends, family members, politicians)

Where (cities, communities, jobs, housing)

Why (passions, talents, interests, intuitions)

When (now, in a month, in a year)

are right for you, your body, your soul and your spirit. When you get those inputs right, your own health and well being follow, even if you have suffered from a physical or mental health setback.

My life post severe reaction to the COVID vaccine is dramatically different than it was 4 years ago. My what, who, where, why and when have all changed. In some cases, I was forced to change them. For example, I lost my job. In other cases I made conscious decisions to change them. One of the most important ones was to build a new community. That community is Team Humanity, where we come together in unity.

If you want to be a millionaire, start by recognizing the quiet miracle of your own breath, your own heartbeat, and your ability to get back up when life knocks you down.

Real wealth is waking up without pain and walking without fear with someone who cares by your side. And when we build each other up—when we create community rooted in compassion, truth, and shared humanity—we tap into something even greater than healing.

We remember we’re not alone.

And that, right there, makes us all millionaires.

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To learn more about Team Humanity please read this beautiful post that our supporter Lindsay wrote:

I wrote the following post 5 years ago on LinkedIn. So much of what I said before I suffered a severe adverse reaction after my second COVID vaccine is even clearer for me now.

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LinkedIn Post from 5 Years Ago:

Reflections from a required pause...

As we are forced to slow down from the myriad of activities we all fill our days with, I hope we can reprogram our own lives, our businesses and our communities to what is really important.

Crisis brings clarity.

If I think of the times in my life when a crisis forced me to focus, when I eventually slowed down enough, it became clear where I needed to put my energy to make it through the crisis.

In this crisis, I choose my family, kindness and doing what I can to support small businesses. Today, as you pause amid the chaos of the crisis I challenge you to choose your own focus wisely too.

Wishing you the ability to find your clarity and lead through the crisis with kindness, empathy and courage.

I wrote about this same concept of crisis creating clarity again on LinkedIn 2 years ago.

LinkedIn Post from 2 Years Ago:

Crisis brings clarity. Last week I received notice that my 15 year career with U.S. Bank has come to an end.

I was part of the most recent round of layoffs. I am currently on long term disability [from my employer] as I have been dealing with a severe reaction to the vax for the past 15 months. [Update:: Disability was cut off in January 2024]. My health crisis has brought me so much clarity that losing my job doesn't feel like a crisis however, it is jarring.

Despite many setbacks, many unknowns and a need for chemotherapy infusions, I still hang onto hope that my health can and will improve in time. I will get back to doing triathlons again like the picture on the right from August 2019. I will be healthier than this picture of me on the left in the hospital due to cardiac issues and severe pain in March 2022.

I want to share some of my clarity with you as we have all experienced some level of trauma in the last two years, whether you lost your job, lost a loved one, lost friends or family due to differences in opinion, or lost your sense of what you believed to be true.

1. You have a choice in how you respond to what happens to you. Choose love over fear. Choose humans over profits. To honor that, I have chosen advocacy for those also injured with my Team Humanity community.

2. What you focus on grows. I am focusing on growing what I call #TeamHumanity in the purple overlap between red and blue politics. We are way too divided. We need to pull together and support each despite our differences. We are all human and we are all trying our best. We don't have to agree 100%, but we need to see each other as humans.

3. Prioritize your health. Move away from people and jobs that damage your health and wellbeing. Trying to heal from damage to your health takes years. I can attest to that as I am still trying to heal. It's not worth any amount of money, time or energy.

4. Don't lose hope. I have learned to have a relationship with pain that still allows for hope. To suffer is human. We all have that in common. Don't lose hope in your suffering. We have lost a number of injured to suicide as the experience is scary, painful, hard and socially isolating. I believe many who have lost their jobs may feel the same way. Be a beacon of hope for others.

5. Make kindness contagious. Make kindness a virus. It's free. Kindly share my post to help spread connections with the injured and hope for those who recently lost their jobs. Thank you! #TeamHumanity

In 11 days it will be 4 years since my severe adverse reaction. I have three more thoughts of clarity to add after a few more years post reaction.

1. Don’t take your body for granted. Your body communicates with you all the time. We are taught to, and get very good at, not listening to it. Eventually, that will catch up with you in the form of pain and health conditions. If you tune in and listen deeply it will guide you to your most right path for the well-being of your body, mind and soul.

2. Less is more. I used to fill my days with so many activities. I focused on wanting to be productive. There is beauty in slowing down. I also filled my house with many things I don’t even remember all that I bought. Passing those things onto others brings me joy, peace and a living space that is less cluttered, easing the cluttered space of my mind.

3. Let things flow. I used to believe I could control most things through trying very hard to get it all right. Trying hard is what kept my body stuck in Chronic Fatigue. It was an identity I used to survive until it backfired on me. Once I learned to let go and let things flow, my health started improving and a peace settled over me that I wish for everyone.

My life is not the same. My body is not the same. My heart and soul still stand even more firmly in the place of how much more alike we are than different. Please take a few minutes to find your clarity even outside of a crisis.

Think back to a time when you were in a crisis and try to remember what was most important to you. Bring those thoughts back into your day to day. When you do, you just might notice a change in your life, body, heart and soul that brings you a peace you never thought possible.

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The past few weeks I have had conversations with a few different friends about what is the hill that I would die on. For me it is easy to answer and it is simple. It is the reason I started Team Humanity.

My hill is that we are much more alike than we are different. To use a more eloquent phrase my friend and yoga therapist, Mandy (homeandyoga.com) said the last time we met, “May you feel connected oneness”. That connected oneness puts us all on the same team…Team Humanity.

The intensity of the teams and the clarity of my hill became glaringly obvious to me when I suffered a severe reaction after my second COVID vaccine. The team rivalry between those for the vaccine and those who were either against or unsure was more intense than a Minnesota Vikings vs. Green Bay Packers football game. Or for those who prefer soccer and Ted Lasso (love that show full of Team Humanity), Manchester United vs. Liverpool.

Honestly speaking, prior to having a reaction I was on the made up political “Team” that thought everyone needed to get the new experimental vaccine to save the elderly from potential death from COVID.

The vaccine was sold as safe and effective and despite knowing that all pharmaceuticals come with side effects, I was excited to “do my part.” and wasn’t thinking about the people who would suffer reactions. I got swept up onto the “Team” that I thought stood for humanity.

That could not have been the “Team” that stood for humanity because the only “Team” that stands for humanity is the team where we see each other as equals. It’s the Team where someone dying from COVID is as important as someone who dies after a reaction to the vaccine. Those are both human lives lost.

It’s the Team where we realize and feel that there is an underlying connected oneness in what it means to be alive and to be human. What it means to suffer and what it means to feel joy.

It is the connected oneness we feel when our suffering isn’t written off as a necessary rarity. We aren't just a statistic. We are a living soul full of pain, loss and sorrow worthy of being seen, loved and heard.

Society, social media, the news, marketing, and politics love to focus on our differences.

We have spent the past 5 years when the COVID pandemic started dividing into those who were doing it right and those who weren’t. It’s time for change. It’s time to show up in the purple intersection between red and blue politics. It’s time to cast aside our differences and focus on how we are alike. To focus on our connected oneness. To focus on our shared humanity.

I built Team Humanity believing that one day we could talk about COVID vaccine adverse reactions the same way we talk about cancer. It is real, it is hard, it happens to some people and demands a need for research, support and empathy.

Due to the intense politicization of the COVID vaccines, conversations about adverse reactions are still very adversarial. Those suffering reactions are not only in pain and financially devastated, they are socially isolated.

I am grateful that the Yale LISTEN study for post vaccine syndrome that I am a part of, has kick started more dialog around those of us who did suffer reactions. Frankly, in addition to gaining my health back, that was all I ever wanted from the beginning. I wanted scientists and doctors to get curious and figure out the common denominator as to why some of us had reactions. Knowing the why would help all of humanity.

Humans can’t help but judge. We are more comfortable in the black and white versus the grey or the red and the blue versus the purple intersection. Let’s work together to widen the grey and purple overlap. Let’s work to find our way back to each other.

And the next time you are about to post an us versus them social media message or cast a judging eye at the person who is sharing their story of pain that may seem ridiculous to you, may you feel connected oneness.

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I am quick to reject my own sadness. I tell myself that I have so much to be grateful for that I start “shoulding” on myself with all the reasons why I don’t deserve to be sad.

I have a roof over my head.

I have food in my cabinets.

I have a loving husband.

I have wonderful kids.

I have my ability to walk unassisted again.

The list goes on and on. I somehow have a lot of trouble sitting with both the “I haves” and the “I feel sad.” I feel like they are not allowed to go together. Did someone teach me this? Was it a message I picked up from society? Is this an innate law that I am not allowed to complain if someone else has it worse because I shouldn’t be ungrateful? Or is this just my soul’s journey?

I have a feeling I am not the only one that feels this way. After suffering a severe adverse reaction after my second COVID vaccine I wanted to find others who were also suffering because I didn’t want them to be alone.

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When I found them, all of my new friends were in so much pain. But, when they shared their pain with me they often said, “But it is not as bad as what you are going through,” or “It’s bad, but at least I never had to use a wheelchair.”

But their skin was burning with neuropathy, their heart rates were erratic and the pain was so intense they could barely stand it. It was awful for them, yet they didn’t want to complain because someone had it worse. How bad did it have to be before they showed themselves the same empathetic kindness they were giving to me?

This is what I call the self uncompassionate quick shove. And, it doesn’t do our bodies, our souls or our healing any good. We force ourselves to move past a moment of recognition for our own suffering, a moment of sharing our own struggles, straight to the thought that “others have it worse, so I don’t deserve to feel this way.”

The Self UnCompassionate Kwik (quick) Shove, or the SUCKS technique for short, does just that. It sucks. It is also contagious. When people tell me that their reaction wasn’t as bad as mine first I feel sad that they are utilizing the SUCKS technique on themselves and then my mind starts going to how my situation wasn’t as bad as others.

Then I get stuck in my own SUCKS technique.

Feelings don’t need to be deserved. They don’t need to be right. They just are. They are a part of being human. And when we use the SUCKS technique on ourselves and our own suffering it keeps us from witnessing our own needs. It stifles the very softening towards ourselves that it is essential to move through tough emotions. It sucks the air out of our own self compassion.

The other weekend, I had a moment with my family when I was not my best self. I was still in an amped up emotional state when I quickly jumped to apologizing for my reaction. Thankfully, my beautiful, wise soul of a daughter told me to give myself a minute. I didn’t need to apologize at that moment. I needed to allow myself time to be mad and sad about what triggered me.

I needed my 17 year old daughter to tell me to give myself a little space and some self compassion. She even told me what she was most concerned about in my not so pretty, human moment, was that I would be mad at myself for a long time afterwards. She wasn’t angry at me for my outburst. She was worried that I would stay angry with myself about my reaction.

Wow, just wow! How did I get so lucky to have a teenage daughter who is so empathetic?

She was willing to give me the time, space and compassion that I was so quick to dismiss for myself even though I desperately needed it. On top of that, she was guiding me to do the exact same thing for myself. And, she gave me the permission that I needed to take more than a hot second at that moment to feel everything I was feeling rather than shove those emotions aside and apologize.

Sadness is hard, but it’s real. It will stick to you longer if you shove it aside. It will come back at you in ways that don’t support your body, mind and spirit. Even if you do honor your sadness now, it is likely to come back in new ways with new experiences.

Don’t reject sadness. Honor and love and soften towards it. I know from experience that it is not easy. But, like my daughter did for me last weekend, I am reminding you now.

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Give yourself permission to take more than a hot second, to be sad and mad about the tough things going on in your life or with your loved ones. Even if it isn’t as bad as what someone else has going on. Even if you have a roof over your head, food in your cabinets, a loving spouse, wonderful kids and you can walk.

Your pain, sadness, anger and grief are all real. You shove them aside in an uncompassionate way and they will come back to bite you. True healing comes when we stop rejecting our sadness and start listening to it, honoring it, and holding ourselves with the same love we offer to others.

I recently had surgery to help relieve some of the symptoms that I have post severe reaction to the COVID vaccine. The surgery was to reduce compression on my internal jugular vein. I am very grateful that it helped. Now I have a very visible scar on my neck that reminds me of where I was and where I am now on my healing journey.

In some ways this scar makes it easier to tell my story. I can physically point to the left over line on my neck. It is proof that there was an issue that needed surgery for what were previously invisible symptoms.

We all have scars, both visible and invisible and both physical and emotional. Scars can be pinpointed to a date. April 13th was the date that I got my second COVID vaccine and my whole life changed overnight. May 8th is the date my dad passed away after a short battle with cancer. February 3rd is the date I lost a baby to an ectopic pregnancy.

Dates and scars go together. We don’t forget dates that big things happened; a life changing surgery, a shot that we had a reaction to, or the loss of a loved one. Most of our scars from these experiences can’t be seen by others.

Scars show areas of vulnerability, where our “body armor” was penetrated in order to “fix” something. They also show resilience. They are proof that the body heals. They are proof that you can go on after difficulty.

A number of people I know under the age of 60 have passed away recently from very short battles with cancer. My husband’s aunt, my childhood family friend and a colleague from work. Each of them leaving behind kids whose hearts have scars in the form of holes to be filled with memories because time spent together in person is no longer possible.

I remember the first time my daughter needed stitches after she fell at daycare and hit her eyebrow. I knew she would have a scar for life from such a young age and I thought, at the time, of how up until that point her skin was flawless.

But, are our scars our flaws? Or are they our badges of honor of a life well lived outside of a bubble? Don’t they show that we got literally knocked down and got back up again? Don’t they show that life can toss you days, months and years of some physically excruciating pain and experiences that leave you longing to be done and yet, you come out the other end stronger wondering how you made it through that rough patch?

Sometimes the scars get hardened and so do we. I have had both my physical scars turn keloid (enlarged, bumpy and red) and my emotional scars turn hardened in my life. Scars can make us inflexible.

Sometimes our scars hold us back. We are afraid of the vulnerabilities that they represent. We are afraid they will burst open again and cause us more pain or similar pain to how we got the scars in the first place.

And, sometimes our scars make us more flexible. They make us hone in on what really matters in life. They remind us that life is precious and vulnerable. They open us to the truth of our immortality and how no amount of attempt to control what scares us most is going to protect us from getting more scars in the future.

When we open to this combination of vulnerability and resilience there is a strength and a beauty that what is typically referred to as an “ugly scar” can represent. I believe our scars are our strength and with this strength comes a beauty so powerful that nothing can erase.

Lean into your scars. Hold them with compassion and not disgust. Don’t hide them. Look at them with awe of how incredible our bodies and souls are to have survived what we have survived with strength and grace and jagged edges.

Know that none of us are getting out of this thing called life without many, many scars. Some of them visible and physical, and some of them out of sight and emotional. Soften towards one another and support each other through the healing process of repairing our scars and honoring them for representing our courage to go through the hard stuff and come out the other side.

Choose to look at those jagged edges of those newer bigger scars or even the faded smaller ones with soft support. First start with yourself and your own scars. Once you have learned to soften towards your own vulnerable scars it will be so much easier to soften towards the scars that others are often carrying around hidden out of sight.

When I gently apply a wonderful salve that my wonderful neighbor created to help soothe the burn, sting and itchiness of the keloid scar I have from my recent surgery I feel grateful for the intense but important lessons I have learned over the past almost 4 years since my reaction to the COVID vaccine.

I hope you are able to not hide your scars away, rather wear them proudly as you soften to their needs for continued healing.

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