This is what it took to get here
There was a time I nearly forgot the sound of my own voice.
Not because I had nothing to say…
but because it felt like no one could hear me.
When my work was quietly erased, when years of videos disappeared and my voice was silenced without explanation, something inside me went quiet too.
What began as passion… as devotion… as source… collapsed into stillness.
And for a while, I wondered if I was meant to disappear along with it.
VS Club — and my channels — were born out of something much bigger than a website.
It was meant to be a home.
A body of work.
A place for truth to land.
When it stopped growing, when pieces of it were taken away, it wasn’t just work I was losing.
It was a part of my life.
Around the same time, life began to take other things too.
I lost my father — my last parent.
And I walked away from my life in golf — when it no longer honored who I was.
And quietly… I lost people I once believed would always be there.
And yet… I am here.
Not because it was easy.
Not because the door reopened.
But because I refused to disappear.
Years before any of this… my body had already been trying to speak to me.
My life as an LPGA golf professional came to an end, not by choice —
but through illness.
Years of pesticide exposure on the course slowly rewrote my body’s language.
Chronic back pain followed.
My strength faded.
And the life I once thought was permanent quietly dissolved.
Illness has a way of humbling you.
It strips away everything you thought you were…
and leaves you face to face with what matters most.
Getting sick didn’t just change my body —
it changed my life.
It was during that unraveling that something deeper returned.
Illness brought me closer to God.
It softened me… humbled me… opened me.
And in the quiet places where I once felt afraid,
I found myself praying not just for answers —
but for guidance and truth.
I leaned on God in ways I never had before.
And somehow… He carried me through.
But this wasn’t the first time God had met me in the dark.
When I was eleven years old, I died.
I was thrown from a horse, and though they tried to bring me back, I left my body.
I remember the distance from the world.
I remember the tunnel with a beautiful light at the end of it.
And then suddenly… I was back.
I only understood later that it must not have been my time.
When I returned, even as a child, I carried something back with me:
A quiet knowing.
A clarity I could not explain.
A sense that my life was meant to be lived in service — and lived well.
Actions mattered.
Kindness mattered.
Truth mattered.
And somehow… I understood that my work in this life would be to help others.
The next chapter of my life unfolded through learning.
Quietly.
Deeply.
Completely.
I studied not only because I was curious —
but because I was called.
Because my own life had taught me what suffering asks of you.
Homeopathy became my language.
Food became my medicine.
The nervous system became my compass.
And slowly… learning became a way of being.
Along the way, I was guided by teachers who changed me.
Who shaped me.
Who trusted me with their wisdom.
I learned that healing is not something you do to another —
it is a space you walk into together.
Over time, through study and years of practice,
what I was learning became second nature.
I learned from masters who carried knowledge in their hands and humility in their hearts —
from physicians, teachers, herbalists, healers, and scientists who reminded me that medicine begins with listening.
I am grateful beyond words for the lineage I walk within.
For the minds I learned from.
For the wisdom I was trusted with.
For the paths that opened when there had once been only darkness.
My roots are in classical homeopathy, natural detox and drainage, plant-based nutrition, and herbal medicine.
Along the way, I was blessed to study with teachers such as David Little, Dr. Farokh Master, and Dr. Luc DeSchepper —
in addition to many others whose influence lives quietly in every life I touch.
I had a clinical homeopathic practice for over twenty-seven years —
and my passion for this work is still alive and growing.
I am not here to perform.
I am not here to impress.
I am here to tell the truth.
To walk honestly.
To live what I teach.
And to serve from a full heart.
If you found your way here, I believe it wasn’t an accident.
And if something in you stirred while reading this —
if something softened or breathed…
it matters.
Welcome.
And slowly, something gentler returned.
Not the life I lost —
but a deeper one beneath it.
A life no longer measured by reach or likes…
but by truth.
By quiet moments.
By who I was becoming when no one was watching.
And from that place… I began to build differently.
Not a brand.
Not a platform.
Not a performance.
But a life that could hold me.
A home inside myself.
A way of living that did not require approval.
I began to listen more than I spoke.
To choose what was quiet over what was loud.
To value what was real over what was impressive.
And slowly, something changed.
Today, my life is quieter.
Not smaller —
just truer.
I share my life with Lloyd, the man who has walked beside me for many years.
My partner in life.
My companion in storms and stillness.
We tend a garden that teaches us patience.
We care for animals who teach us presence.
We share homemade meals, often from our garden, and the quiet beauty of ordinary days.
My home looks out over the hills.
My kitchen fills with sunlight.
My hands are often dusted with flour, soil, or fur.
This is not a retreat from the world.
It is a return to it…
as it was always meant to be lived.
And everything I offer now comes from this place.
From lived faith.
From walked-through grief.
From a body that had to learn how to heal itself.
From a heart that refused to harden.
And finally, from a woman who learned how to weave wisdom into daily life —
into cooking, baking, and choosing a simpler, more holistic way of living…
a life that feels richer than anything I have ever known.
I am no longer chasing a version of success I once believed was required to carry the message further.
I am building a life that feels like truth.
And if you are here, reading this…
maybe you are doing the same.
I stopped trying to be heard…
and began living the message God quietly wrote into my life —
becoming myself again.
… and here I am
