Rebuilding Trust in your back
My Story, and Why This Work Matters

In May of 2020, I woke up one morning and couldn’t move.
Not the kind of “ugh, my back feels stiff” can’t move.
The kind where your body simply says
no, and you don’t yet understand why.
I tried to roll over in bed and nothing happened. I remember lying there thinking, This is strange. I was a movement teacher. I exercised for a living. I knew bodies. And yet, my body had decided it was done cooperating.
That moment marked the beginning of a long, humbling, frustrating, and ultimately clarifying chapter of my life.
Six Months of Trying to Outsmart My Body
Over the next six months, I did what a lot of capable, driven people do when something goes wrong: I tried to manage it instead of listening to it.
I changed my diet.
I swapped pillows.
I adjusted how I slept.
I was deeply committed to Biofreeze.
I saw a chiropractor.
I saw a massage therapist.
I stood all the time because sitting felt unbearable. And every time I stood up from a chair, it felt like I was being tasered through my hip.
Still, I kept teaching.
This was 2020, so everything had moved to Zoom. I taught my classes. I demonstrated most of the exercises. I told myself that as long as I could keep moving, I was okay. I told myself that stopping would mean losing everything I had built.
The truth?
I was terrified.
Terrified of losing my job.
Terrified of not being able to teach.
Terrified that if I stopped moving, I’d never start again.
So I ignored the signals.
When Ignoring Stops Working
Eventually, I could barely sit at all. Standing was my default. And then one night, the pain crossed a line.
I couldn’t roll over in bed without crying.
That was the moment I knew: this wasn’t something I could muscle through anymore.
I finally scheduled an MRI.
The results showed two herniated discs:
- One at L5–S1
- One at L1–L2
The doctors believed the upper herniation was older. All of my symptoms were coming from the lower one.
I went through two cycles of prednisone. And for the first time, I did something that felt completely against my identity:
I stopped.
(Okay—I still walked. I’m a mover after all.)
But I stopped trying to fix myself through effort alone.
What Fear Took From Me—and What It Taught Me
Here’s the part that matters most, and the part I wish I’d understood sooner:
A lot of what prolonged my recovery
wasn’t the injury itself.
It was my fear.
Fear of losing my career.
Fear of starting over.
Fear of going back to basics.
I teach the mind–body connection every day. And yet, in my own body, I couldn’t access it. I wasn’t listening. I was negotiating. I was overriding.
My body wasn’t telling me I was broken.
It was telling me:
It’s okay. You just need to start again—differently.
It took over a year before I would take anyone else’s class. I had to relearn how to watch movement before doing it. I had to understand what my body needed to see, feel, and trust again.
Today, I have a very clear sense of what I can do, what I shouldn’t do, and what I need more time with. That clarity didn’t come from pushing harder—it came from paying attention.
The Professional Perspective I Didn’t Trust (But Should Have)
For several years, I worked at a physical therapy office in Portsmouth that specializes in back pain recovery.
At the time, I assumed that because I wasn’t a physical therapist, I didn’t know that much.
That assumption turned out to be wrong.
I learned a great deal there—but I also realized how much I already understood through Pilates, movement education, and lived experience.
Here’s what I know to be true now:
Once someone is cleared to move, thoughtful movement guidance matters deeply.
People don’t just need exercises.
They need reassurance.
They need options.
They need to rebuild trust in their own decision-making.
That’s where I do my best work.
Why I Created Rebuild Trust in Your Back
This is exactly why I created Rebuild Trust in Your Back.
This series is for people who:
- Have experienced back pain
- Have been told they’re allowed to move again
- But feel scared, hesitant, or unsure where to begin
It’s for the people who are afraid to join a group class.
The people who worry they’ll do something wrong.
The people who don’t want to be “fixed,” but don’t want to stay stuck either.
This work isn’t about pushing.
It’s about
listening.
It’s about rebuilding confidence, layer by layer.
I wish I had given myself this kind of space sooner.
An Invitation
If you see yourself in any part of this story, I invite you to join me.
This upcoming session of Rebuild Trust in Your Back is limited to 12 people, intentionally. I want to know who I’m working with. I want to make sure our goals align. And I want to create an environment where you feel supported—not rushed.
If you’re interested, message me soon.
We’ll talk, make sure this is the right fit, and take the next step together.
You’re not broken.
You never were.
Sometimes, you just need permission—and guidance—to begin again.














































































































