In 2002, my dad passed away tragically from his alcoholism. I was in the midst of grief, my first big loss, and I did not know how to process it. Anger. Disbelief. Regret. Shock. All the emotions that come with grief moved through me.

I did not realize at the time that these emotions were supposed to exist, that they were part of the healing process. Instead, I went to a medical doctor who prescribed Zoloft. Within a few weeks, I no longer felt the emotions. I was numb. I continued taking it as prescribed and went about my days.

But my days did not have meaning. They did not have life. I was existing, numb even to happiness.

So I stopped taking the Zoloft. That is when the electrical shocks down the back of my neck began. It was torture, and I was not sure what was causing it. Then I realized it was the medication. I asked my doctor about it, and he was oblivious to this side effect. So I decided to take it into my own hands. I went back on the prescription and intuitively weaned myself off of it.

I did not have help then. I wish I had known how important it was to repair my neurotransmitters, and that there were ways to reduce withdrawal symptoms while healing and repairing my brain at the same time.

Now I know and understand this.

My husband was first prescribed opiates for a hernia surgery and a root canal. In 2006, we realized he had become addicted, and we sought treatment at a recovery center, where he was placed on Suboxone, an opiate antagonist meant to help him wean off.

He stayed on Suboxone for six years. For six years, I watched him become a zombie.

No passion.

No life.

No light in his eyes.

Just... existing.

He never received functional labs. He was never offered a genetic test to see if the medication was even a fit for his brain chemistry.

I begged his doctor to help him get off. I begged for real solutions, not dependency. I was dismissed. “If they're keeping him alive, why would you want him off them?” But he wasn't alive. He was surviving.

Then, he weaned himself off of it. The withdrawals were so horrible that he reached for the comfort he knew. In 2012, he returned to opiates.

For the next 21 months, he battled his addiction. In and out of jail. In and out of outpatient treatment centers.

During all of that time, nobody ever addressed nutrition, vitamin or mineral deficiency, neurotransmitters, genetics, thyroid or hormone imbalance, blood sugar, nervous system regulation, or dehydration.

And eventually, he wasn't even surviving anymore.

In 2012, I was injured in a car accident and sustained a brain injury along with physical injuries.

I lay on my bedroom floor crying, not sure how I would move forward, care for my children, and provide a living while I literally could not work. My brain did not work. A year of neurorecovery left me nowhere. They only wanted me to focus on brain exercises.

On November 25, 2013, I received the devastating news that my husband had passed away.

Years later, that same doctor was charged with over-prescribing narcotics to people who were never even his patients.

I carry that loss every day, and it became the reason I do this work. I believe people deserve real answers, grounded in real science, long before another prescription is offered as the only path.

I have watched loved ones placed on antidepressants, anti-anxiety medications, and pain pills for having real, human feelings. They were never provided with functional labs or genetic testing to check whether the medication was even the right fit for their brain chemistry. I watched tolerance build and doses climb. I watched them keep struggling.

My husband was one of them.

In 2018, my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. For the next four years, I became her caregiver, showing up for her in the ways she needed as her memory faded and her needs changed.

Watching someone you love slowly change, while still holding onto pieces of who they are, teaches you something no textbook can. I learned patience, presence, and how to grieve someone who is still in the room with you.

My mother passed away in 2022. Caring for her deepened everything I already believed about the brain: how fragile it can be, how much it deserves protection, and how much what we do for our brain health today shapes the years we have ahead.

We are meant to have emotions and feelings. It is part of the human experience, and our symptoms carry wisdom.

When you use targeted amino acid therapy, cofactors, nutrition, and functional labs to address the underlying imbalances in the body, the brain can heal. This is orthomolecular medicine, studied and practiced for more than thirty years by clinicians like Julia Ross, Carl Pfeiffer, Joan Mathews Larson, and Kenneth Blum. Combined with somatic movement, the healing goes even deeper.

The approach dates back to 1968, when the term was coined by Linus Pauling, PhD, a molecular biologist and two-time Nobel Prize recipient. It is a scientific approach that aims to correct underlying biochemical imbalances using therapeutic doses of nutrients, diet, and detoxification, supporting the body in doing what it already knows how to do: heal.

Think about an open wound. The body repairs it. The same repair process is happening internally, every day. Our bodies and brains want us to be in balance, and they work hard to get us there. When we give them what they need, they heal.