Vitamins, Trauma Release, and the Great Bed Flood
If you ever wondered what a "wild day" looks like in my world, today was the gold standard. I barely had a second to catch my breath, let alone a snack.
The Hustle (at 2x Speed)
The day started with the morning vitamin ritual—because if it’s not on social media, did the cells even get nourished? From there, it was straight into holding space for four clients back-to-back. I want to be clear: no matter how fast my world is spinning, I never rush a client. My 90-minute massage at the office was a sanctuary of stillness for them, even if I was internally vibrating at a 10. I always put my clients first; it’s usually "me" that gets the hustle.
I was this close to being late to PT because my NAD+ injection schedule was having a boxing match with my alarm. I managed to jab that NAD+ into my system in the tiny window between my office and heading out to see my medically fragile clients.
The Mid-Day Anchor: Tria PT
In the middle of that whirlwind, I made it to see Corey Newman at Tria PT of Burnsville. I’ve been seeing him once a week since Nov. 19th. At first, I think he thought I was a little "out there"—most people do when you start talking about energy and the body holding onto the past. But I kept showing up for ME. Now? He gets it. He understands how well I know my own body, and I’ve been able to share my story as I heal.
The Science of the "Itch"
When that needle goes in and the skin starts to swell or itch, it’s a biological revolution:
• Breaking the Lock: Muscles locked in ischemia (starved blood flow) for years are forced to accept a surge of oxygen and hydration.
• The pH Reset: The needle helps neutralize the acidic environment of "stuck" tissue, flushing out metabolic waste.
• The Emotional Flush: It’s not just "toxins." It’s painful memories leaving the building. The freer my body becomes, the more I am okay with all of me. Mentally, physically, and spiritually, I am finally learning how to exhale.
The "Perfect" Ending
I finally made it to bed. My son is laying here with me, I’m finally resting, and I’m realizing my goofy ass forgot to eat today. Not a crumb. I gave all my "nurture" to everyone else. I’m laying here, trying to write this blog, when my dog decides he hasn't had enough attention. As I’m trying to type, he literally steals the water bottle out of my hand, dumps the water all over my bed, and is now sitting here playing with it while my son just watches the chaos unfold.
Wet sheets. No food. A mischievous dog. A son who witnessed the whole heist.
To me? These are the best kind of exhausting days. It’s messy, it’s soggy, and it’s real. I’m free, I’m healing, and apparently, I’m sleeping in a puddle tonight.
Stay weird, y'all.
