Bailz Has a Blog

Tag: trauma recovery

  • Numbing vs. Healing: Why I Chose Sobriety

    Numbing vs. Healing: Why I Chose Sobriety

    Hey, hi, hello! Happy Friday!

    Today I want to talk about my sobriety. I’ll be honest, I have very bittersweet feelings about it. On one hand, I am incredibly proud of myself. Like, over-the-moon proud. Not just because I saw what needed to be done and did it, but because I’ve done it on my own, cold turkey.

    I decided I wasn’t going to drink or smoke anymore and, with the exception of that small glass of champagne at dinner last weekend, I haven’t since November 17th. I haven’t sought out a drink, I haven’t ordered one, I haven’t made one. I haven’t smoked a bowl or lit up a joint or taken a gummy. I am actively getting sober all on my own, and that is huge.

    And at the very same time, I am grieving. Drinking, vaping, and THC have all been woven through my life and identity for years. Letting them go feels like losing old (very toxic) friends. Two things can be true at once: I’m deeply proud of myself, and I’m deeply sad.

    My complicated relationship with alcohol

    Drinking has been part of my life since I was 18. Even before I had my first drink, I already had an unhealthy relationship with alcohol in my head. I built this story that alcohol would help me fit in, make me “cool,” make me easier to be around. I believed that if I could drink a lot, people would be impressed by me.

    I sought it out at parties, with friends, anywhere I could. I wanted to feel buzzed, if not outright drunk. I wanted to escape, even though I never would have called it that back then. I told myself I was just “taking the edge off” or being social. It felt like a tool to turn down the volume on my anxiety and my overthinking. If I had a drink in my hand, I convinced myself I was easier to be around, less awkward, less “too much.”

    I drank whether I was out with friends or at home by myself. I was drinking almost every single night unless I was sick, and even on those nights, I felt sad and disappointed that I “couldn’t” drink. Looking back, it’s painfully clear that I was actively numbing feelings I didn’t want to deal with. It was always easier to pour another glass of wine than to sit with myself and admit something needed to change.

    A long chapter with nicotine

    Before I ever started drinking, there were cigarettes. I started smoking when I was 17, another desperate attempt to numb big feelings and try to fit in or become someone I thought would be easier to love.

    When I got to college, it really took off. I was smoking about a pack a day and I thought I was so cool for it. I was a moody English major at UGA, so of course I framed it as leaning into the “aesthetic.” I knew it was bad for me, but I told myself, “I’m young, I’ll quit later, it’ll be fine.” I loved the ritual: going outside, taking a break from everything else, just focusing on the cigarette. I really did love it.

    When I turned 23, vaping started becoming a thing and I tried it. Almost immediately, I switched from cigarettes to vapes. I could smoke inside now—big win, right? It was terrible and great at the same time. I vaped like a chimney until I was 31, and then when the negative side effects (like a perpetual sore throat and feeling constantly off) outweighed the high, I decided to quit. I quit cold turkey—no patches, no gum, just done. The withdrawal was absolute hell, but I did it. And I was so, so proud.

    Then, about two years ago, right after I created distance with my family and fell into heavy grief, I started hanging out with a new friend who vaped. One night, after a little too much wine, I asked if I could just have one puff. I told myself it was no big deal. Huge mistake.

    She had a disposable with her and offered it to me to keep since there “wasn’t much left.” I told myself I could control it. Spoiler: I absolutely could not. As soon as it ran out, I bought more. Before I knew it, I was vaping like a chimney again and ordering them online in bulk so I’d never run out.

    Very quickly, I was right back in addiction. I felt ashamed, disappointed, and embarrassed. I had been so proud to have quit, and then I threw all that work away for “just one puff.” I leaned hard on vaping again as a coping mechanism, and it was unhealthy on every level—physically, emotionally, mentally.

    Finally, a few months ago, I’d had enough. I threw all my vapes away. Again, the withdrawal process was hell, but I got through it. Twice now, I have quit nicotine cold turkey. I think that experience gave me the courage and proof I needed to admit that I could also get sober from alcohol and THC.

    My long love affair with THC

    I started smoking weed toward the end of college, and pretty quickly it became a daily thing alongside the alcohol. Once again, I told myself it made me fun and interesting and that people would be impressed that I smoked and drank as much as I did. I wore it like a badge of honor, when really it was a giant red flag.

    I leaned on THC heavily for a long time—not just for my anxiety, but also for my appetite. When I was struggling to eat, I told myself that weed “helped.” And sometimes it did make me hungry. But by the time it kicked in, I was usually too tired or out of it to make a real meal. So most of the time, I ended up eating tons of ultra-processed snack foods that only made everything worse.

    When I was going through chemo, I grabbed onto THC even tighter. I didn’t want to take all the prescription anti-nausea meds; I didn’t want more chemicals in my system than I already had from chemo. Weed was a more “natural” option, and it worked quickly for the nausea, so I convinced myself it was good for me and that I needed it.

    Up until very recently, I was numbing myself daily with some mix of alcohol, THC, and nicotine. Now that I’ve stepped back, it’s very clear how much that contributed to my burnout—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I was running from myself in every direction.

    Realizing “cutting back” wasn’t enough

    For a while, I tried to compromise with myself. I said I would only drink on weekends. I’d only smoke before meals “so I could eat enough.” I tried to negotiate with my addictions like they were reasonable roommates instead of what they really were—escape hatches that kept me stuck.

    But the more I “cut back,” the more I noticed I was counting down to the next time I was “allowed” to have a drink or smoke. My whole brain would orient around that next moment of relief. And as soon as I realized that, I knew I had a bigger problem on my hands.

    So I made the hard decision: no more “cutting back,” just no more. No more nicotine. No more THC. No more alcohol. Cold turkey.

    I am incredibly proud of myself for that. And I am also very much grieving. These vices became huge parts of my personality and my routines. They were my constant companions when I felt lonely, overwhelmed, or “too much.”

    Two things can be true: proud and grieving

    Last night, I got really sad about all of this. Not because I doubt my decision—I know this is the right choice for me—but because I am finally allowing myself to feel the grief beneath the habits.

    I’m sad for the younger versions of me who didn’t believe she was worth quitting for. The versions of me who didn’t think she had the strength to stop, who was so afraid of her own feelings that she’d rather numb them out every single night than risk being “too sensitive” in front of anyone.

    As long as I can remember, I’ve been told I was “too sensitive,” like it was a character flaw. So I adapted. I learned how to shove big feelings down and drown them in a glass or a puff or an edible instead of letting anyone see them. It felt safer to numb than to risk being shamed again.

    Now I’m realizing that if I truly want to heal, I have to learn how to feel my feelings in real time, in their full intensity, without immediately reaching for something to shut them off. And in order to do that, I have to let go of the things that help me numb.

    So that’s what I’m doing. And it is hard. It is also beautiful. Two things can be true at once.

    Learning to actually feel my feelings

    Last night in bed, I was thinking about all of this and I realized I wanted to write about it today. I decided I was finally ready to share this part of my journey in detail here.

    As I lay there, specific memories started surfacing—times when I wanted to drink, times when I drank way too much, times when I wanted to smoke, times when I got way too high, and most importantly, the “why” underneath all of it. And instead of shoving those feelings back down or distracting myself, I just let myself cry.

    I breathed through it. I let my chest ache. I let the tears come. And then, surprisingly, the wave passed a lot quicker than I expected and I was actually able to fall asleep pretty easily afterward.

    I’ve cried a few times while writing this post too. Same thing—it moved through me faster because I didn’t slam the door on it. I let the energy move instead of trying to hold it in or cover it up.

    Letting myself feel my feelings sounds like the most basic thing in the world, but for me, it’s brand new. I’ve struggled with this my whole life. So being able to do it even a few times feels huge. And I know I’m only able to do it now because I’ve given myself the space to get sober. I’ve taken the numbing mechanisms off the table so I can actually hear myself.

    I am incredibly proud of myself. I am also grieving. Two things can be true at once, and I am making space for both.

    Let’s talk about it 💬

    Have you ever given up a habit, coping mechanism, or identity that felt like “part of you,” even when you knew it wasn’t healthy? How did you navigate the grief and the growth that came with that change?

    Subscribe & walk this path with me 💜

    If you resonated with this, I’d love for you to stick around. I’m sharing my healing journey in real time—sobriety, nervous system healing, inner child work, and learning how to feel my feelings without numbing them out.

    Subscribe to the blog so you don’t miss future posts, reflections, and gentle reminders that you’re not alone in this.

    Love always, Bailz 💜

  • Learning How to Be Kind to Myself (One Quiet Day at a Time)

    Learning How to Be Kind to Myself (One Quiet Day at a Time)

    Hey, hi, hello! Happy Wednesday! 💜

    The more I move through this healing journey and actually pay attention to my inner world, the more I’m realizing just how mean I am to myself on a truly consistent basis. Being harsh, cruel, and hypercritical toward myself has been my default setting for so long that I didn’t even recognize it as cruelty — I just thought it was “being honest” or “holding myself accountable.”

    Now that I’m waking up to it, I’m finding myself in a strange kind of grief. Grief for all the past versions of myself who were trying so hard and never got any credit. Grief for the younger me who constantly made herself small because it felt safer than taking up space. Grief for all the times I chose beating myself up over giving myself even the tiniest bit of compassion.

    📸 Boudoir Photos & a Brutal Inner Critic

    On Friday, my boudoir photographer posted my sneak peeks in her VIP Facebook group, and I could not stop looking at them. At first, it was pure joy. I felt proud, powerful, and honestly kind of in awe of myself. Four out of the five photos were absolute bombshelly goddess energy — like, “who is that woman and can I be her all the time?”

    And then, slowly, my brain did what it always does. It zeroed in on the one photo I didn’t instantly love. The one that felt slightly “off.”

    Instead of soaking in the four images that made me feel incredible, I laser-focused on the one that didn’t. I picked it apart with the precision of someone who has decades of practice criticizing herself:

    • “My boobs look kinda squished.”
    • “My face looks weird. Why am I making that face?”
    • “My leg looks weird.”
    • And finally: “I look weird. I am weird.”

    Before I knew it, that was the only photo I was looking at. The only one I was giving power to. I even brought it to Heath and asked, “Am I being too picky? Do you even like this one?”

    He looked at me with so much sadness and love in his eyes and said, “You are so mean to yourself. Why are you so mean to yourself?”

    And it hit me like a freight train.

    I hadn’t even realized I was being cruel. To me, that voice is just… normal. It’s always been there. It’s the part of me that tries to “poke holes first” so no one else can. If I hurt my own feelings before anyone else gets the chance, at least I’m prepared, right?

    Except… no. That’s just self-harm in a socially acceptable outfit.

    I burst into tears because I knew he was right. I am so mean to myself. And all the excuses I’d used over the years — “I’m just pushing myself” or “I just want to be better” — suddenly felt really flimsy. If being this hard on myself actually worked, I’d be the best, happiest, healthiest version of myself by now. Clearly, it doesn’t work. So it’s time to try something different.

    Once I caught my breath, I did the only thing I could think to do: I deleted the picture from my phone. If it wasn’t there, I couldn’t keep going back to it like a self-esteem punching bag. As soon as it was gone, I felt a tiny bit lighter. Just a tiny bit — but it was something.

    We changed our plans for the evening, too. Instead of going out to dinner to “take advantage” of my hair and makeup, we stayed in. I put on my favorite comfy pajama set, we made cocktails, turned on Gilmore Girls, and just existed together on the couch. No performance. No expectations. Just nervous system recovery and cozy, quiet connection.

    🧠 Default Settings: Meanness, Pressure & Performance

    The weekend was busy and social, and somewhere in all the noise, I slipped right back into those old patterns of meanness without even realizing it. That’s the thing about defaults — they’re sneaky. Cruel self-talk has been my baseline for so long that it doesn’t even register as “mean.” It just feels like the truth.

    I stayed distracted on Monday because Heath was home sick, and I poured all my attention into taking care of him and being present with the dogs. I didn’t give myself much space to notice how I was feeling internally.

    Then Tuesday came. Heath went back to the office, I had quiet time alone, and everything I’d been pushing down started to surface. I had a really hard time writing my post that day. Everything I put on the page felt flat or pointless. I felt heavy and tired and depleted and — surprise — I was being incredibly hard on myself the whole time.

    And yet, even in that fog, I still showed up.

    • I got on the walk pad.
    • I made myself lunch.
    • I did yoga.
    • I showered and got dressed.
    • I went to therapy, even though a big part of me wanted to bail and avoid, avoid, avoid.
    • I wrote and published a blog post.

    From the outside, that looks like a pretty solid day. But internally, I was criticizing myself the entire time. Telling myself I was being dramatic. Telling myself I should be fine because “nothing bad happened.” Telling myself I was whining, that I was wasting time, that I wasn’t doing enough, that I should be doing more. I am always telling myself I should be doing more. It’s exhausting.

    🛋️ Therapy, Awareness & the 1% Rule

    When I sat down on the couch in my therapist’s office and she asked how I was, I decided to be honest: “I’m not great. I’m feeling pretty off.”

    I told her everything — what I’d done that day, how I felt like it “wasn’t enough,” and how it frustrated me that even after doing all the hard things (yoga, walking, feeding myself, showering, brushing my teeth), I still didn’t feel better.

    She stopped me and said, “Hey, that is HUGE.”

    She reminded me that doing the hard things especially on the hard days is a big deal. Rationally, I know this… but emotionally, I had completely lost that thread. I had started worrying that because I still didn’t feel good, I must not be doing enough. Cue more tears.

    I told her how I’d struggled to write my post earlier and how I felt like I hadn’t really said anything, but I hit publish anyway. She gently reminded me that my goal is authenticity — and sometimes authenticity looks like saying, “I don’t know what to say, I’m not feeling it today, but I’m showing up anyway.” Which, funnily enough, is exactly the kind of post I find comforting when it comes from other people.

    I also told her about this pressure I feel to always be “on,” even when I’m alone. I’m constantly narrating my life in my head as if I’m prepping the story to be told later — like I have to be interesting enough to justify existing. It’s like I’m trying to prove to some invisible audience that I’m worth the space I take up. And honestly… it’s exhausting.

    She asked if I wanted to try an awareness exercise, and I said, “Yes, please.”

    She guided me softly — helping me notice my feet on the floor, the support of the couch, the pace of my breathing. Little by little, I felt myself drop out of my spinning mind and back into my body. I felt my chest open up, my heart rate slow down, my abdomen unclench. My breath got deeper. My shoulders finally relaxed.

    When I got to a place where I could say, “I feel a little better,” she looked at me and said, “I need you to know that you did that. I guided you, but you brought yourself back.” Cue more tears.

    Through sniffles I said, “I can do hard things.” And I meant it.

    She encouraged me to keep practicing the awareness exercise on my own, especially at night. She told me to only aim for feeling 1% better — not 100%, not “fixed,” just 1%. If I feel 1% better afterward, that’s a win. Day by day, 1% adds up.

    That felt doable. I can aim for 1%. I can reach for tiny shifts instead of total transformation overnight.

    ☕ A Surprise Coffee & a Different Kind of Self-Care

    This morning, when my alarm went off, I did not want to get up yet — so I didn’t. I let myself stay snuggled with the dogs and set a timer so I’d still have time to do my pages and make my shake before I needed to leave for the chiropractor. I just felt heavy. Not sad, not panicked, just… slow.

    Today, for the first time since I started my chiropractic journey, I genuinely wanted to skip my appointment. But I knew I needed it, and I knew I would regret it if I didn’t go. My neck was still sore from the day before, so I got myself up, did my morning routine, and headed out the door.

    When I was on the table getting adjusted, Dr. Lauren casually asked me what I was planning to do for the rest of the day, and I told her honestly — “I’m not really sure… probably nothing. I’m still recovering from socializing this weekend.” She immediately lit up and asked if I’d ever been to a little coffee shop nearby. I said no, and she absolutely raved about it. She told me the coffee was amazing and the vibes were immaculate. I made a mental note, but I also knew that I probably didn’t have it in me today. I just wanted to go home and go back to bed.

    Then, as I was checking out, she called me over to the front desk and said she had something for me. She handed me a $10 bill and said, “Normally I have gift cards for the coffee place, but I’m out. Here — go get yourself a cup of coffee!”

    I was absolutely floored. These people are just… unbelievable. I thanked them over and over, and at that point, there was no excuse. I had to go. I owed it to them — and honestly, to myself.

    So I plugged it into my GPS and drove straight there.

    And she was absolutely right — the place was adorable. Warm lighting, cozy corners, lots of natural elements. I ordered an iced lavender-honey latte called The Bee’s Knees. I paid with the $10 bill and then put all the change in the tip jar because there was no universe in which I was not paying it forward.

    Once I had my coffee in hand, my instinct was to leave immediately — get in the car, head home, crawl back into bed. But something in me said, “No. Sit down. Take a minute.”

    So I did. I found a little corner seat, pulled out my phone to start scrolling, and then remembered I had a journal in my bag. I swapped the phone for the journal, grabbed a pen, and started writing.

    Earlier that morning I had seen a quote on Instagram that said:

    “If you consider yourself self-aware but only acknowledge the things you need to change — and not the things you’re doing well — you’re not self-aware; you’re just being mean to yourself.”

    I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

    So while I was sitting there, sipping my lavender latte, I decided to make a list of things I know I’m good at. At first it felt silly and awkward and uncomfortable… and then it didn’t. Then it felt kind. Then it felt necessary. I could feel the tension in my shoulders start to melt with each new bullet point.

    When I finally felt ready to leave, I got in the car — and instead of heading straight home, I just started driving. No plan. No destination. Just following whatever direction felt good in the moment. I explored a part of the metroplex I’d never seen before, windows down, coffee in hand, zero agenda.

    Eventually, when I felt ready to actually be home, I plugged in my address and hit “avoid highways” so I could take the long, scenic way back.

    By the time I pulled into the driveway, I felt more regulated than I had in days.

    🏡 Quiet Tasks, Gentle Wins

    When I got home, I went into the backyard and played with the dogs for a bit. Nothing big, nothing fancy — just fetch and sniffs and sunshine. Then I came inside and started tidying up the house. Not because I “had to” or because anyone expected it from me, but because I genuinely wanted to.

    Before he left this morning, Heath had specifically told me not to worry about the house, and to only focus on taking care of myself. So I didn’t go into productivity overdrive, I only did a few things that felt supportive, not punishing:

    • I did the dishes and cleared out the sink.
    • I stripped the bed and started washing the bedding.
    • I ran the robot vacuum through the kitchen and living room.

    And then I sat down to write this post.

    What a difference a day makes.

    Yesterday, I was struggling to find my words and remember my “why.” Today, I slowed down, focused on being present, let go of a lot of “shoulds,” and I feel so much better. Not perfect, not euphoric — just better. And that counts.

    💗 Learning to Celebrate ‘Better Than Before’

    I keep having to remind myself that healing isn’t linear. I know this. I’ve heard it. I’ve written it. But I also forget it all the time. And while it would be easy to beat myself up for forgetting, that would be the exact opposite of what I’m trying to learn.

    So instead, I’m choosing to gently remind myself each time I need to. I will keep showing up and doing the work. I will keep aiming for 1% better. I will keep practicing being kinder to myself — especially on the days when it feels the hardest.

    I’m becoming a version of myself I’ve never been before. Of course I’m going to trip over my own feet. Of course I’m going to lose my balance sometimes. That’s how learning works.

    Instead of criticizing myself for every stumble, I’m trying to be grateful for the lessons they carry. I am still very early in this healing journey, all things considered. Rather than berating myself for not being “further along,” I’m learning to celebrate that I’m already so much better than I was when I started — especially when I started this blog.

    I am doing the work. Some days are messy and loud. Some are quiet and small. All of them are worth sharing.

    💬 Let’s Chat

    Have you noticed places where your default setting is being mean to yourself? What’s one small, kind thing you could say to yourself instead today?

    📬 Want to follow along?

    If this resonated with you, I’d love to have you stick around. 💌 Subscribe below to get new posts delivered straight to your inbox — no algorithms, no pressure, just honest updates from my healing journey as they unfold.

    Thank you, truly, for being here with me while I figure all of this out. Your presence means more than you know.

    Love always,
    Bailz 💜

  • Gentle Healing: Therapy, Overthinking & Learning to Rest

    Hey, hi, hello! Happy Wednesday! 💜

    Yesterday I had my first appointment with my new therapist, and I am very optimistic about the work we’re going to do together.

    When I got to her office and sat down on the couch, the first thing she asked me was, “How does it feel to be sitting in here?” and I immediately got choked up and shed a few tears. Not because I was sad or feeling anything negative, but because I was just so proud of myself for doing all of the work to get myself there. So that’s what I told her.

    🌱 Being Seen & Recognizing the Work

    We talked about a lot during the hour, and the whole time I just had this overwhelming feeling that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

    I told her about all of the work I have already started doing on my own, specifically focusing on my nutrition, exercise routines, and my sleep hygiene. She made a point to tell me how big of a deal all of that was, and while I do know that I have been doing the work and it’s hard and I’ve made some progress, I have kind of been in denial about all the positive changes and truly just how hard the work I have been doing has been.

    Because of the environment I was raised in and my childhood experiences, my instinct is to poke holes in the good things before anyone else can. I tend to lean very hard on self-deprecating humor, and I have a hard time accepting compliments or any sort of positive remarks. It’s definitely a pattern.

    But she really made a point to acknowledge the work I have already done on my own and make sure that I realize how big of a deal it all is. And I really had to stop and think about it. I got choked up and teary all over again.

    I know that I have been making some big changes and I know that they’ve been hard, but I have given myself very little opportunity to really stop and appreciate that. To appreciate that it would be so much easier to just keep things how they were, to stick with what I know, and that I am choosing to do the hard work because I deeply want a better and happier and healthier life. And that I am not waiting for anyone to swoop in and save me anymore — I am doing the work myself. And she’s right, that is huge.

    I’ve been so focused on learning more, doing more, and getting better that I have not let myself stop and appreciate where I am now. And I think that is how I got into the mess I got into this weekend, which is still lingering a bit as I write this today. I haven’t been appreciating my victories; I’ve just been raising the bar higher and higher.

    My intentions are good — I want to get better. But part of getting better is being present. And that is something I really struggle with if I’m not paying close attention to my attention.

    🧘‍♀️ Listening to My Body

    So when I got home from my appointment yesterday, I took some time to rest and just be gentle with myself with a lot of intention. I made myself a healthy meal, I got on the walk pad after I ate, and then I snuggled up on the couch and watched an episode of the Mel Robbins podcast.

    I listened to my body and ate when I was hungry, even though it was not a “regular” meal time. I got my body moving when I felt some built-up energy looking for somewhere to go, and then I sought comfort mixed with some learning when I was ready to let my body rest.

    I slowed down and I really listened to my body — and my body rewarded me with allowing me to sleep through the night again. HUZZAH! 🌙

    I still woke up tired and a little groggy; it definitely took a bit for me to really feel awake and alert. But I was so excited that I had really slept that I didn’t even mind being so tired. I got up and did my morning pages and affirmations, I made myself my usual breakfast shake, I stretched out a bit, and then I got dressed and ready for the day.

    🌤 Sunshine, Lunch & Saying No to the Drink

    First I went to the chiropractor for my adjustment, and it felt incredible as always. After that, I headed to downtown Fort Worth to have lunch with my friend that I had rescheduled with on Monday.

    Texas still hasn’t gotten the memo that it’s November, so the weather was sunny, warm, and downright beautiful. We sat outside and had a lovely meal and just chatted about all the things — memories from over a decade ago, updates from the years that have passed in between, and things that we’re dealing with now. Solid girls’ lunch all around.

    While all of that was delightful, my anxiety was pretty high through the whole thing because we were in the heart of downtown. Parking was kind of a nightmare, it was super busy all around, construction everywhere. It was just a lot. Normally when I go downtown for anything, I am not the one driving (thank you, Heath!), so navigating it all put my nerves on edge to begin with. Then parking and walking through the city by myself set me on edge even more.

    I was also nervous that my friend was upset with me for having to reschedule (she was not) and I was so worried that she was going to give me shit for it (she would never) that I got myself worked up into a tizzy.

    By the time I got to the restaurant, I was pretty frazzled, but overall happy to be with my friend. She arrived a few minutes before me and had ordered a mimosa flight. I was VERY tempted to order a drink for myself as well. I came very, very close.

    I am a sucker for a Bloody Mary and I very much wanted something to calm my nerves in the moment. But I knew if I had one, I would almost certainly end up having two as we sat and talked, and then my anxiety would inevitably skyrocket later in the day. I also knew that I would be disappointed with myself. I set a goal that I would no longer be drinking during the week, and I didn’t want to break that promise to myself. I saw how the alcohol this weekend affected my mental health, specifically my anxiety, so I stuck with water for lunch — and I am very, very proud of myself for that.

    That is a win. That is a little change with a big impact. A little choice with a whole lot of significance. 💧

    ⚖️ Holding the Vulnerability

    Even though I didn’t drink, I still felt on edge for a lot of the time. It had nothing to do with her or the food or the conversation or anything like that. I think I am just still finding my balance from this weekend.

    Plus, therapy yesterday — while wonderful — also brought up a lot of old wounds that don’t just go away because I left the therapist’s office. I am still feeling vulnerable and a little drained from it. That is normal, and I need to acknowledge that.

    I didn’t want to reschedule again, even though I was tired going into lunch to begin with. I wanted to see my friend, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. She is only in town for a short time and I didn’t want to waste my opportunity to see her. So I powered through, and I am glad I did. But I am definitely feeling the effects.

    🧘‍♀️ Yoga, Baths & Letting My Nervous System Catch Up

    After we said our goodbyes and I started heading home, I felt myself get really, really tired. I knew that all of that had taken a lot of energy, and so instead of pushing myself and trying to force some chores around the house or get started on this post, I put on my PJs, curled up on the couch, and started watching My Neighbor Totoro.

    When I started to feel myself dozing off a bit, I turned it off because I didn’t want to miss anything. I decided to move into the bed and just commit to a nap there.

    But when I laid down and really tried to sleep, I felt a lot of nervous energy still bouncing around in my chest, and I couldn’t get my thoughts to slow down enough to really rest. So I ended up getting back up and doing some Yoga With Adriene. I started with a practice focused on regulating the nervous system. When I was done with that one, I still felt a little off, so then I did another one specifically for overthinking.

    After that, I drew myself a bath and let myself soak for 30 minutes and listen to some music and just breathe.

    I am feeling a little better now — definitely not as anxious, but still tired and definitely excited for bed tonight.

    📊 Looking Ahead: Progress & Gentleness

    Tomorrow I have my first progress appointment with the chiropractor to redo all of my scans and see how far I’ve come since I started getting adjusted three times a week. I am VERY excited.

    I’m sure there will still be some problem areas that stand out — I’m only one-third of the way through my 90-day care plan, there’s still work to be done. But I can feel a significant shift in how my body feels day to day, and I am excited to see visual representations of how far I have come.

    Tonight I am going to continue being gentle with myself. I’m going to make myself a nice healthy meal, and I’m going to crawl into bed early and read until I fall asleep.

    I hope that I have another night of uninterrupted sleep ahead of me. But I also know that if I don’t, it doesn’t negate all the progress I’ve made. I will be gentle with myself and focus on breathing deeply and meditating until I fall back asleep.

    💬 Let’s Reflect Together

    💜 If this resonated, leave a comment — I’d love to hear how you’re navigating your own healing journey.

    • Have you ever surprised yourself by how much progress you’ve made without realizing it?
    • What’s one habit you’ve worked hard to build that you’re proud of?

    📬 Stay Connected

    If you’ve been enjoying following along on my healing journey — the messy parts, the breakthroughs, the small victories, and the tiny-but-mighty shifts — I’d love for you to stick around. Subscribe below so you never miss a new post. We’re learning, growing, and figuring this out together. 💜

    Love always, Bailz 💜

  • 🌿 How to Do the Work (Literally)

    🌿 How to Do the Work (Literally)

    I started reading How to Do the Work by Dr. Nicole LePera, and within the first few pages, I knew — this is exactly what I need right now. I’m only about a third of the way through, but it’s already resonating deeply. 💜

    Dr. LePera opens the book by describing what she calls the “dark night of the soul” — that rock-bottom moment when everything in your life feels misaligned and something inside you quietly says, “this can’t be it.” As I read her words, it was like reading my own story. I could feel myself in her descriptions of burnout, dread, brain fog, and emotional exhaustion. I found myself nodding and whispering, “me too.”

    🧘‍♀️ Starting with the Body

    When she said the first step in her healing was focusing on her body — movement and nutrition — I decided to follow her lead. And I’ve really been leaning into it.

    To start, I did a 45-minute Deep Stretch Yoga with Adriene session. It’s one I’ve done before, but it had been a while, and I was pleasantly surprised to notice how much progress I’ve made. I held every pose, stretched deeper than I could before, and finished feeling both grounded and proud. ✨

    After yoga, I hopped on the walk pad for another 45 minutes. I usually keep my pace at 3.0, but today I pushed myself a little — up to 3.4 — and wow, I felt it! It was that perfect mix of loving and hating it at the same time. More sweat, yes (ew), but also more endorphins. Totally worth it.

    🌬️ Walking in Silence

    As of yesterday, I have changed up my walking routine. No TV, no music, no podcasts. Just silence. Just me, my breath, and the rhythm of my steps. And, today, when I took away the distractions, my mind got loud. Without a hilarious Jim-and-Dwight prank to fill the space, old feelings started bubbling up. Anger. Frustration. Resentment from years ago.

    My first instinct was to run — to stop walking, grab a snack, turn on the TV, scroll my phone — anything to numb it out. But instead, I kept walking. I let the anger rise. I let myself feel it fully. I reminded myself that anger is a natural response to crossed boundaries. It’s not something to shame or suppress. So I breathed through it, felt it, and then… it passed. As easily as it came up, it dissolved. I honestly can’t even remember what triggered it now. It’s just gone. 🕊️

    🐾 Energy Flows Both Ways

    After my walk, I hydrated, had a protein shake, and took my vitamins. Then I decided to give both dogs a much-needed bath. Neither was thrilled, but they handled it better than usual — especially Winston. Normally, he’s nervous and strong enough to make bath time a full-body workout for me, but today, he was calmer. Maybe the calmest he has ever been for a bath. I can’t help but think he was mirroring my energy. Because I was calmer, he could be too. 🐶

    💫 Exploring Somatic Work

    I’ve been coming across the term somatic therapy a lot lately, so today I looked into it more. I found a short 7-minute beginner somatic routine on YouTube and followed along, then added Day 1 of a 30-day series for overwhelm. After that, I did a Yoga with Adriene session designed to regulate the nervous system. It was the perfect sequence — movement, breath, calm.

    Afterward, I took a hot shower, shaved my legs after a few weeks of neglecting them, and moisturized head-to-toe with my favorite body oil from Salt Soothers in Guthrie. Their products are magic. ✨ Then I put on my coziest oversized T-shirt, thick socks, and sat down to write this post — feeling clean, calm, and present.

    🌸 Real Progress

    I’ve definitely been on the struggle bus lately — and in denial about it — but today felt like a turning point. I’m starting to bring myself back to center. It feels good to nurture my body again, and I can feel my mind and spirit following along.

    I’m still struggling with sleep, and last night was rough, but I have a feeling that the more I reconnect with my body, the more that will start to heal too. I’m learning that progress doesn’t always look like productivity — sometimes, it looks like gentle consistency.

    Thank you for being here. I’m so grateful for your presence on this journey. 💜

    Love always,
    — Bailz