We rarely question why objects designed for harm are turned into colorful toys and handed to children. Yet toy guns are one of the earliest forms of social programming we experience. Before a child can grasp the meaning of violence, they’re practicing the roles our culture has quietly assigned to them — the hero, the protector, the one who meets danger with force.

A toy is never just a toy. The brain wires itself around whatever is repeated, and toy gun play often links excitement with adrenaline, power with threat, and conflict with control. These patterns become early templates for how a child understands safety, identity, and personal power.

This isn’t about blaming parents or demonizing childhood play. It’s about recognizing how deeply symbolic these toys are. They teach boys that bravery is something external and forceful, and they teach girls that protection comes from someone else. Without question, without reflection, the story begins here.

To heal the patterns we carry into adulthood, we have to see the subtle conditioning that shaped us - sometimes beginning with something as small and innocent as a plastic gun.

We didn’t end up in this fractured world by accident. For generations, we’ve been shaped by systems that value power over people, distraction over depth, and conformity over truth. I grew up watching this play out firsthand—living in poverty, relying on government programs, and witnessing how quickly trust in authority could turn into a kind of blindness. Many of us were raised to believe that the very structures harming us were the ones keeping us safe. But once you start peeling back the layers, you see how deeply this conditioning runs, and how much of our stress, division, and emotional chaos stems from narratives we never chose.

The real work begins when we decide to stop numbing ourselves and start listening to the wisdom within our bodies, our relationships, and our creative impulses. This shift is not comfortable—it demands honesty, courage, and a willingness to navigate the dark corners of our own internal landscape. But on the other side of that discomfort is expansion. When we heal our nervous systems, reconnect with nature, build relationships rooted in mutual support, and reclaim our creativity, we begin forging a world that operates outside the system’s grip. Change doesn’t come all at once; it begins with each of us choosing to live in a way that honors our humanity instead of suppressing it.

I started my journey into the “spiritual” world a little over four years ago, and what began as quiet curiosity soon became a blazing fire of inquiry I could no longer ignore. Like many, I spent years shape-shifting, hiding the questions society didn’t want us to ask—questions about God, suffering, purpose, and why we’re really here. It wasn’t until I silenced the outside world and turned inward that I realized how much of myself I’d lost trying to conform. Books like The Body Keeps the Score and teachings from Dolores Cannon cracked open a part of me I’d buried beneath layers of trauma and people-pleasing. Suddenly, the “unknown” didn’t feel so far away—it was in my body, my breath, my thoughts. It was me. But the flood of awakening and moving so quickly through it didn’t come without consequences. I overloaded my mind, ignored my body, and had to learn the hard way that true spirituality isn’t just about expansion—it’s about integration. It’s coming home to the body, to the present, while holding space for infinite truths to emerge. I’m still learning, still sitting with the mystery. But for now, this is my truth—and I’m here to share it.

Navigating the complexities of Western and Eastern medicine has been one of the most challenging yet eye-opening journeys of my life. After years of medical trauma, misdiagnoses, and symptom shaming, I found solace in functional medicine—only to be met with the harsh reality of its cost. When my husband’s new job provided excellent insurance, I faced a difficult decision: do I trust a system that has failed me before, or do I abandon the knowledge I’ve gained in favor of what’s accessible?

This internal tug-of-war led me to a realization—perhaps healing lies not in choosing one over the other, but in blending both approaches. While Western medicine evolves, embracing practices like acupuncture and mental health care, we still have a long way to go. Real health requires more than medication; it demands self-awareness, stress management, and the willingness to listen to our bodies. Imagine a world where we see our well-being as a sacred responsibility—where we honor our wrinkles, trust our gut health, and embrace healing beyond prescriptions. That’s the future I long for—a true blending of medicines, where care is not just a privilege, but a right.

Introducing My New Blog - A blog created to inspire and educate - to create real personal and collective growth. By facing the shadows, we can shed light on topics that are often taboo or overlooked. From there, we can generate real hope as we bring awareness to these conversations that have the potential to evolve into real change.

In my opening blog, you’ll learn a whole lot about me and what inspired me to start writing.