Healing Can Be Holy and Hilarious

Healing is sacred—but it doesn’t always have to feel serious.

We tend to imagine healing as a solemn process—something that happens in silence or in the dark, a private reckoning that’s both sacred and hidden. Sometimes, your healing can make others uncomfortable, and you may choose to hide—not only to avoid judgment, but to protect your experience from being misunderstood.

Stillness, ritual, and reverence can hold us during deep work; they help chart the course when we’re unraveling or returning to ourselves—but they’re not the whole picture.

Some of the most healing moments in my life didn’t happen in ceremony or during meditation—they happened barefoot in my living room, spinning in circles to a song I forgot I loved. They happened mid-laughter, mid-silliness, in the quiet joy of making faces with my daughter. They happened when I stopped trying to do healing the “right” way and allowed myself to feel good enough to let happiness and pleasure back in.

Healing Isn’t Just One Thing

Healing is not a fixed process—it’s a fluid one. It moves. It shifts. It changes shape.

Sometimes healing is slow and reflective; other times, it’s chaotic, strange, or unexpectedly light.

It doesn’t just happen in the tears and the breakthroughs—it happens in the 9pm dance party, or in the meme that arrives at just the right moment and breaks the tension you didn’t know you were holding. Yes, you need the friend who sees and understands you—but sometimes, you also need the friend who doesn’t offer advice, just laughs with you until something inside you softens.

Sometimes healing begins in the quiet, but it finds momentum in moments that remind you what it feels like to be fully alive—before things got so heavy.

These moments matter too. They don’t cancel out the pain, but they create space for light to return after darkness. They remind us that joy isn’t a betrayal of healing—it’s part of it. It is the return of hope.

The Wisdom of Children

There’s a reason children bounce back more quickly than adults to minor setbacks. It’s because they are able to move their bodies and in doing so, move their feelings so they don’t get stuck. They laugh a lot more than adults which helps regulate their nervous system. They chase joy, not other people’s opinions.

Somewhere along the way, many of us found that life is hard and therefore everything got hard. Even healing. Even joy.

And it is hard, but it doesn’t have to feel impossible or unattainable or scary all the time. Healing can feel sweet and soft, a gentle brush of joy returning, the soft bubble of laughter calming the area in our bodies where we hold pain and tension. We can play frivolously and let life return to places in our hearts where something died.
Joy doesn’t replace the hard work— it balances it.
It reminds the nervous system that healing needs balance more than anything else.

Let me Help You Find Joy in Your Healing journey

Healing is holy, but it doesn’t have to be heavy.

Working with me as a trauma-informed coach, I will make room for all of you and all of your experience. We will go deep and we will go high—hitting all the notes of your sacred healing symphony.

We will make space for you in sacred stillness and in the dance breaks, in journals and ridiculous memes, in grief and glitter, and in tears and soulful shaynanigans. (Yes—shaynanigans.)

Because healing doesn’t just happen in silence, in the dark, and alone—let’s get that image out of your mind. It happens in rhythm, both in sound and movement, but most of all in the laughter that unbinds what grief left tangled.

If you’ve been craving a space where you don’t have to choose between depth and delight—
where your full humanity is welcomed—you’re in the right place.

Welcome.