This year marks a major milestone for me: one year since I started my journey into studying Holistic Nutrition. It’s a bit surreal to think I’m already a third of the way through. I have two years to go, though depending on how life moves (and how many times I have to re-read the same page), I could end up finishing sooner.
I chose an online program because, let’s be honest—I’m a mom first. I need to be there for my kids when they need me, and the ability to go at my own pace has been a lifesaver, though, ‘going at my own pace’ often looks like a lot of stops and starts. It’s been a year of eye-opening wonders, deep frustrations, and some very hard-earned lessons.
When the Textbook Becomes Your Life
Over the past two years, I’ve been drawn to learning more about perimenopause and menopause. That curiosity was part of what inspired me to dive deeper into holistic nutrition and become a coach—it wasn’t just about studying theory, it was about understanding my own journey and helping others understand theirs.
I remember going through the module on hormones and feeling like I wasn’t reading a textbook, but my own diary. Everything I was learning mirrored what I was experiencing in real time—the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
Being in the midst of these shifts, having the space to pause, observe, and learn felt like a gift. Seeing how our bodies can get out of sync—and realizing there are ways to gently support them—brought a sense of relief. It helped me feel more grounded, more in tune with myself, and more equipped to navigate the changes with clarity and care.
The Mind-Body Breakthrough
But as much as the physical science helped, the most profound moment of the year didn’t come from a chart or a supplement list. It happened during my Mind, Body, and Spirit module.
I had to complete an assignment and I shared my personal experience with Trigeminal Neuralgia (TN), and my instructor’s feedback on that assignment actually moved me to tears. She pointed out how, in the metaphysical framework of teachers like Louise Hay, facial nerve pain and inflammation can reflect deeply suppressed emotions—specifically anger connected to feeling hurt, rejected, or feeling shame.
The face represents our identity and how we present ourselves to the world. Inflammation there can suggest a silent inner conflict: the struggle between expressing our authentic feelings versus maintaining harmony. Reading that was spot on. I realized how much of my life I had spent staying quiet and putting everyone else’s peace above my own. It ignited a deeper passion in me and made me realize, more than ever, why I want to do this job. I want to help others uncover these same connections in their own lives—to show them that our bodies aren’t just ‘broken.’
The Brain Reboot
While my heart and soul were having these revelations, my brain was wading through another kind of challenge. Science was never my forte to begin with, and trying to work through biochemistry in the middle of a perimenopausal fog is a special kind of challenge. There are days when I’ll read a full page, get to the bottom, and realize I didn’t actually process a single word. My brain just… slides right off the information.
I’ve found myself reading the same paragraph four or five times, just waiting for my brain to “reboot” so the words finally stick. I won’t lie – when I opened my textbook to a full-page spread of the Periodic Table, I actually cringed. (Flashbacks to high school chemistry, anyone?)
Juggling the complexities of biochemistry while trying to remember the kids’ practice schedules and where I put my keys? Honestly, it’s a miracle I remember my own name some days. If you see me staring blankly into a corner, I’m not ‘finding my zen’—I’m just trying to remember if I already ate lunch or if that was just a dream. LOL!
The Big Vocabulary Heist
In 2024, my nerve pain got so bad that I finally had to do something I’d been avoiding: I started medication. My doctor picked what was supposed to be a “mild” option, but it still turned me into a total zombie. I wasn’t just “napping”—it felt like my entire system went offline. I basically passed out every day for the first week.
Even when I was awake, the brain fog made it hard to find the right words. I’d be in the middle of a sentence and completely lose my train of thought. It got to the point where my family and friends were basically playing a constant game of ‘fill-in-the-blanks’ for me.
Me: “Can someone pass me the… you know… the cold-box-thing with the milk?”
Kids: “The refrigerator, Mom. It’s called a refrigerator.”
I eventually had to stop the meds because I wasn’t even operating at half-capacity. I took about three months off to rest, taper off, and get myself back together.
So here I am—one year in. I’ve learned that healing isn’t just about the right protocol; it’s about the courage to look at the suppressed parts of ourselves and the patience to honour our bodies when they need rest.
Simply Salt & Soul
The Salt (The Science): My biggest takeaway this year is that the nervous system isn’t just a network of signals—it seems to reflect how much stress we’ve been carrying. When the body is in a constant “fight or flight” state, it tends to prioritize survival over restoration. In those moments, everything can feel more heightened and less settled, including sensations in the body. From what I’ve learned, it’s not always about adding more supplements or strategies. It’s also about creating conditions where the body can feel safe enough to shift out of that stress state. Supporting the nervous system in that way can help create space for the body to regulate more naturally over time.
The Soul (The Wellness): Practice “Unmasking.” When I notice discomfort in my body, I gently ask myself:“Is there something I’m not saying?” Sometimes, just giving my emotions a place to exist—whether that’s writing them down or simply acknowledging them—helps me feel a little less tense inside.
I’m learning that when I hold everything in, it can show up elsewhere in the body. Giving those feelings a voice feels like a way of making space again. I keep coming back to the idea that I can’t pour from an empty cup—and that includes my energy, my focus, and my capacity to show up for others. When I take a moment to listen inward, it feels like a small but meaningful way to come back to myself.