I got out in 2007, almost 20 years ago. Those first few years were the hardest. Going through the holidays felt so heavy.
The guilt I felt sitting at the Thanksgiving table, knowing I was with my family and they were gone. I knew the devastation their families were going through.
I remember driving with my sister, and the country song Letters From Home came on. It was like someone punched me in the stomach. I started crying uncontrollably. I’ll never forget the look on my sister’s face. She looked at me and said, “What’s wrong with you?” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I went to the VA hospital. I told them everything I was feeling.
Walking into a building labeled MENTAL HEALTH didn’t feel healthy. Sitting there made me feel sick. Maybe I was, but it didn’t feel like that building was going to get me well. It felt like I was one step away from a padded room.
Appointment after appointment, the conversation always led to medication. Taking the medication made me feel like a zombie. Like I was awake, but not in my body. I told her.
She either lowered or increased the dose, or told me to give it time, which I did. But nothing changed. Maybe I just didn’t click with her, or the next three or four doctors, psychologists, or whatever they were. But it was the same every time. Not one of them took the time to really listen.
Not one appointment lasted longer than 20 minutes. The last straw came years ago.
Maybe it was incredibly rude, and I know she was just doing her job, but I took the pills out and dumped them all over her desk, and walked out. I was walking back to my car… talking to myself… No one is coming to save me.
After that, I tried everything I could find. Massage. Physical therapy. Chiropractors. Applied kinesiology. I was paying out of pocket, and still lost.
I was starting to lose hope. And then something shifted. I found an Osteopath in Mill Valley, CA. I booked my first session at $350 an hour... worth every penny.
For the first time, I felt like I was in the right place. Like someone actually understood what I was feeling.
After that first hour, I knew, I knew, I had found it.
I owe a lot to that first osteopath.
That session started this whole journey. For the first time, I didn’t feel crazy, I felt heard, seen, and understood, he talked to me about fascia, about my nervous system, I had no clue what those things were back then…but.
That one experience launched a rabbit hole I’ve never climbed out of.
I started reading everything I could get my hands on: Dr. Andrew Taylor Still, on Dr. Ida Rolf’s work on structure and gravity. Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers by Dr. Robert Sapolsky. Then I found Thomas Myers and Anatomy Trains.
That journey, built out of desperation, curiosity, and stubbornness, opened up a new reality for me.
After all these years working with the human body, I can say with conviction: PTSD lives in the body. It settles into our fascia. It hides in our muscles. It builds up in the stomach, the upper shoulders, the jaw, the neck.
It doesn’t just show up in thoughts, it shows up in bracing, clenching, tension, and chronic pain.
The program I've created didn’t come from textbooks, it came from experience. I built it from the ground up, drawing from the work of brilliant minds, but shaping it through years of hands-on teaching, trial, and lived reality.
And now, after all this time, the science is finally starting to catch up, validating what we’ve seen and felt in our own bodies and in the bodies of the Veterans I serve.
Founder of Service Connected Wellness
A Message From Our Founder
Our Fascia-Based Approach
Tools, education, and self-bodywork training designed for Veterans, their families, and the organizations that support them.
Individuals
Personalized instruction focused on your specific body, pain patterns, and strategies to support your body and long-term nervous system health.
Organizations & Non-profits
We bring self-bodywork to Veteran organizations through both (in-person and online) that teach tools for pain relief.