In 2021, Rebecca was a founder and new mother when a vaccine injury disrupted her autonomic nervous system overnight. She couldn't sleep, couldn't function, could barely leave her room. And it hit at the worst possible moment — she had goals, a life she was building, and a second child she wanted. Suddenly she was trying to get well enough to pursue IVF without destabilising a recovery that was already fragile, knowing the process might make her sicker, and somehow holding all of that at once.

What followed was a long, non-linear recovery. She figured out that healing is multidisciplinary — physical, mental, spiritual, all at once. TMS and the mind-body connection gave her agency when nothing else had. Breathwork, elimination protocols, Western and Eastern medicine in parallel. But the thing she'd tell anyone at the start is self-compassion — not as a nice idea but as the actual foundation everything else has to be built on. She came back slowly. And she believes post-traumatic growth is real — the hard path doesn't just end in recovery, it ends in a version of you that couldn't have existed without it.

Rebecca is not a therapist or medical professional. This is peer support from someone who has been through it.

Dave spent 42 years without a diagnosis. In that time he tried medications that made things worse, developed an addiction as a coping mechanism, and experienced a full manic episode triggered by the wrong prescription.

He's now stable, correctly medicated, and using dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) that gave him somewhere to put the relationship strain. He knows what the wrong path looks like — and what it costs you before you find the right one.

For years, Jenny did everything right — mindset work, affirmations, abundance thinking. And she believed it. But her body told a different story. The patterns kept repeating. The stress kept building. The breakthroughs stayed short-lived.

What changed was understanding that the nervous system is a blueprint of your past — and no amount of thinking can override what it hasn't felt as safe yet. She now helps people work with their system rather than against it.

Ellen's mom was bed-bound for a year and a half before she died. Ellen was the one showing up — learning how to give physical care, doing things she never imagined doing — while also raising her own kids and holding down a demanding senior job. There was no pause button. She had to be present for everyone at once, and she did it without numbing out. No alcohol, no checking out — just showing up raw.

A work coach she trusted told her something that stuck: "They care about you, but they can't give you a pass forever. You have to behave like a professional." It was exactly what she needed to hear. She stopped bringing grief to work and started taking it on walks — first talking to her mom out loud, then weaning off podcasts, then just listening. Birds, wind, silence. It became a practice. She's still in it, still figuring it out. If your world didn't stop when someone you loved was dying, she gets that particular kind of exhausting.