I’ve suffered enough to warrant a lifetime of wound-licking. Instead…I chose energy over agony and designed a (miraculously) symptom-free, medication-free life.

I was born in the ‘70s, when sequined disco balls, roller rinks, fruit roll ups, Jordache jeans and ABBA were all the rage.

I grew up Jewish — adopted into a family comprised of a lawyer who saw me like an Italian suit in his closet, a fragile mother who never spoke up and used alcohol to medicate her pain, and a physically and verbally abusive brother.

Divorce yanked the rusty silver spoon out of my mouth, tossing me into the not so loving arms of an abusive step-father and a drug dealing step-brother, surrounded by criminals who were in and out of prison. I grew up in the belly of the beast — my childhood was far from that of a Dancing Queen. It was a hot bed for a compromised immune system.

Suffice it to say: my home was not safe. I was offered my first hit of marijuana at age five. Going to school with a busted lip? Just another Monday. And instead of playdates with schoolmates, I helped my brother burglarize a Sizzler’s, stole food to survive and scrawled graffiti on walls.

When I needed an escape hatch, I crawled inside an empty refrigerator box and dreamed myself to safety.

It sounds like a maudlin after-school special.

It was my life.

And it only got worse.

I pummeled my way into a plum job at Prada, with all the trappings of “fashionable” success. I looked fabulous — but I was miserable. I’d built a glimmering mansion on top of a swamp. And it was sinking.

At age 24, my body went numb. A clairvoyant told me my aura was broken. A spinal surgeon told me I had multiple sclerosis, an autoimmune disorder. Turns out, they were both correct.

I was destined for paralysis. Wheelchairs, incontinence, monthly injections that triggered violent flus. I felt like an animal, caged in my own body. I hated life. I hated God. I couldn’t believe how much suffering had been heaped upon me.

I felt like I failed, was unworthy, a burden, a broken pile of rubble. A leaden sack of unfulfilled potential — unworthy of anything. To boot, my immune system was shot.

I could have killed myself. Just, disappeared.

Instead, I forgave myself. And everyone else.

It didn’t happen overnight. It was hard, and it certainly wasn’t simple.

When you choose to alchemize agony into acceptance + suffering into skill, magical corridors extend before you, unfolding towards the life you’ve always longed for. And you walk down it. One day at a time.

I still experience pain — I’m human, after all — but I’ve made peace with my past. Physical abuse, an incurable diagnosis, a string of tightly-concentrated deaths — they’re nothing to giggle about. But I’m no longer a caged animal. I’m no longer that frightened kid crouching inside an empty refrigerator box, praying for mom to come to her senses and rescue me from … existence.

I’ve activated my power. I’ve sharpened my skills. I’ve designed a life of purpose and clarity. As a coach, a catalyst for deep, healing catharsis and certified Anusara Yoga teacher, I help women who’ve experienced extraordinary trauma transform adversity into pure, vibrant energy.

If you feel like there’s no hope — like you’re broken beyond repair — or that nobody really understands what you’ve been through, consider me your street-smart soul-sister. I’m the best friend who’s been there — and there, and there — and who will never give up on your divine potential.

I’m there for you so you don’t have to ever feel alone again.

xo

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