I was raised by a Special Forces father.
From a young age, I watched how trauma could eat away at a brilliant, capable man.

At 17, I joined the Air Force.
I graduated from elite survival and resistance training and was deployed with the most active squadron in the military.

But during a visit home, I was in a boating accident.
Clinically dead for minutes.
Paralyzed from the neck down.

I was 19 years old when doctors told me I’d never walk again.

That moment broke something open in me.
Not just my body — but my belief in limits.

My physical therapist introduced me to yoga and breathwork. I felt bliss and sensation again.
That breath was my first step toward healing.

Two years later, I was walking with a cane.
But physically recovering was only the beginning.

Seven months later, I walked again.
This time, with clarity that wouldn’t leave.

I weaned myself off drugs with movement and breath, trained in yoga, and studied ancient healing systems.

Just as I began rebuilding…
My father took his own life.

Grief came in waves. But this time, I had tools.
I used breath, neuroplasticity, and meditation to move through it.

Then came cancer.
Then a head-on car crash that left me unable to walk — again.

I meditated so deeply in the hospital I scared the staff.
But I knew what I was doing. I was regulating, rewiring, remembering.