From Loss to Hope – My Journey to BodyTalk

I grew up on a small dairy farm in rural Alberta, where life was simple and full of wonder.

I thrived outdoors, feeling deeply connected to nature and the animals that surrounded me.

From a young age, I was a sensitive, caring heart, attuned to the world around me in quiet, thoughtful ways.

When I was four years old, I experienced trauma and loss when my little brother passed away in a tragic farm accident. It left a mark I wouldn’t fully understand until much later.

Life continued. I learned to feed and care for baby calves and eventually helped milk cows among the many chores on the farm.

Then changes came. I witnessed my dad struggle with depression. It was hard watching this happen—I felt so frustrated and helpless. At the time, my family didn’t talk about these things. Asking for medical help wasn’t considered acceptable for mental health.

I always had a big heart for children. I spent a year volunteering on the Navajo Reservation in Arizona with in an emergency shelter for children. That year tested me in many ways.

Life brought its share of ups and downs—joy and sadness, hope and disappointment.

As it does, opportunities came, and I said yes. I was curious and drawn to travel and adventure. These experiences took me to new places, where I found joy in making friends and meaningful connections.

Then suddenly, I was faced with another tragic farm accident—one that mirrored my past experience. This time, the outcome was different. This little boy, by some miracle, survived and fully recovered. A real life miracle.

But my brain told a different story.

I spiraled. The trauma pulled me under. About two weeks later, due to poor work performance and growing conflict, I quit my job—I simply couldn’t focus.

The days that followed were dark. I felt like a failure, with no desire to live. The joy I once knew had vanished, and any sense of purpose seemed out of reach.

Without a family doctor, someone suggested I visit a walk-in clinic. No real help was given—I was handed a box of tissues and offered a hug.

If I had any remaining trust in doctors, much of it faded then. They wouldn’t prescribe medication. I considered counseling, but I was hesitant.

After all, I had only witnessed the accident—shouldn’t I be fine? Shouldn’t I just get over it?

I tried looking for work, knowing I needed to stay busy. Eventually, I kept my hands occupied with crafts and some volunteer work. I also found moments of peace in the outdoors, spending time in nature and going for long walks.

Over time, I found some strength again—but I had built walls around myself. I no longer trusted people. I had changed. My spark was gone.

At the end of my rope, searching for answers and a glimmer of hope, I began looking into trauma therapies.

Was there anything out there that could truly help? I taught myself EFT tapping. It helped a little, but it didn’t touch the depth of the PTSD.

My mind felt like it was on fire. All of life’s hardest experiences kept rushing to the surface, one after another. Through it all, I kept praying for healing, but I was slowly losing hope.

I didn’t like who I had become.

Something had to change.

Then one day, someone close to me shared their experience with BodyTalk and how it had helped them—yes, even with trauma. What caught my attention most was the idea that the body has an innate ability to heal. And perhaps most relieving of all, this healing didn’t require me to retell my entire story.

Something within me felt hope.

By this time, I had moved provinces and had a job without benefits. “How would I pay for this?” I wondered.

A friend said,

“You only have one life—how do you want to live it?”

That stuck with me.

I searched for a local BodyTalk practitioner in my area, and booked my first session.

The first couple sessions are a blur. I felt so supported, held and believed in. I began to notice changes. I wanted to live again. The physical pain I’d been experiencing disappeared. My night sweats stopped. My spirit felt lighter. I felt hope, and I started believing in possibility.

Over time, even deeper healing occurred. My relationships improved. The PTSD lifted. My body softened. My mind relaxed. My connection with God deepened—and still grows to this day.

I am so thankful that I chose to book that first BodyTalk appointment.

I share my story in the hope that it brings light to yours. If you’re walking through darkness, please know that healing is possible—even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.

Don’t give up on yourself. There is more ahead. You are capable. You are worth fighting for.