I'm SO excited to share that we’ve officially hit our first 10 members in the community! 🎊 This might seem like a small number to some, but to me, it’s the beginning of something powerful. Women supporting women, healing together, and showing up for one another in a space that's truly unique. 💛 To keep the energy going… I’ve decided to do a giveaway for EVERY member once we reach 100 members! Yep! All 100 of you will receive something special as a thank-you for helping build this from the ground up 💌✨ As we grow, we’ll unlock even more: 🌟 Exclusive opportunities 🤝 Collaborations 🎁 Fun giveaways…and so much more to come! Want to help us get there faster? ✨ Download the Skool app (makes it super easy to stay connected!) ✨ Invite a girlfriend who could use this kind of support Let’s grow this healing sisterhood together. One real connection at a time.

Have you ever had an emotional moment while working out or trying to do something you used to be able to do with ease before your diagnosis? I’d love to hear how you navigated it. This space is safe for every version of you. Strong, hurting, hopeful, frustrated… all of it. 💛 Here's my most recent vulnerable moment... Despite the excruciating pain in my neck and shoulders, I showed up. I couldn’t lift my arms above my head, not even to hold a light weight. But my lower body felt okay, and I didn’t want to skip another training session (I had already missed a few days this week). The pain has been relentless for weeks now, and nothing seems to bring relief. For a long time, I didn’t think this pain was connected to my RA. But after my recent conversation with a former co-worker, I’ve started to see it differently. Now I believe the inflammation might be at the root of the pain, the limited range of motion, the numbness, the dull aches, all of it. So there I was, tears welling up, sitting on a box with 2lb dumbbells in my hands, struggling to raise them overhead for a tricep extension. My husband stood nearby, gently encouraging me to try without any weight. I felt bad. I didn’t want to take up his workout time so I told him I’d just sit this one out so he didn’t have to “babysit” me. Then my trainer came over. He already knew what was going on because he’s seen me struggle in past classes. Without judgment, he offered a new option: “Let’s skip that one. Try curls instead.” And then he said something that broke me open: “The hardest part is over. You walked through the door. The heaviest weight in here is the door, and you carried it. You’re an example to all the women in your community. Be strong for them.” And that’s when I cried. I did the curls. I did what I could. As a former athlete, it’s heartbreaking to feel weak, dependent, and limited. But at the same time, I’m deeply grateful for a husband who sees me, and a trainer who meets me with compassion when I need it most.