Could childhood experiences be affecting your health?

The fruit is there. All winter long, red berries cling to the bare branches. Signs of a fertile season of growth from the past year. But between the clumps of berries are barren spots of brown branches. They looked dead. They felt dead. Robins feasted on the berries. Squirrels played in the branches too — consuming the tree without giving back, taking advantage of it while the harsh winter winds blew and the ground was covered in a blanket of snow. Spring came early this year, and with it, tiny green knobs that turned into lime green leaves. Almost hidden buds spoke of white flowers that are coming. It occurred to me that sometimes our healing journey is like that tree. We clean up our diet and prioritize sleep. We start the work of unpacking trauma and acknowledging our dysregulated nervous system. We set boundaries and say no. We embrace life-giving activities and remember to laugh and rest when work is still unfinished. Our mood starts to calm and our energy begins to return. We review test results, link the patterns to how we feel, and take the supplements. We feel hopeful, even if the progress seems slower than we want. This is last year's fruit. But then life happens. Unexpected crisis. A child with extra needs. Parents with failing health. An unplanned financial burden. In the midst of crisis, you find yourself trying to just survive. You don't have time to eat, let alone get a healthy meal on the table for your family. Responsibilities and demands crowd against each other, and you fear your boundaries are slipping out of your grasp. Your chest feels heavy, and the anxiety that has been improving threatens to return. Or maybe it doesn't seem that major. Maybe it's even something you have looked forward to — an anticipated vacation, a milestone birthday party, a girls' night out. We indulge in extra dessert and then feel guilty and bloated, so we skip the workout or supplements the next day. We feel sluggish and tired, so we consume extra sugar. More guilt. We feel like we have just wasted the last three months of effort and believe we are back to where we started, or even worse. I hear the discouragement — and even the shame — in my clients' voices when they speak of how life has derailed their efforts. They feel that they have failed. But they haven't. You are stepping onto the barren branch. But the fruit of your hard work and dedication is still there. And even though you feel like you are spiraling backward, know that this is a season. The fruit of the past season will help carry you through as you establish new rhythms in this one. They won't look like last season's. You may even have to let go of some of your ideals during this hard season — but it will produce new buds and tiny leaves. You aren't going backward. You are sitting between last year's berries and this year's flowers.

By American standards, I am short. Petite is the culturally acceptable way to describe me. I like to say I am "vertically challenged." As a kid, I tried to defy the Bible verse in Matthew 6:27 that says we can't add an inch to our height by thinking about it. Most of the time, my short stature doesn't bother me, but sometimes I get tired of grabbing a stool or climbing on a chair to reach something up high or to change a light bulb. My short stature is not my only limitation. I could give you an entire list! But I have needed to discern between the limitations God has allowed that bring Him glory (2 Corinthians 12:6-10) and the limitations He is calling me out of my apathy to fix. There are highly recommended resources like Sara Hagerty's book, The Gift of Limitations, that encourage a deeper trust in God when limitations butt in front of our dreams and expectations. Our surrender to God in these moments — embracing His goodness in the limitations — is a form of worship that sometimes only the angels behold. In other instances, our limitations are a wake-up call that something needs to change. Sometimes the apathy to change is simply overwhelm. We know we need to change, but we don't know where to start. We are paralyzed by the overwhelming need to change everything. Now. If this is you, take heart. You are not alone. This is the weary cry of many of the women who reach out to me for help. They feel they are spiraling under the weight of fatigue, irritability, anxiety, and hormone concerns. They feel shame in their interactions with their children, spouse, or those closest to them. These limitations we do not have to surrender to. The first step is sharing with someone you trust. Satan loves to shame women into isolation as they struggle with the limitations of their physical health and emotions. He wants you to believe that you are the only Christian woman, mom, wife, daughter, friend, employee, _________ (you fill in the blank) who struggles with physical limitations. And that couldn't be further from the truth. I can attest to it every time I talk with a client. That is why I prioritize community within my signature program for women, Wholeness Restored. I want them to see that their limitations are not wholly unique to them. After sharing with someone, seek advice on next steps to address your health and the limitations stemming from it. Are your hormones imbalanced? Are you consuming too much caffeine? Are you numbing by scrolling? Are you going to bed each night but not getting restorative sleep? Are your cortisol levels high and your adrenal glands worn down from chronic stress or past trauma? Is your thyroid underperforming? Are you stuck in fight, flight, or freeze? A qualified practitioner can help you discover the underlying root causes of the limitations that are getting in the way of God's calling for your life. Don't give in to limitations that leave you surviving instead of thriving. But for those limitations God has allowed in your life, lean into God's promised sufficiency — like the Apostle Paul — instead of cultural expectations. He can do incredible work with your limitations and mine.

She was an outcast—shamed and unaccepted by society. I don’t know her name, but those who did knew to avoid her. She was penniless, alone, and had almost given up hope. She had tried everything, endured the shame, and nothing had changed. It wasn’t the illness or the financial destitution that was soul-crushing. It was the isolation. She was alone. There was no one she could relate to. Survival and shame kept her silent. We can’t relate to the woman in Mark 5 with the issue of blood. Or can we? How often have you felt isolated in your struggle with overwhelm, anxiety, and irritability? How often have you compared yourself to other women who seem so strong and competent—the woman who wears something other than yoga pants, has well-behaved children, is rarely late, and volunteers wherever she is needed? She has energy, a ready smile, and seems organized. “What’s wrong with me?” you might wonder. Any hint of vulnerability dies on your lips as you compare. You withdraw in shame. I believe isolation in our physical and emotional struggles is one of Satan’s greatest tactics used against Christian women. He doesn’t want us to know that healing is available—or that we are not alone. We laugh off PMS with our friends but silently feel shame and dread as we consider our behavior during those days each month. We excuse our anxiety as worrying too much and quietly feel ashamed that we can’t trust God more. We listen as a friend brags about getting by on very little sleep because she has too much to do, and we feel shame because we can’t overcome our fatigue to become more productive. Satan loves to feed us lies and delights in our shame. But Jesus called the bleeding woman “daughter.” He broke through the shame and invited her back into community. She felt known and loved by Jesus. He called her daughter before He pronounced her healed. If you feel isolated in your health concerns—convinced that your mood, fatigue, and overwhelm are the result of a character flaw or a failure to live up to God’s calling—I encourage you to reach out for healing. Maybe it has been twelve long years for you, too, and you are beyond discouraged. Maybe you can put on a good show in public, but your family receives the brunt of your fatigue and irritability. You are not alone in your struggles. Don’t let Satan convince you otherwise. Healing will not be complete this side of heaven, but there are often more solutions and root causes to our health concerns than what we have been offered. Your symptoms are not a condemning voice of failure in motherhood, marriage, or vocation. They are your body speaking—trying to get your attention because it needs support and nurturing. The woman pushed through the crowds that day despite her shame. She still believed healing was possible. Are you willing to push beyond your shame and isolation to continue seeking healing as well?

A few weeks ago, we experienced unseasonably warm temperatures. As I walked about the landscape, I noticed green shoots that should not have unearthed themselves yet. The blanket of mulch intended to keep the spring bulbs tucked safely underground until the appropriate time was no match for the mild breezes and bright sun. With the tip of my shoe, I gently pushed some mulch over the tender shoots. I knew the harsh temperatures and snow forecasted for the weekend were coming, and the tiny hyacinths weren’t ready for that. Despite my silent admonition to the bulbs to stay underground a bit longer, I found daffodils pushing their green tips through the mulch the very next day. I stared at those persistent green shoots and thought about how the nervous system heals. If you have experienced trauma or lived with chronic stress, your nervous system can become stuck in fight, flight, freeze, or shutdown. Without even realizing it, life becomes more about surviving than thriving. Emotions exist on a narrow spectrum—either volatile or nearly nonexistent. We rush through our days because the adrenaline of fight-or-flight demands it, or we push ourselves relentlessly, forcing ourselves forward while stuck in freeze or shutdown. We’ve learned how to cope, but we cannot heal in this state. Joy has long since disappeared, and peace feels out of reach. But as you begin healing and nurturing your nervous system, joy will return. I have experienced this myself. Subconsciously, you may want to push this unfamiliar feeling back down. For a long time, there hasn’t been the capacity to feel anything beyond stress and overwhelm—or numbness. There is no time to dance in the rain or shout a hallelujah. Life feels too hard and too busy. Joy that emerges through healing is like my spring bulbs. It is going to bubble up anyway. It may feel unfamiliar or even frightening. Perhaps you feel guilty—others are suffering right now. Perhaps you fear that any goodness will be followed by something bad. Or maybe you believe you don’t deserve to feel joy. Whatever intimidation you feel around joy, I invite you to take it to Jesus. Phylicia Masonheimer, in a blog post , reminds us not to fear the abundance of God. This is not prosperity gospel. We live in an imperfect, broken world where suffering, disease, and evil still occur. But Jesus is the giver of joy. Out of His abundance, He offers us “the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit” ( Isaiah 61:3 ). Physical healing often revives emotions, and emotional healing often brings physical relief. So the next time you feel a hint of joy, thank the Lord for the reminder of healing after a hard and difficult season. Smile widely. Notice how your body sighs with relief and contentment. It may be fleeting, gone in a moment. Embrace it anyway, and don’t be surprised if tears fill your eyes. Tears release the stress hormone cortisol as your nervous system steps out of fight, flight, freeze, or shutdown and into calm—alongside joy. And if joy feels as far away as the moon right now, I encourage you to lament your pain with Jesus. He is “close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” ( Psalm 34:18 ). And in your lamenting, you too are releasing cortisol, allowing your body to continue its healing process.

Last week, I shared how anxiety often isn’t random or irrational—it’s communication. A signal from the body asking us to pay attention. While we are identifying root causes, waiting on test results, and implementing lifestyle changes, there is something powerful and often undervalued that can move the needle now: breathing. It’s something I’ve used for years when anxiety unexpectedly surfaces. Breath begins at the beginning—in the first verses of Genesis. The “Spirit of God” is the same word (Ruah) as “breath.” God used His breath to speak order out of chaos and then, in the next chapter, to breathe life into dust-turned man. Breath characterizes life. We take breaths all day long, whether or not we are thinking about it. Justin Whitmill Early, in his book The Body Teaches the Soul, delves into the emotional impact of breathing. He explains that we take an average of 20,000 breaths a day, processing about 4,000 gallons of air. The number of molecules involved in just a single breath is somewhere around 25 sextillion molecules—that is twenty-five with twenty-one zeroes added. Breathing, a function of the autonomic nervous system, stimulates the vagus nerve—the portal that affects the rest of the body. Slowed, intentional breathing sends a message to the brain and body to calm down. We have amazing control over our bodies through our breath. Learning to breathe intentionally when we feel anxious is a way to steward our bodies as a temple of God. There are several different methods for intentional breathing. Here are three simple options: 1. Belly Breathing Start with this one first. When we are anxious, we tend to breathe very shallowly. Breathing deeply into our bellies helps oxygenate our blood and calm the body. You may want to practice this lying down. Place one hand on your stomach and one on your chest. Slowly inhale and exhale. Notice which hand moves. The goal is for the hand on your stomach to rise and fall while the hand on your chest stays still. If this feels awkward, that’s okay—try a few rounds and return to it later. 2. Box Breathing Breathe in cadence: 4–4–4–4. Inhale for four. Hold for four. Exhale for four. Hold for four. Repeat. 3. Pursed Lip Breathing Inhale through the nose for two. Slowly exhale through pursed lips for four. Think about blowing out a candle—slow, steady, and controlled. Repeat. Breathing is not Eastern mysticism. It is part of God’s intricate design of the human nervous system. He created our bodies to respond to intentional breathing to slow anxious thoughts. Practice deep breathing for three to five minutes once per day, gradually increasing to five to seven minutes, and adding additional minutes as needed throughout your day. Studies consistently show benefits for mental and emotional health. If you want to take this a step further, you can incorporate breath prayers during your breathing practice. Any short phrase may work, but I often use the 23rd Psalm: Inhale – “The Lord is my shepherd.” Exhale – “I shall not want.” Deep breathing will not magically make anxiety disappear. But slowing down to breathe and talk to the Lord helps us reorient around why our body and mind feel anxious—and gives us the space to take the next step toward healing.

For the person dealing with anxiety, all the well-meaning (and sometimes shaming) suggestions can seem trite and overly simplistic—and for good reason. Anxiety is multifaceted and colored with nuance. Anxiety has always been my enemy, but recently I have begun seeing portions of it as my friend. A friend that I avoid and even shun, but one that persistently whispers and even screams at me. It wants my attention so it can warn me of perceived danger. It speaks through agitation, insomnia, stomachaches, heart palpitations, racing thoughts, and restlessness. I try to drown out the voice with distraction or noise, but it is still there. Here’s the thing—it quiets down when I start listening. When I pay attention to why my thoughts are racing and why I can’t sleep, I often discover a deeper need beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s my present circumstances—an unexpected phone call or a stressful situation I’m faced with. Other times, I’m overstimulated by my environment and technology, or I haven’t eaten enough protein, and I am dehydrated. It may also be a nagging fear or a chronically challenging relationship. It is my job to notice how my body is speaking and then determine what it is trying to tell me. Unfortunately, circumstances alone aren’t the only cause of anxiety. Genetic factors, low blood sugar, nutrient deficiencies, elevated cortisol, poor gut health, trauma, chronic stress, insufficient sleep, and too much caffeine and sugar can also contribute. So, a one-size-fits-all approach rarely works. There are many factors to consider—and this is exactly how I approach anxiety inside my Wholeness Restored Program .  But insight alone isn’t always enough in the moment—especially when anxiety shows up unexpectedly. Next week, I want to share one simple, God-designed tool I teach my clients early on—something you can use right away while you’re sorting through root causes and making deeper changes.

Her voice was calm and gentle, but her words still packed a punch. “Rachel, your perfectionism is the result of you trying to control your external circumstances to manage your internal agitation.” Ouch. She was right—but I didn’t like the truth. Was I really doing that? I was. Once I admitted it, I could see it so clearly. The perfectionism I had always struggled with wasn’t really about being perfect; it was about trying to feel okay inside. The more unsettled I felt internally, the more I tried to control my environment. And when I couldn’t control it, I numbed myself to it. Some of you can relate to what I’m saying. Others may feel baffled by my confession. But if you’re baffled, it’s likely not because the pattern is unfamiliar—only that my example doesn’t mirror yours. You, too, are probably making choices based on the intensity of your environment in an effort to regulate what’s happening inside of you. Let me explain further. Our external environment—the life we live—is full of constant alerts, noise, and unpredictable demands. We can’t escape it. Technology, beginning with our phones and watches. Overloaded calendars that keep us running nonstop. The needs and demands of our children—or a boss who always expects more. Can you feel the tension in your body just thinking about it? This constant stimulation leads to internal agitation and the familiar question: Why can’t I calm down? Here’s the thing. We can’t escape every part of life that feels overwhelming. But we can choose to limit the overstimulation that contributes to the overwhelm. We can choose to create rhythms that establish a foundation for healing. Often, a sense of calm comes from consistent, small signals of safety—not big, dramatic overhauls. We can add white space to our calendars by saying no more often and intentionally setting aside time to be at home—or wherever allows you to take a deep breath and drop your shoulders in relief. We can silence our phones and take off our watches for an hour at a time to be fully present with those we love or to work without distraction. The world will wait. We can intentionally step away from screens and read a paper book, play a board game, or take a walk outside in nature. We can turn off the podcasts, audiobooks, or background television and become comfortable with silence again. We can reach for protein and produce instead of caffeine and sugar. In the quiet and the slowness, we begin to notice how our insides are speaking to us. Often, the internal angst that feels so uncomfortable is simply your body trying to get your attention. It may feel awkward—or even alarming at first—to fully feel what’s going on inside, but as you listen and respond, the emotional chatter begins to settle. It’s very difficult to calm anxious thoughts when our lifestyle continually feeds racing thoughts and unsettled feelings. That’s why I talk so much about lifestyle habits inside Wholeness Restored. We don’t change everything at once. Slowly, incrementally, we make changes that breathe life back into us. The chaos we sense all around us requires a counter-cultural approach to stilling the chaos within us. I had to face the perfectionistic habits I was using to manage the noise inside of me. Trying to control my circumstances perfectly would never alleviate the apprehension I felt, because the moment something became imperfect, my anxiety returned. It was an impossible fix—and I was trapped in it. Instead, I learned to slow down enough to notice the sensations in my body. I chose to eat well and prioritize extra sleep. I turned off my phone and computer and stopped numbing the discomfort I felt. I allowed myself to be fully present with my emotions. And as I did, they began to diminish. And the biggest difference?  I no longer felt as overwhelmed—by my external environment or my internal world.

It started as just a tickle in my throat when I woke up early on a January Sunday morning. I recognized the familiar signs of a cold, so I made wise choices. I stayed home from church. I drank steaming mugs of tea and rested. On Monday, I worked from home and met with clients virtually. My symptoms weren’t severe, but I wanted to be smart. By Tuesday, the tickle had settled into my voice. And then Wednesday morning came—with a choice. I could reschedule my appointments… or I could push through, suppress my cough, and force my voice to work. I wish I could tell you I chose well. Instead, I pushed through. I didn’t want to disappoint my clients, and after all, I wasn’t that sick. By Wednesday evening, I had no voice—and I felt much worse overall. It took several more days to fully realize how inflamed and irritated my voice box had become because I used it when it needed rest. It’s now February, and my voice still isn’t completely back to normal. Maybe you can’t relate to losing your voice quite like that—but I’m willing to bet you can relate to pushing yourself when you shouldn’t. An overloaded calendar that makes your head spin. Children who depend on you. Aging parents who need you. Expectations from friends, church, or school responsibilities. You feel guilty saying no. Selfish if you slow down. Frustrated because it seems like everyone expects more than you can give. Or maybe you know you should stop pushing—but the alternative feels scary. Add to that the emotional weight of everything happening around you. The constant stream of discouraging news. Social media is urging you to care deeply—and act immediately. Friends and family walking through hard seasons. It all becomes too much. You feel tired, overwhelmed, irritable, and anxious. What’s really happening is this: you are overstimulated by constant demands and expectations, and it’s taking a toll on your body and emotions. Reducing overstimulation and regulating your nervous system doesn’t happen through white-knuckling. It begins with admitting that something has to change. As Aundi Kolber writes in Try Softer : “We ‘white-knuckle’ when we consciously or unconsciously ignore internal warning signs from our minds and bodies to cope with situations that are overwhelming or disturbing. Often we learn to overfunction not out of choice but as a way to survive. This approach then carries over into everyday life because we don’t know a different way.” An overstimulated nervous system doesn’t need more discipline—it needs signals of safety. That may look like prioritizing what God has truly called you to and letting go of the rest—even when someone is disappointed. It may mean choosing quiet over constant noise. Reducing scrolling and taking a walk instead. Going to bed instead of finishing one more task. Or eating more protein instead of sugar to support steadier energy and clearer thinking. Pushing through often worsens anxiety, sleep issues, and fatigue. I pushed through—and lost my voice entirely. Sometimes our lingering health struggles don’t improve until we slow down enough to allow our bodies to regulate and return to a place of calm, peace, and presence. Throughout Scripture, we see God establish rhythms of work and rest—creating space to breathe, recover, and trust Him with our limits. Hustle culture rejects limitation. God invites us to honor it. Regulation through slowing down isn’t indulgence. It’s an acknowledgment of our humanity. And it opens the door to healing anxiety, fatigue, and irritability that quietly choke our peace. This week, I invite you to choose just one thing that gives your nervous system permission to begin regulating. Maybe it’s sitting down for a meal without multitasking. Going to bed an hour earlier. Waking up 15 minutes earlier for quiet before the house stirs. Putting down your phone and going for a walk—even in the cold. Playing a game with your kids. Choose one small way to go against the busyness that constantly pulls you out of regulation. If you’d like to learn more about Wholeness Restored —a countercultural, supportive way to heal your body—I invite you to schedule a free introductory call with me. Wholeness Restored isn’t another program to push through or check off your list. It’s a guided process of learning how to regulate your body so you can thrive and includes important testing to get to the root of imbalances, sustainable lifestyle suggestions, nutrient recommendations, and community support so you can restore peace, vibrancy, and the ability to feel present with those you love.

I love my family. I love when we’re all together—spanning generations from almost 90 years old down to almost 2. The adults are discussing. The teens are debating. The children are collaborating. A small child is probably crying, and another (or two… or three) is running around squealing with delight. It. Is. Loud. Aside from the brief pause for a meal-time prayer, it never really quiets down. And honestly? I love it all. And still… I can go home feeling completely overstimulated by the commotion. Here’s what I’ve noticed, though: my environment—my world (and likely yours too)—is full of overstimulation. And because it’s so constant, I often don’t realize how much it’s affecting me until it feels exaggerated or overwhelming. Without even being aware of it, we live immersed in constant stimulation. The phone in our hand. The screens in front of us. The pressure to stay productive or keep our calendars full. The endless stream of information. The background noise. The bright lights. All of it quietly adds up. And often, that overstimulation doesn’t show up as something obvious. It shows up internally. Anxiety. Irritability. Exhaustion. An inability to settle. We feel uneasy without our phones nearby. Silence feels uncomfortable—even disconcerting. And we don’t always know why. God didn’t create us to live this way. He didn’t design our nervous systems to constantly react to stimulation without pause or rest. We are living in a world our nervous systems were never designed for. Chronic overstimulation keeps the body in a constant “on” state. This isn’t a character flaw or a lack of discipline—it’s a biological and emotional response. When the input feels relentless, the body shifts into fight-or-flight… or freezes because there’s no clear escape. God designed us for rhythms, limits, and rest. Days and nights. Seasons. Patterns of work and restoration. These rhythms were meant to support our bodies, not exhaust them. But modern culture—and technology in particular—has learned how to override them. This is why intentional slowing isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.  So, here’s a simple invitation—For just one day, notice what overstimulates you. Notice the sounds, the screens, the pace, the internal pressure. Simply notice how your body responds. That awareness alone is a powerful first step. We live in a culture that capitalizes on overstimulation, so it’s understandable if you feel overwhelmed—or even trapped—when you think about how to change this. But regulation doesn’t mean rejecting modern life. Regulation means using technology for your benefit without being controlled by it. It means being able to quiet your mind when you go to bed. It means finding enjoyment in slower moments—playing a board game, working on a puzzle, reading a paper book—without reaching for something more stimulating. It means being present with the people you love without the constant pull to multitask. If you’re ready to explore what being present could look like for you—and how to calm the internal buzzing that’s become a constant companion—I invite you to book a free 45-minute introductory call to learn more about Wholeness Restored . Wholeness Restored is not a DIY, one-size-fits-all program. It’s a personalized, supportive healing journey—designed to help you understand your body, regulate your nervous system, and move back toward peace and vibrancy with guidance and support. You don’t have to figure this out alone.