When pain pushes hard and old patterns pull harder, I find myself tumbling back into the ruts carved by shame, criticism, and a lifelong soundtrack of Who do you think you are? This time, ankle surgery triggered the spiral—but what I found at the bottom wasn’t weakness. It was the strength to ask for help, the grace of being seen, and the relief of skiing beside people who carry flasks, laughter, and love. This is what it looks like to rewrite the route.

There are moments when happiness should come easily—when nostalgic conversations, candid pictures, and shared laughter should wrap us in warmth. But beneath it all, there’s always a low electrical hum—an undercurrent of anxiety and depression that refuses to let me fully exhale.

I know why.

Childhood trauma leaves deep, lasting imprints on the nervous system.

In 2018, my career took an unexpected turn when I encountered homophobia in the workplace for the first time. The impact lingered for six years, shaping a path marked by both resilience and reckoning.