What three years, hundreds of people, and life on an island taught me
This house.
The one we moved into three years ago to start hosting retreats. The one we couldn't afford. The one that was too big for two people, according to the realtor.
The one my husband found at 3:30am because something woke him up and asked him to check Realtor.com — two things he never did. The one we decided was perfect and would spend the next twelve months finding enough furniture to fill.
The house that came alive while we were here.
What This House Held
Every retreat, something else would break. Our landlord constantly fixing and replacing the strangest things — roots growing through our sinks, appliances dying one by one. As if the house was shedding alongside us.
Hundreds of people found their healing inside these walls. They found their wounds and their higher selves. They left spirits and dark entities. They left tears and anger. They found their laughter and joy and even repressed sexuality. They found safety — many for the first time — and their partner again after years of disconnection.
They found deep friendships, countless connections, and softened hearts.
This house became a safe haven. For families who had hit hard times. For kids who were allowed to jump on couches and make pillow forts. For soul family gatherings and collaborative dinners. For the kind of medicine that doesn't come in a bottle — the medicine of connection to self and to each other. Many of us snuggling in a pile in the hottest room of the house simply because we wanted to be together.
What This House Witnessed
This is the house where I connected with my higher self and stepped more fully into my gifts. Where I deepened my marriage — only to be required to release it for reasons the Universe has yet to reveal. To build trust and safety and love for myself. To choose myself for once.
This is the house where some of our deepest wounds were on full display for the walls that wish they could talk. Where my lack of safety turned me into a monster to protect my younger self and hold the line on my truth for my current self.
It was the place my husband found himself in a way neither of us could have ever planned. He found his deepest truths and his biggest healing. And while both of us found more of ourselves, we began to disconnect.
This is the house where I loved the deepest and finally saw the woman in the mirror as my greatest lover and most significant supporter. Where I found beauty in myself for the first time. Where I lost some of my most significant relationships, only to replace them with people who showed me what unconditional really meant — because they were stepping into themselves at the same time. No competing. No comparing. Just rising together.
What This House Taught Me
This is the house where I learned to choose myself. Where I fell in love with the woman I became. Where I finally learned that others misunderstand my magic — only to see that I can be pure love, pure intentioned, and protected from those who would rather project than take responsibility.
This is the house where I made more money than I ever had in my career, only to be left with some of the hardest decisions of my life because I put my head in the sand pretending I didn't want to know.
This is the house I finally decorated for me. Bright colors and fun decor, not caring about validation from anyone — yet watching so many go back to their own homes and add color to their own spaces. Where my mother-in-law complimented me by sharing how "well-appointed" my home was because I really do think about others and care for them, making them feel more at home than they feel in their own homes.
This is the house where all of you is welcome to make yourself at home. Cozy — a word I used nine years ago to describe my future place, one that so many people have used to describe what they felt when they walked in. A word held in every detail: carpets to pillows, blankets to beds, bathroom towels to rugs.
The House That Was Alive
My wizard friend told me recently that the house was sad to see me go. That it had enjoyed me and all my retreats. That I need to be more careful with who I let into my spaces in the future. And that it didn't enjoy everyone who showed up.
This house reminds me of the one from Encanto — the one that was really alive. Isn't everything alive in some way? Everything has soul. Everything has spirit. So why not this house?
As I step into my next spaces — into a nomadic life where I will bring my presence into other people's homes — I have to remind myself: I'm the one who brought this house to life. I'm the one who is beyond grateful for everything I found here. Even the hardest moments.
This house is where I found myself. And I couldn't be more grateful.
The Emptiness Of This House
On Sunday, friends showed up to help me move what was left into storage. I gave or lent my friends my furniture and decor. We hosted a yard sale, then donated the rest. And I've realized how much this house means to me — but it's because I made it a home. It's because it was the first place I ever felt fully safe.
This house on a Orchid Island. Surrounded by water. In a place where the vibration is magic. Where my friends are powerful and the healing is potent.
Thank you to every single person who walked through the doors of this house. You taught me something about myself.
Thank you to this house for being a home, for showing us your magic, and for keeping us safe as we journeyed into ourselves. We will all miss you.
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Catch up on The Reclamation Series:
PHASE I: The Identity Detox
The Reclamation Begins - 3/19
The Siren Song vs The Soul's Song - 3/24
The Dragon Inside of Me - 4/1
The Painful Gift of Cracking - 4/5
The Old Dirt Road Just Off The Highway - 4/13
The Door of Possibility - 4/21
PHASE II: The Road Trip
The Free Fall - 5/4
The Anxiety Attack That Never Came - 5/11
The Woman in the Mirror - 5/21
The Art of the Darkness - 5/28
PHASE III: The Release