Discover the Wonders of Red Light Therapy

Loss changes the way we connect. When you lose someone who mattered deeply, it’s not just grief you carry — it’s caution. You learn how fragile connection can be. How quickly life can change. And without realizing it, you start protecting your heart in quiet ways. I’ve noticed this in myself. After losing my mom, connection didn’t disappear — but it shifted. I wanted closeness, yet I was more careful. I listened differently. I loved differently. I noticed how easily the heart

One thing I know for sure: You can’t out-mindset a depleted body. We live in a culture that celebrates pushing through, powering up, and staying mentally strong — especially for people who lead teams, run businesses, support clients, and carry responsibility for others. And while mindset absolutely matters, it’s not the whole picture. Because when the body is depleted, no amount of positive thinking can fully compensate. Why This Matters More in Midlife (and Leadership) As we

Let’s have a real conversation. I work with leaders, clinic owners, wellness professionals, and high performers who are doing important work in the world. They care deeply. They show up consistently. They carry responsibility — for teams, clients, families, and communities. And yet, so many of them are quietly running on empty. Not burned out in the dramatic sense — just depleted enough that everything feels heavier than it should. What I’ve learned over years in the wellness

For a long time, I measured success by what I could build, hold together, and push through. I built businesses. I supported others. I raised a family. I showed up — often as the strong one. And while I’m deeply grateful for all of it, I’ve learned something important along the way: Success without fulfillment eventually feels empty. You can be accomplished, respected, productive — and still feel tired, disconnected, or quietly depleted. I know this because I’ve lived it. As I

My 20-minute light sessions have become part of my ritual in this in-between week —a grounding pause before I step into a new chapter. The light doesn’t erase the sadness. It doesn’t pretend everything is fine. But it helps my body feel safe enough to move forward. It brings calm, clarity, and softness when I need it most. It reminds me that healing isn’t linear —it’s layered. It’s lived. It’s carried. And it’s okay if the New Year brings a blend of joy, grief, excitemen

If you’re heading toward January carrying both memories and pain…both gratitude and grief…both dreams and fears…you are not alone. This season isn’t about reinventing yourself. It’s about honouring who you are becoming —shaped by love, strengthened by experience, softened by loss, and guided by the people who made you who you are. So here’s my wish for you (and for myself) as we move into the New Year: May we find moments of light. May we feel the presence of the people we m

I’m learning that moving toward a New Year isn’t about “leaving the past behind.” It’s about carrying it forward — gently, intentionally, lovingly. My mom is part of every plan I make. Every goal I set. Every act of courage I take. Every moment of healing I choose. Every time I show up for myself, my business, my people. She’s in all of it. So as I move from Christmas toward the New Year, here’s what I’m choosing to hold: 💫 1. Gratitude for the memories that made this C

There’s something uniquely tender about the days right after Christmas. The wrapping paper is gone. The gatherings have softened. The house feels a little quieter. The lights are still up, but they glow differently now — less about celebration, more about comfort. And the air carries this strange mix of exhaustion, gratitude, reflection, and anticipation… all at once. It’s the in-between — the gentle space between what was and what’s coming next. Normally, this stretch of day

Christmas was beautiful — messy, emotional, heartwarming, and heartbreaking all at once. Time with my dad, my brothers, and the puppies was exactly what I needed — grounding, familiar, comforting. We laughed more than I expected. We cried quietly when the memories hit. We told stories that brought her right back into the room. And now, in these quiet post-Christmas days, her absence hits in a different way. The big moments are over. The celebrations have passed. And wh

Christmas Eve has always carried a kind of magic —the glow of soft lights, the smell of familiar food, the gentle hum of holiday music in the background.But this year, that magic feels different — quieter, deeper, touched by both love and longing. Tonight, I’m spending Christmas Eve with my dad, my brothers, and the puppies —the whole crew, the whole heartbeat of our family. There is something grounding about being with the people who have known every chapter of your life — t

Grief doesn’t come with a handbook, especially during the holidays.But I’ve found small, meaningful ways to keep her close — ways that feel like continuing a conversation we never finished. ✨ 1. I sit with her memory during my 20 minutes of light I feel closest to her in stillness. When the red light glows around me, and the world becomes quiet, I talk to her. I tell her what’s happening in my life. I feel her pride. I hear her voice reminding me to take care of myself. I

There are moments during my red light sessions when the room goes quiet and I swear I can feel my mom with me. Not in a dramatic, movie-scene way — but in the subtle, familiar way she always showed up in my life. A presence. A warmth. A knowing. Sometimes it's like she’s sitting right beside me, legs crossed, giving me that classic “I’m not saying anything but I’m totally saying everything with my eyebrows” look. Sometimes I hear her voice in my head — the encouragement, the

I’ll be the first to say it: red light therapy doesn’t mend a broken heart — at least not in the way people imagine. It doesn’t erase memories, silence the grief, or magically make the holidays easier. That kind of healing is sacred, slow, and very human. But what PBM has  become for me…is a calm, warm, non-judgmental space where my body can settle, my emotions can breathe, and my nervous system can catch up to the reality of my life. I didn’t expect that. Not at all. ✨ It c

My mom loved the holidays in that classic “I’m not doing anything special” way — while somehow making everything magical. She loved the twinkle lights, the smell of fresh baking, the warmth of people gathering. She loved the chaos too, even though she’d roll her eyes at it. If something burned, if someone was late, if wrapping paper ended up everywhere… she secretly thrived in it. And this year… she’s not here. And that absence is loud. Grief doesn’t march in with a megaphon

December hits differently after you lose someone you love. The lights are brighter, the music is louder, the decorations seem extra… extra. But inside? Everything feels a little softer, a little heavier, a little dimmer — like your heart is moving through the month with the lights turned down low. The holidays have their own rhythm: the gatherings, the traditions, the sparkle everywhere you look. But when grief enters the room, it changes the beat. Suddenly, the sounds o

Let’s talk about a hot topic. Literally. I hear it all the time: “Oh yeah, I’ve done red light therapy — I sat in an infrared sauna once.” 🙃 Deep breath. While both experiences involve warmth and light, saying they’re the same is like saying a steam room and a laser facial are interchangeable. They’re not. So let’s break it down — with love, truth, and a healthy dose of CELLebrate sass. 🔥 First, What’s an Infrared Sauna? An infrared sauna uses far-infrared wavelengths  (mos

Let’s get this one out of the way, shall we? “Isn’t red light therapy just for pro athletes and Hollywood types?” You know — people with private chefs, personal cryo chambers, and collagen smoothies flown in from a sacred mountain in Peru? NOPE. Let me say it louder for the folks in the back: Red light therapy is for everyone with cells . 🧠 Where the Myth Comes From Yes, red light therapy has been seen all over: NFL locker rooms Biohacker podcasts Skincare commercials with a

I need to say this loud and clear: Not all red light is created equal. And if you take one thing from this post, let it be this: Your healing deserves better than a light bulb from a hardware store. 🧠 The Big Misconception There’s a growing wave of people buying basic red light lamps, plugging them in beside their bed, and assuming they’re getting the same benefits as clinical-grade photobiomodulation (PBM). I get it — the word “light”  makes it sound simple.But the truth?

“I didn’t feel anything. Is that… bad?” This is hands-down one of the most common questions I hear from first-timers. And I get it. We live in a world of instant feedback — push a button, get a notification. Sip a coffee, get a jolt. Watch a sad movie, cry your face off. 😭 So naturally, when you lie down under a red light panel and don’t feel your body levitate or hear angelic harps… you wonder: “Wait. Is anything even happening?” Short answer? YES. Longer answer? Heck yes —

“Isn’t that just a trend?” I’ve been asked this more times than I’ve accidentally worn mismatched socks to the studio (and that’s saying something). And look — I get it. Red Light Therapy (or Photobiomodulation  if you’re feeling fancy) is suddenly everywhere . You’ve seen it in spas, on TikTok, and probably in a celebrity’s basement gym. It’s glowing (literally) in Instagram stories and lighting up magazine headlines like it just discovered fire. But here’s what most people