For more than seven years, my world grew smaller and smaller.
I had been diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease and co-infections, treated for heavy metals, mold toxicity, and adrenal fatigue. By the time I found DNRS, I had been through countless doctors, treatments, and protocols — chasing symptoms and answers, spending well over $100,000, and still watching my life slip away.
What made it especially hard was how much I had lost without fully realizing it.
When Everyday Life Became Overwhelming
In the beginning, I couldn’t tolerate sound or light. I spent most of my time alone in a dark room, often confined to bed. Simple tasks like showering, making meals, or walking to the bathroom felt overwhelming. The fatigue was crushing, and the brain fog made it difficult to think clearly or feel like myself.
I stopped driving. I couldn’t be alone for long stretches of time. When my husband was away at work, I hired college students to sit with me because eight hours alone didn’t feel safe.
Pain wasn’t my biggest symptom — it was the severe fatigue, neurological overwhelm, and cognitive shutdown that took everything from me.
The Perfect Storm
Looking back, I can see how much I had been pushing through for years.
My husband and I were international teachers, living in Kuwait for eight years and then Morocco. For five years straight, we moved to a new country or state every year. At the time, I thought it was exciting, an adventure. But in hindsight, I can see how deeply I had neglected my body and ignored its signals.
Then my dad passed away while we were living in Morocco. I didn’t know how to process that grief. I shoved it down and kept going.
When we returned to the U.S., I was teaching full-time, renovating a house, and dealing with ongoing health issues. Everything compounded until my nervous system simply couldn’t handle stress anymore. I loved my job, but I had to stop working. I noticed I was reacting to stress in ways I never had before… and I didn’t have tools to cope.
Discovering DNRS and Missing a Key Piece
A friend told me about DNRS, and I completed the training. I felt hopeful, like I finally had the tools. But I didn’t fully implement all the pillars. The visualizations felt hard, so I pivoted toward somatic work and body-based therapies, thinking I could heal that way instead.
I saw marginal improvement, but I wasn’t getting my life back.
Still, I kept watching recovery stories from people who had healed, people who were living again. I remember thinking, I want this to be me someday.
Going All In
In the fall, something shifted. I decided to stop dabbling and fully commit.
I joined a DNRS community group and told myself, I’m going to do this with everything I have.
That decision changed everything.
Being part of the community was transformational. I poured myself into the work — all the pillars — and began to see significant improvements more quickly than I ever expected. For so long, I had been chasing symptoms, convinced that the next treatment or diagnosis would be the answer.
It felt almost too simple to accept that this was a limbic system impairment and that by healing my brain, my symptoms could quiet down.
But once I truly understood that my brain was sending false danger signals to my body, everything clicked.
The Shift
I remember Annie saying in the DNRS videos, “Even if it doesn’t feel good, just keep going. Trust the process.”
For a long time, I did the work faithfully without seeing much change. Then one day, doing the exact same thing I had always done, something shifted.
I felt different.
It was like I had found myself again.
That moment was incredible.
Understanding Shame and Healing It
One of the most surprising parts of this journey was shame. For the first time in my life, I felt it deeply: feeling disconnected, unable to serve others, questioning my value.
Out of curiosity, I looked up where shame lives in the brain.
The limbic system.
That realization cemented everything for me. Shame had never been part of my story before. Now I could see clearly: my brain needed healing. And if my brain governed every other system, of course my body had been struggling too.
Gaining Capacity and Joy
Slowly, I began reintroducing things I had only dreamed about for years.
I could do them, and feel good doing them.
I was present, engaged, connected. I felt joy again.
Today:
- I walk every day
- I’ve taken on more piano students and have the capacity to teach
- I can attend my son’s activities — something I had grieved deeply
- I’m going on adventures with my husband again
- My stamina continues to grow
One of the most meaningful moments was hiking in Sedona on my favorite trail, something I had dreamed about for years. Not only did I hike it, I went farther than I ever had before, with energy to spare. I could have kept going.
That feeling of strength and victory was indescribable.
Stretching My Brain and Trusting Myself
Recently, I was asked to play violin for three Christmas Eve services. There was no violin music — I had to compose my own parts, translating what I heard into sheet music and creating something that complemented the singers.
It was a stretch.
My limbic system was loud.
But I had the tools.
I walked through it anyway — and I did it. The experience was life-giving, and I was amazed at what my brain could do again.
The Power of Community
If there’s one thing I can’t emphasize enough, it’s the importance of community.
I used to think I could do this on my own. But healing accelerated exponentially once I was part of a DNRS coaching group. Being seen, sharing victories, cheering each other on; it builds confidence and momentum in ways I never expected.
A few weeks into the classes, I realized something quietly profound:
I had found my smile again.
I hadn’t truly smiled in years. Life had felt so hard for so long. Feeling joy again felt like coming home.
A Message for Anyone Still Struggling
For years, I listened to healing testimonies: the YouTube videos, DNRS success stories. I wondered if recovery was even possible for me. It felt so far away.
Now I see it differently.
Healing isn’t gone… it’s like the sun behind the clouds. The sun is still there. You just have to keep doing the work and let the clouds part.
So if you’re struggling, my message is simple:
Keep going. This works. It takes effort, but it works. You will get there.
And I am so deeply grateful that DNRS helped bring my life back — the life I had dreamed of for so many years.
