Why I’m Leaving Phoenix to Build Veluna Wellness

I'm leaving Phoenix—not because I dislike it, but because staying here feels like staying small. Don’t get me wrong, Phoenix has given me plenty—opportunities, stability, even some comfort. But comfort isn’t always growth, and lately, comfort has felt more like confinement.

This isn’t just about switching cities. It’s about consciously closing a chapter—one that’s been powerful and painful in equal measure. The past few years in Phoenix have been filled with intense lessons, deep wounds, and a healing journey I never saw coming. I’ve learned more about resilience, trauma, and self-compassion than I ever thought possible—often the hard way. Phoenix was the backdrop to my quiet battles and gentle victories, where I learned firsthand that growth isn’t linear, and healing is rarely comfortable.

But now, something inside me feels ready—restless, even—to move forward. It's no longer enough to simply heal and hold steady. The city that once nurtured my recovery now feels like it’s holding me back from fully embodying the person I’ve become. The decision to leave isn't impulsive; it’s deliberate, deeply personal, and honestly, overdue.

Moving to Santa Fe is more than just picking a place that feels right. It’s a commitment to living authentically, expansively, and boldly. It’s choosing a life that matches my inner transformation. This isn’t about Phoenix itself, really; it’s about finally listening to that quiet, steady voice telling me it’s time to step into who I've grown into.

Santa Fe called to me not just because it made sense—but because it felt like medicine.

A Journey That Changed Everything

If you told me a few years ago that I'd be here—leaving Phoenix, ready to build something deeply meaningful in a completely new place—I would’ve been skeptical. But looking back, the road to this moment has been unfolding all along, even if I didn't always see it clearly.

It started with a seven-week solo backpacking trip overseas. Before that journey, my life was comfortably predictable but unfulfilled. I'd spent years in marketing, working long hours and chasing external validation. I was good at it, but something felt deeply missing—though at the time, I couldn't pinpoint what.

Traveling alone cracked something open inside me. It wasn’t just about the adventure—it was about learning to slow down, reconnect with myself, and listen to my intuition. For the first time, away from routines and expectations, I felt a quiet but unmistakable clarity: my life needed more meaning, more healing, and a deeper alignment with who I really was.

From Marketing to Massage

Returning home, I knew I couldn’t go back to my old life. The career I’d built no longer fit. I felt called—almost compelled—to pursue something that felt more honest, more healing. Massage therapy wasn’t an obvious choice at first, but once it entered my mind, it just felt right.

Massage became more than a profession. It became a path toward authenticity, transformation, and connection. It shifted my relationship with myself and others, teaching me how powerful it is to be fully present and to hold space for another human being. My work stopped being about relaxation and became about creating safety—for the body, for the nervous system, for the self.

“Choosing yourself doesn’t always feel like freedom at first. Sometimes, it feels like grief.”

A Global Pause and Personal Shift

Just as I began massage school, the pandemic hit. Like many, I found myself isolated and unsure of what was ahead. But in that stillness, I found clarity. The external world paused, but my inner world became louder. I was more certain than ever that healing work was my path.

During that time, I also made the painful decision to cut ties with toxic family members. It was liberating and devastating all at once—a grief that made space for self-trust. Without fully realizing it, I had begun the slow, steady work of choosing myself.

Trauma, Burnout, and Rebuilding

Eventually, I left Phoenix for what I thought would be a fresh start in Vermont. Instead, I walked straight into one of the darkest chapters of my life. Trauma resurfaced, my body shut down, and I had to quit massage work entirely. Everything paused.

Therapy—particularly DBT—became my lifeline. Mindfulness, once a nice idea, became a non-negotiable. I began to understand how deeply trauma lives in the body, and how slow, intentional practices can become a gateway back to safety. The way I healed—through breath, grounding, and gentle presence—quietly became the way I would someday help others heal, too.

What I didn’t know then was that the trauma-informed, intuitive approach I was developing out of necessity would become the very heart of the work I do now.

Returning to the Work, Returning to Myself

I came back to Phoenix reluctantly, staying with an ex while I found my footing. It was far from ideal, but it gave me what I needed: space to slowly rebuild.

I re-entered massage work part-time, carefully. I doubted myself often. But every session brought clarity. I began integrating what had helped me most—intentional breathing, nervous system awareness, intuitive touch—and clients responded in ways that deeply moved me. Many shared how they felt emotionally lighter, grounded, or truly seen.

That’s when I realized: this wasn’t just healing for them. It was healing for me, too. I wasn’t just building a business—I was building a reflection of everything I’d lived and learned.

If you’re curious about what these kinds of sessions feel like, you can explore my current offerings. Each one is shaped by lived experience, deep listening, and a trauma-informed approach that prioritizes safety, presence, and care.

“Some paths don’t shout. They whisper. You just have to be quiet enough to hear them.”

The Soul-Call of Santa Fe

Santa Fe started as a whisper. It showed up in dreams, in conversations, in subtle nudges I kept brushing off. When I finally visited, it felt like stepping into a place that had been waiting for me. The sky felt wider. The land felt older. My breath dropped deeper into my body.

Santa Fe is a place that values slowness, sacredness, and soul. It’s a city that honors the healing arts as a way of life—not just a service. Creativity and consciousness are baked into the culture. There’s room to be a whole person here—not just a practitioner, not just a survivor.

This isn’t a move to escape the past. It’s a move to expand into who I’ve become because of it. If you want to know more about the mission and personal roots of this work, you can read that here.

This Isn’t Just a Move. It’s a Becoming.

Leaving Phoenix is more than relocation. It’s a reclamation. It’s me saying yes to a life that reflects the truth of who I am now.

This next chapter holds everything I’ve learned: the slow rebuilds, the nervous system work, the deep listening. I’m not leaving to start over—I’m leaving to step into alignment.

Santa Fe isn’t just a city—it’s a symbol. A space to create, connect, and offer what I’ve quietly been cultivating through all these years of healing.

Santa Fe called to me not just because it made sense—but because it felt like medicine.