A monthly reflection on nervous system healing, slowing down, and living with intention.
I'm so glad you're here.
Finding Flow is a collection of monthly reflections inspired by my own journey, the conversations I have with clients, and the incredible wisdom of the nervous system.
As a CT Technologist and Spinal Flow Practitioner, I spend my days helping people understand the body. But I've realized that some of my greatest lessons have come from learning to slow down myself.
These aren't perfect answers.
They're honest reflections.
My hope is that each month you'll leave with a little more understanding, a little more hope, and perhaps permission to be a little kinder to yourself.
Welcome.
— Stephanie
There's something about October that always makes change a little harder to ignore.
The days get shorter. The air feels different. The trees begin letting go of what they've been holding onto all year.
And lately, I've been thinking about how much harder that seems to be for us.
We like to know what's next.
We want the plan.
We want reassurance that if we let go of one thing, something better is waiting on the other side.
I know I do.
When something in my life starts changing, my first instinct isn't usually to sit peacefully and see where it goes.
My brain starts working.
What do I need to do?
What do I need to fix?
What's the next step?
What's Plan B?
And before I know it, there are twenty mental tabs open again.
I've been noticing that about myself lately.
Sometimes I spend so much energy trying to figure out what's coming next that I don't give myself time to simply be where I am.
And maybe that's part of healing too.
Learning that we don't have to have every answer before we take the next step.
Our nervous system loves what is familiar. Even when the familiar isn't necessarily what we want anymore, there's comfort in knowing what to expect.
Change can feel uncomfortable simply because it's unknown.
So we hold on.
To routines.
To expectations.
To old versions of ourselves.
Sometimes even to things we've already outgrown.
But look at what nature is doing right now.
The trees aren't fighting to keep every leaf.
They're letting go.
Not because something has gone wrong, but because it's part of the season they're in.
I think there's something beautiful in that.
Maybe letting go doesn't always mean losing something.
Maybe sometimes it means making room.
Room for a different pace.
A different direction.
A different version of ourselves.
Or maybe just enough quiet to finally hear what we need.
I'm learning that I don't always need to know exactly what's next.
I can take care of what's in front of me today.
One decision.
One task.
One moment at a time.
And trust that the next step will become clearer when I get there.
Letting things unfold without immediately trying to figure out the entire outcome.
When I catch myself jumping ten steps ahead, I'm reminding myself:
Come back to this one.
This moment.
This decision.
This day.
That's enough.
What are you holding onto simply because not knowing what comes next feels uncomfortable?
Maybe you don't have to let it all go today.
Maybe you can just loosen your grip a little.
September always feels like an in-between month.
Summer isn’t quite gone. Fall isn’t quite here. The days begin to shift, the air starts to change, and little by little, nature begins preparing for a new season.
Maybe we can too.
Not with a big reset. Not by deciding we need to reinvent ourselves before the end of the year.
But by asking:
What am I ready to make room for?
Maybe there’s something you’ve been carrying that you don’t really need anymore. An expectation. A routine. A responsibility you automatically said yes to. A way of thinking about yourself that doesn’t fit quite like it used to.
And maybe making room isn’t only about letting something go.
Maybe there’s something you want to bring back.
Creativity.
Fun.
Rest.
Connection.
Something you used to love doing before life got so busy.
I think there’s something beautiful about the way nature transitions. It doesn’t rush from one season into the next. It changes a little at a time.
Maybe we’re allowed to do that too.
This month, instead of asking what you need to accomplish next, ask yourself:
What am I ready to let go of?
What do I want to make more room for?
And what part of me might be ready to come back to life?
Today is my birthday.
Birthdays have a way of making us pause, even if just for a moment. They invite us to look back at where we've been and quietly wonder where we're headed.
This year, I found myself reflecting on something different.
Not how much I've accomplished.
Not how many goals I've reached.
But how I've been living.
For a long time, I believed being busy meant I was doing life well. There was always another shift to work, another responsibility to carry, another project to start, another idea to chase.
I became very good at keeping up.
But somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn't always present.
My mind was often living three steps ahead of where my body was.
Sound familiar?
As I've learned more about the nervous system—not only through Spinal Flow but through my own journey—I've realized that healing isn't always about fixing what's wrong.
Sometimes it's about creating enough space to notice what's already right.
To enjoy a quiet morning.
To sit outside with my dogs.
To have a conversation without thinking about the next thing on my list.
To finish one task before reaching for another.
To simply breathe.
These moments may seem small, but our nervous system notices them.
They remind the body that not every moment requires urgency.
That not every day has to be filled to be meaningful.
That our worth isn't measured by how much we produce.
As I begin another year of life, that's the gift I'm hoping to give myself.
More presence.
More intention.
More grace when life doesn't go according to plan.
I'm still learning.
I imagine I always will be.
But maybe that's what healing really looks like—not arriving at some perfect destination, but gently choosing, day after day, to live with a little more awareness than we did yesterday.
If you've been rushing from one thing to the next lately, consider this your invitation to pause with me.
Your body doesn't need perfection.
It needs moments of safety.
And sometimes, those moments begin with something as simple as slowing down.
Being fully present in the moment I'm already in instead of rushing toward the next one.
If your calendar wasn't measuring your worth, what would you choose to make time for this month?
Thank you for being here and for allowing me to share this journey with you.
I came across a quote that I haven't been able to stop thinking about.
"Productivity becomes identity."
It made me uncomfortable because I saw myself in it.
For years, I believed I was doing my best when I was doing everything.
Working at the hospital.
Growing Flow Into Wellness.
Thinking about clients.
Taking care of our home.
Loving on our pets.
Planning projects.
Making lists...
...and making more lists.
My brain became really good at carrying everything.
But somewhere along the way, I stopped asking whether carrying everything was actually healthy.
I've started noticing something.
When I don't finish my list, I don't just think...
"I'll get to it tomorrow."
Instead, my mind quietly whispers...
"You didn't do enough today."
That's a heavy thing to carry.
And if I'm honest, I think a lot of us are carrying it.
As I've learned more about the nervous system through Spinal Flow—and through my own life—I've realized that constant multitasking doesn't always make us more productive.
Sometimes it simply keeps the body in a state of constant readiness.
Always scanning.
Always planning.
Always anticipating what's next.
No wonder so many of us struggle to relax.
Lately, I've been practicing something simple.
One task.
One conversation.
One moment.
Then the next.
It's amazing how different my day feels when I stop asking my brain to be everywhere at once.
I'm still learning.
Maybe that's what healing really is.
Not becoming someone completely different...
but gently returning to someone who doesn't believe their worth is measured by how much they accomplished today.
If you needed permission to slow down this week...
this is it.
This month I'm practicing closing one mental tab before opening another.
A Reflection to Carry with You: A question to sit with this month...
What would change if your worth wasn't measured by everything you accomplished today?