Burnout, Reinvention & Rising

I remember being on vacation in Australia in early 2024 and realizing that the thought of returning to my business made me understand why people cry on the drive to work every morning.

The confusing part was that I loved my work. I had built my Pilates studio from the ground up. It was successful, deeply respected, and filled with people I genuinely cared about. From the outside, everything looked successful. Inside, I was completely burned out but the truth is, burnout doesn’t happen overnight.

I opened my Pilates studio in Halifax on May 1st, 2019. By the time I opened my doors, I already had a strong reputation in the city. I was known for smart cueing, precise corrections, and a high level of attentiveness to everyone in the room at once. I care deeply about how bodies move, and I showed up fully for people in a way that made them feel seen.

People responded to that. My classes filled quickly, and waitlists became the norm. For some studio owners, that kind of growth was respected. For others, it was perceived as a threat. That contrast made something very clear: I wanted to build something of my own. The Pilates Barre Halifax was born.

Less than a year later, COVID shut the world down.

Like so many small business owners, I had to pivot overnight, I had to show up. Online classes became a lifeline for a time, keeping people connected to their bodies and to each other. In hindsight, I had no idea how much that period would take out of me.

Many people didn’t see the level of decision fatigue COVID created. Running a business already means constantly making decisions, with a baseline level of uncertainty that comes from not having guaranteed income. During the pandemic, that uncertainty and level of decision-making multiplied exponentially. What might normally take weeks or months to plan had to be decided, planned, and executed in days, sometimes hours, often moments. 

I was so burned out, but I wouldn’t trade what it taught me.

I was wearing all the hats. I had to be everything, to everyone, all the time. No matter what was happening in my life, I still showed up to open the doors and turn the lights on. People came to receive my attention, my energy, and experience the level of care they knew I would give. And I gave it, even on days when I had nothing left in me.

By 2023, the studio was thriving again. It was successful. Meanwhile, I was absolutely exhausted. I remember being on vacation in Australia in early 2024, and the thought of going back to running my business made me think of when people cry on the way to work. But I loved my work. I had built this studio with my heart, it was mine and still, I didn’t want to go back. It was a bit of a clusterfuck. 

I was completely burned out. The question was, what was I going to do about it? I kept showing up.

Something had to give though, and it wasn’t going to be me. So I made the decision to sell my business. It mattered deeply to me that the person who would take it on was someone I trusted and someone I knew would take care of what I had built and do it justice. When I found that person, I was excited for both of us.

Then, just as we were approaching the closing date of the sale, a sewage backup caused by Halifax Water, flooded and destroyed the studio, forcing it to close for months. It was fair for everyone to assume insurance would take care of it. Well… it didn’t.

In fact, I received a fraction of what was actually needed to recover. I used my own savings to rebuild, not because it made sense, and maybe not even because it was wise but because I was protecting something I loved, something I had worked incredibly hard to create.

What no one saw was how much I actually lost. This wasn’t just a business disruption. I lost the sale of my business, my entire asset. I also lost what I thought was going to be my next chapter.

During that time, my hair began falling out. What people assumed was a cute new haircut wasn’t something I had chosen. My body was reallocating its resources, it was trying to keep me alive. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just “stress.” I wasn’t just burned out, I was practically in the urn.

On top of all of that, during the four-month closure, I experienced a major personal loss that brought me into what is often referred to as a dark night of the soul; a period of profound grief, loss of identity, and inner unraveling. I had never felt sadness like that before. It was sadness on a cellular level.

And still, when the doors reopened, I showed up.

I paid for that choice later. The cost was cumulative burnout: physical, emotional, and spiritual. Not because I didn’t love my work, but because there is a limit to how much one person can carry without being changed by it.

From the outside, it didn’t look that way. Outwardly, people often told me how fresh and well I looked and yes, there was a reason for that.

While I had no control over what was happening around me and couldn’t find mental calm, I focused on the one thing I could control, my physical body. This wasn’t about vanity. It was about nervous system regulation. I hoped that if I took care of my body, my mind would eventually catch up.

I committed to a level of self-care I once described as “not attainable for normal human beings.” It was daily, disciplined, and intentional. Regulating my nervous system became the main focus. I was creating a safe emotional space within my own body. I reconnected with my spirituality, and my rituals became, yes… a little “woo-woo.” These daily rituals were non-negotiable. Self-abandonment was no longer an option.

I wasn’t sharing any of this with anyone. I was too vulnerable. I didn’t feel safe enough to be seen in it, and I didn’t have the capacity to explain it. So I kept it private. I isolated myself, not to avoid, but to heal. I needed space to cry, to regulate, and to move through it all without having to be okay for anyone else.

Over time, everything shifted.

From that experience, Radiance Rising Method was born. It came at a time when I needed to be incredibly resilient, everything had to change, and taking care of myself wasn’t optional. During that time, I learned to choose myself in a way I never had before.

Around that time, women started coming to me with questions about opening their own studios. Not casually, they were actively looking for answers.

I didn’t gatekeep. I told them what it really takes, the good, the difficult, and everything in between. Many of them told me the same thing: no one would actually speak to them or answer their questions. I believe there’s space for women to succeed without competition or scarcity. We can be honest, supportive, and expansive at the same time.

So I began working with them, coaching, mentoring, and guiding them as they built and expanded their studios, from foundational decisions and systems, to more advanced training and equipment.

That’s where Radiance Rising Method really began to take shape.

At a time when I felt like I had nothing left, supporting other women and watching them make their dreams a reality was truly life-giving. In many ways, the women I was supporting were supporting me at a time when I needed it most. Without them even knowing, they helped me reimagine and build what would become my next chapter.

In August 2025, while floating in Lake Huron, I made the decision to close the studio I had built from the ground up. It wasn’t a failure, it was a completion and a graduation from everything I was there to learn.

I can now let go of what no longer fits, even when it hurts. Even when it feels impossible.

What I carry forward now isn’t just experience, it’s a deep understanding of resilience, burnout, reinvention, and what it actually means to choose yourself over everything and everyone else, fully and without compromise.

This chapter saved me. It shaped me. And it freed me.