I was almost seven when my daddy moved away. I remember him driving, down that long gravel road, holding my breath, as he drove out of sight.

From that day on, my breathing remained shallow from my rib cage up, never deep from my belly unless I was alone. I would cry at night in my bed, often fantasizing about what life would be like if my daddy would come and take us away to be with him. About four years later he did. Real life was a little different than I had imagined. My teen years we’re spent living between houses. Full-time with my dad and stepmom and on weekends with my mom in a little wine country town called Sonoma. Although I loved the little town, it was a truly beautiful place, our household dynamic was very rigid. I planned my young adult escape almost the minute I moved in there to my dads. I cherished the community and being a kid in that magnificent valley though, make no mistake about that. I thrived they’re making friends, farming, even winning best in show at the Sonoma County fair, even hosted my high school talent show consecutively 🎤 I was basically living the high school dream.

Both my parents worked graveyard shift, so on weekends if we weren’t at moms, and we couldn’t be home by 10:30 PM, we had to find somewhere else to stay. “No if’s ands or but’s about it. Did I mention we had three locks on the front door? Needless to say, I mostly arranged to stay overnight with friends which meant I could mastermind trouble at other kids houses. Everyone’s parents seemed easier targets than my own, since mine were the strictest of anyone else I knew. For years I steered clear of my parents and kept on dodging the ups and downs at home as much as possible. Well, that was except for my twice yearly horrific lung infections that would send me practically crawling in to the hospital urgent care like it was some form of annual holiday. The usual protocol nebulizer of albuterol, Qvar…another inhaler, a steroid pack of prednisone, a strong dose of killer ass antibiotics and six days in bed with chills and fever. Then, other than the cough that lingered for the next several weeks, I would be just as good as new. Sadly those were the most loving times in that house for me, my parents checking in on me when I was sick, bringing me everything, telling me I was going to be OK.

It often went down in a fight with my sister though, as it turns out she felt my parents always dotted on me when I was sick but never on her. I didn’t see it that way of course, but she did and that was all that mattered. Interesting looking back now, I guess maybe she was right. But it was the only time I felt I had received their love purely. She had straight A’s and so she was their pride. Wow, that was an aha moment I just had.

My dad was a yeller, my stepmother would deal with anger by remaining absolutely silent. I love her dearly but she was the best at the silent treatment of anyone I have ever known. I remember holding my breath walking past her in the house. She could go days, days without looking at you, let alone speaking to you. So there we were in the house my parents working nights as we go around tiptoeing after school, trying to stay quiet going unnoticed and hoping we didn’t piss off anyone that was trying to sleep. My parents had one very strict rules for all of us and that was we were to move out of the house the day we turned 18 so we had better have a plan.

I had a really cool waterbed at my dads house. My mom had bought it for me for Christmas one year, which really pissed off my dad and stepmom. It was such a great gift for two reasons, one I could hide things under the mattress in the corner and two, it really help me sleep. Some nights I would lie in bed floating dreaming of my future life. The life I would make for myself, it made me feel special. My plan was simple…as soon as I could graduate high school, I would drain my bank account and the small savings I had from working through high school and raising pigs in the summer. Next, convince my boyfriend to do the same. Grab our cash and get an apartment together in the next town over. At that point the only thing standing in my way of getting on with my new life was finishing high school. He had graduated a year earlier with my older sister. All I would have to do was double up on my government class for my first semester senior year, and take a junior college level night class for my English credit, along with my regional occupation program from beauty school, and I could graduate early, with only one semester completed.

This is exactly what I did, I was only 17. At first being out of the house I felt like I could breathe but being wrapped up in a relationship that had moved way too quickly found myself barely breathing again. I headed into the big city of San Francisco to take my cosmetology exam, my spark plug aunt Linda took me there. She was a sharp dresser, I knew at the time she was the most attractive in our family. She was a reliable Christian woman with an absolute perfect set of hair for roller setting and perming. I worked on her hair for months getting ready for the test date.

The one memory that stands out to me the most is eating lunch with her that afternoon outside in San Francisco, at a tiny table set for two. The table was right in the middle of a bustling sidewalk with lots of good looking people walking around like they had somewhere important to go. I remember feeling the magnificence of the city and feeling like I was a part of it that day. I felt myself taking it all in with wide eyes and an open heart. I knew in that very moment that day, I was a country girl with a city heart. I vowed to live an exciting life full of adventure, see every vibrant city along the way. Venice, Paris, New York, I wanted to see them all. I wanted to have everything I could possibly imagine, everything that would allow me to fully express the adventurous spirit brewing up inside of me already. I remember I felt fearless in that moment on that street!

I passed the test that day, it felt like a brand new beginning for me. We drove the two hours back to my apartment and I started planning my escape! I felt like I could and more than that, wanted to do it all on my own.

I was so touched by the way my aunt had showed up for me, supporting me with countless hours of practicing, surely me tugging and pulling on her hair at times. Never once did she make me feel it was a bother. Her kindness, I remember was hard to let in fully. I wasn’t used to this much consistency in a person showing up for me. I honestly think my aunt Linda inspired my life more than I ever realized looking back now. She was always put together more than anyone else in our family, she was more than beautiful inside and out, she was a force. Looking back I think my aunt was showing me my worth.

I was holding my breath much less and I was able to fully be present, when I was at work behind the chair with my clients. Just listening, I started learning lessons about life that my mother couldn’t teach me. These are the lessons I started learning from my clients over the years. I learned so much about family dynamics and was recommended to many incredible books and programs. I was ready to keep expanding, I had big dreams.

I was around nineteen when a dear client gave me a book called “Heal your body,“ by Louise Hay. I’d been struggling with another bad round of bronchitis, still trying to end the relationship with my boyfriend. The client noticed my cough had been lingering when she gave me the book. Together we looked up my symptoms of “ Bronchitis” inside…since the book is basically a catalog for physical ailments and their emotional cause. I got chills when I read that it was directly related to an inflamed family environment, “often silent“. I was frozen as I had flashbacks to my childhood and all the years I had suffered with lung problems. Hello! Hello! Reading that the first time gave me chills. I will never forget that riveting moment with my newfound awareness that I had been getting chronic lung infections because of my childhood. And my current inflamed family environment was exacerbating the problem! I became aware of my breath for the very first time that day, thanks to Louise Hay and her work.

From that day on I started reading all of Louise Hay’s books. I started to discover how to trust my gifts, my intuition, putting myself first and foremost. Feeling the spirit of freedom and joy that lit me up. I’d been given a gift, a second chance. I had learned how to breathe from my belly. I learned to explore what I needed to do to make my dreams come true. I manifested so many beautiful things and friendships and started to trust life and trust myself. I never passed my reflection without winking at myself in the mirror for years, sort of odd when you first do it, but for me it was the thing that told me that I had my own back. I’ve always believed that Louise herself is with me and when she passed away, I started to believe that she was watching out for all of us.

If you haven’t discovered the work of Louise Hay, I promise you her work is so important. She is the reason we have so many amazing authors present in our community right now. She founded HayHouse publishing in her 70s, how’s that for amazing! She is someone that needs to be celebrated she is someone that changed my life. I have giving away her books to friends and clients for years with pride. Let’s keep her work alive and let’s keep the joy of her new online community at Hay House LIVE too…you can support it by making a small donation…all of the content there is now digital and it is incredibly empowering.

Deep breathing is the best way to connect to your soul. I’m showing up here to write this blog to talk about things that really matter and share things we talk about in the hair chair every day. I want to share the best lessons I’ve learned from the beautiful people who sit in my chair everyday and the beautiful souls who’ve helped transform my life. Are you breathing? monixo