Honoring the Whole: A Journey of Integration and Presence

For me, plant medicine was as close to a last resort as I could have imagined. My journey here wasn’t driven by despair but by an inability to feel the happiness surrounding me. I was living a life that, by all outward appearances, should have been perfect: a loving family, a comfortable home, Madi, my cornerstone and my firstborn, and two miracle children who brought so much light into my world. And yet, I couldn’t feel any of it. It was in this moment, surrounded by happiness but unable to let it in, that I knew I had to try something different. It wasn’t rock bottom that brought me here; it was the deep, haunting realization that I was missing my life, stuck in a cycle of self-sabotage that I couldn’t break.

I had always felt inherently broken. I carried the weight of that from childhood, believing that my brokenness was woven into the fabric of my being. Religion reinforced this idea, telling me that imperfection and struggle were simply the human condition, a burden carried from the original sin of Adam. Just like Adam, I seemed destined to ruin the gift I had been given every single day. This sense of doom, this relentless cycle, drove me to seek answers.

I needed a breakthrough. I needed something to strip away the layers of torment and pain. I had read about plant medicine and its profound effects on people who had been through unimaginable suffering. While my struggles may not have been so extreme, I felt the weight of my own suffering acutely. My hope was for ego death, a shattering of the parts of myself that couldn’t stop sabotaging my happiness.

But what I found was something entirely different.

When I was lead to IFS, or Internal Family Systems therapy, I was told something that shifted everything for me: “All of the parts are doing the best they can and they all have a place with you. Some parts just need to know that it’s safe now.” That was the beginning of understanding that every voice, every thought, every part of me, had a role. They weren’t obstacles to overcome; they were allies needing recognition. This wasn’t about erasing or “fixing” parts of myself - it was about meeting them right where they were, holding the burden that they had been carrying and integrating them.

That’s where I began to see that each part serves its purpose, like a council of advisors. They had carried me through dark times, each in their own way. I realized that I didn’t need to “kill off” any part; I needed to let each one be heard. Now, I understand that the voices are not meant to make me reactive, but instead to help me live mindfully. It’s like Survivor’s “tribal council” where no one is voted off, but everyone is given the opportunity to share their wisdom.

The work, then, is about honoring the journey that each part of me has taken and the battles they’ve fought. It’s about pausing and asking each voice, each thought, “Does this reflect the present?” and then choosing an action rooted in the reality of now. My past no longer needs to dictate my present; it simply needs to be acknowledged, allowing my parts to heal.

So yes, the best possible outcome, the real gift, is bringing this completed puzzle into full being. It’s about living a life that honors the struggles and sacrifices that each part endured to bring me here. I can rest in the truth that I am worthy, I am loved, and I am finally safe to be fully present.

Bringing the completed puzzle into full being isn’t about reaching an end; it’s about living with clarity and compassion in every moment. Each part of me, every piece of this puzzle, is exactly where it was meant to be. Some pieces had been forced into places where they barely fit, and others had been wedged into spaces that weren’t theirs to hold. Edges needed to be restored and refined, revealing the true form beneath.

Now, as the pieces align, I honor the parts that endured, that adapted, that sacrificed, and that kept me moving forward. They can finally rest, knowing they’ve done their job well. Living fully means recognizing and allowing each piece to settle into its place, creating a life that’s not about reaching for some distant end, but about embodying the wholeness that’s always been there.