When the Road Turns Narrow and the Body Remembers

This morning, I laced up my shoes and set out on one of the deserted dirt roads near my house. Two miles past where county maintenance ends, the foothills are quiet—except for the crunch of gravel under my feet and the heat already rising from the August sun. It was one of those training runs where the sweat comes early, but determination carries you forward.

I crested the top of a particularly steep and narrow hill when I heard it—the unmistakable growl of a vehicle climbing fast behind me. Instinct kicked in. I jumped off the road, scrambling up a slight embankment just to get out of the way. A red jeep tore past. I’ve seen the driver of that jeep more times than I can count over the past thirty years, always fast, always reckless. As it roared by, I shouted a single plea-- “Slow down!”

The brakes squealed. Dirt and gravel flew. The driver stopped, rolled down his window, and barked, “What did you just say?” His face was twisted with anger, and before I could take a breath, the tirade began—violent words, spit-flecked rage, a storm of profanity hurled at me as though I had no right to ask for safety on the road. I stood still, jaw tight, heart pounding, watching his anger unravel. Finally, I said, “I should have recorded this,” and he gunned the jeep forward, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

But the dust didn’t settle inside me. My shoulders were up around my ears. My jaw locked. My heart raced as if I were sprinting, though my feet barely moved. That moment—the ugliness of his words, the suddenness of the encounter—tore open something I thought I had long since sealed shut. It has been over 25 years since I left an abusive relationship, yet in seconds, my body remembered. Hypervigilance. The tight chest. The trauma response.

Running again, I realized it isn’t just the words of another that linger. It’s the way our nervous system imprints the memory of being unsafe. We can heal, rebuild, and thrive—and still, one unexpected encounter can remind us how fragile safety feels when it’s shattered.

The Toll of Walking on Eggshells

Years of living in an intimate partner violent relationship had already left their mark on me. Walking on eggshells—never knowing when the explosion would come—creates a chronic stress response. And chronic stress is not just emotional. It’s biological.

Inflammation became the undercurrent of my life. My joints ached. Endometriosis flared. Hormones shifted out of balance. Weight crept up as my body stored fuel for what it perceived as endless survival mode. My knees bore the brunt, eventually requiring multiple surgeries. The stress wasn’t just “in my head”—it was imprinted in my cells, my tissues, my very biochemistry.

The Genetics of Stress: When the Body Remembers Too

That moment on the dirt road wasn’t just about a neighbor’s anger—it was about my body’s wiring. Functional genomics helps explain why, even decades later, stress can ignite such a powerful response—and why some of us feel its sting more deeply, struggling to return to baseline. For me—and for many of my clients—genetic variations play a significant role.

MTHFR

Take MTHFR, for example. Variants in this gene affect how efficiently we process folate and carry out methylation, which is critical for neurotransmitter balance. Under stress, sluggish methylation can mean mood swings or slower recovery. For me, this explained years of low resilience in the face of unrelenting stress—why I could push forward outwardly, yet feel like I was barely keeping my head above water inside.

FTO

Then there’s FTO, often called the “fat mass and obesity” gene. It influences hunger and satiety hormones, and when paired with chronic cortisol spikes, it made my own weight loss journey harder. I could eat like others but gain more easily, especially during stressful seasons. I carried 70 extra pounds until I understood how much stress chemistry and genetics were stacking the odds against me.

Cortisol Response Genes (FKBP5, NR3C1)

Cortisol response genes like FKBP5 and NR3C1 add another layer. Variants here keep the body locked in fight-or-flight longer. That was me for years: shoulders up, heart racing, never quite able to exhale. Even decades after leaving an abusive relationship, one ugly encounter could flip the switch and my body would respond as if the danger never ended.

COMT

My COMT variant regulates how slowly I clear stress hormones like adrenaline and dopamine, which means I hold onto them longer. It fueled my high-achiever drive—helping me push through 35 years of leadership in healthcare and two full Ironman races—but it also meant my nervous system rarely rested. I could perform at a high level, but always at a high cost.

BDNF

I’ve also come to understand my relationship with BDNF (Brain-Derived Neurotrophic Factor), which supports neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to adapt. I lean into this every time I train, every time I rebuild from injury, every time I choose a new mindset. Completing Ironman wasn’t just physical—it was my brain proving it could rewire resilience, even after trauma.

TPH2

TPH2, which helps synthesize serotonin, brought another layer of insight. Variants here can blunt serotonin production, making stress harder to buffer. I remember long stretches of “flat” mood when I thought I was irreparably damaged. Learning this wasn’t a character flaw, but biochemistry, lifted shame off my shoulders.

GAD1

With GAD1, a gene key to producing GABA, our calming neurotransmitter, I saw myself clearly. Variants here can mean racing thoughts, muscle tension, and sleepless nights. Looking back, I see how often I lived in this state—wired, restless, waiting for the next outburst, the next shoe to drop.

MAOA

And then there’s MAOA, sometimes called the “warrior gene.” Certain variants intensify reactivity, making stress responses sharper. I felt this as a kind of inner fire—sometimes destructive, sometimes the very force that helped me rise and fight for my life and future.

“It isn’t weakness. It’s wiring. Stress leaves fingerprints on our physiology, and for those genetically predisposed, the impact can be profound.”

In other words, it isn’t weakness. It’s wiring. Stress leaves fingerprints on our physiology, and for those genetically predisposed, the impact can be profound. But here’s the other truth-- our genes are not destiny. Understanding them gave me both context and compassion—for why I struggled, and why I endured. And now, it’s what allows me to guide my clients in using their own DNA blueprint to rewrite their story—moving from survival mode to resilience, and from cycles of stress and weight gain to lasting freedom.

Recognizing—and Releasing—the Trauma Response

This morning encounter on the dirt road reminded me that trauma responses don’t disappear. They lie dormant, waiting for a trigger. But we can learn to recognize them. The racing heart. The shallow breath. The jaw clenched tight. The hyperawareness that feels like the whole world just narrowed to danger.

Recognition is the first step. Release is the second. For me, that means pausing to breathe deeply, dropping my shoulders, grounding in the present moment, and reminding myself: I am safe now. Practices like box breathing, mindful movement, time in nature, and even art all help reset the nervous system—rewiring it toward resilience.

From Pain to Purpose

It’s been more than 25 years since I left an abusive relationship. The years since have been a journey of rebuilding, healing, and growth. Out of that, I created Iron Crucible Health Coaching—and later, in early 2022, The Crucible Center for Arts and Wellbeing.

The years I spent in survival mode—walking on eggshells, battling inflammation, navigating surgeries, and carrying extra weight—shaped more than just my story. They shaped my mission. Out of that crucible, I built Iron Crucible Health Coaching, where I use functional genomics to help others break free from the cycles of stress, weight gain, and dependence on GLP-1 medications. By looking at each person’s unique genetic blueprint, I create individualized programs that align with their biology instead of forcing them into one-size-fits-all solutions. My work is about more than a number on the scale—it’s about restoring freedom, clarity, and resilience at the deepest level.

What began as my own path to healing grew into a calling—not only to guide individuals in reclaiming their health through Iron Crucible Health Coaching, but also to extend that same hope and resilience into the wider community.

That’s why I also created The Crucible Center for Arts and Wellbeing, a nonprofit that extends this healing beyond the individual and into the community. Because I know firsthand how trauma lingers, long after the bruises fade. I know how the body pays the bill for years of stress. And I know how vital it is to have safe spaces where healing can begin. At the Crucible Center, we serve the vulnerable members of our region—especially survivors of intimate partner abuse—through nature, art, holistic wellness, and resilience-building practices. Learn more by visiting: www.CrucibleCenter.org

That’s why 25% of the proceeds from my book, The GLP-1 Exit Plan, go directly into this mission. Every copy isn’t just a roadmap for personal health—it’s a contribution toward restoring wholeness in lives fractured by trauma.

The Road Ahead
Today on the dirt road reminded me that we all carry invisible stories. Our nervous systems don’t forget. But neither do they stay stuck. With awareness, tools, and support, we can release the grip of the past and reclaim the present.

Because healing isn’t about erasing what happened—it’s about rewriting the story with strength, clarity, and resilience. We all have roads that turn narrow. What matters is how we choose to keep moving forward—this time with clarity, safety, and strength. That’s the work I do every day through Iron Crucible Health Coaching: helping people use their DNA blueprint to find freedom from stress, weight struggles, and the uncertainty of life after GLP-1s.

That’s the work of resilience. That’s the work of a crucible.

If this resonates with you—or with someone you care about—explore The GLP-1 Exit Plan or connect with me at Iron Crucible Health Coaching. Together, we can turn the weight of the past into the strength of a new beginning.

💜 If you are experiencing the pain or danger of intimate partner violence, please know you are not alone. In the U.S., you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text “START” to 88788 for immediate, confidential support. If you are outside the U.S., please reach out to a trusted local hotline or shelter in your area.

And if encouragement and support would help you take the next step, I welcome you to connect with me. Healing is possible, and hope is within reach.

 The road may narrow, but resilience gives us the strength to keep moving forward.

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