The Mountain That Brought Me Back to Myself

An unexpected journey through illness, Bali, Japan, and the quiet magic of learning to listen to myself again.

Three months ago, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get on a plane.

And a few weeks ago, I found myself standing on a sacred mountain in Japan, overwhelmed with gratitude that my body had carried me there.

But let me start at the beginning.

When Life Forces You to Slow Down

Earlier this summer, my life changed almost overnight.

I began experiencing some frightening symptoms. Intense pressure in my head and ears, constant lightheadedness, a racing heart, and the overwhelming feeling that I might pass out at any moment.

I went to the emergency room. I saw a cardiologist. I was prescribed medication, but I still didn't fully understand what was happening to me.

One of the ER doctors suggested I look into dysautonomia or POTS, conditions involving the autonomic nervous system, which regulates many of the functions our bodies perform automatically, including heart rate and blood pressure.

Suddenly, things I had always taken for granted became incredibly difficult.

You have to understand something about me.

I was someone who did CrossFit almost every day. I had run 50K and 60K trail races. I was accustomed to pushing my body, challenging myself, and believing that if I worked hard enough, I could accomplish just about anything.

And now?

I couldn't even make it through a yoga class.

Some days, simply getting through the day felt like an accomplishment.

But perhaps the hardest part was the fear.

I had spent nearly a year planning and preparing for our women's retreat in Bali. Nine incredible women were counting on me to help create this experience, and I was terrified that I wouldn't be well enough to go.

For weeks, I rested. I focused on nourishing my body, reducing stress, and understanding what my nervous system was experiencing. I began to see small improvements, but the progress was painfully slow.

And during those long, quiet days, something began to become clear.

For years, I had been taking care of everything and everyone around me, but I hadn't truly been taking care of myself.

I was always doing something. Building businesses. Planning. Helping clients. Working out. Creating. Giving.

Even when I thought I was resting, my mind was usually planning what needed to happen next.

I had become so accustomed to being busy that I had forgotten what it felt like to simply be.

I began to wonder whether years of stress and inadequate recovery had contributed to how overwhelmed my body was feeling.

Whatever had caused my illness, I knew one thing: I couldn't continue living exactly as I had before.

My body needed something different from me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was finally listening.

Bali: The Beginning of Something Beautiful

When September arrived, I was still nervous.

The thought of long flights, unfamiliar places, and being so far from home with unpredictable symptoms was frightening.

But I took it one day at a time.

And I got on that plane.

I can't fully explain the gratitude I felt when I realized I had made it to Bali.

Together with my sister, I facilitated our women's retreat, surrounded by nine beautiful women who had each arrived with their own stories, challenges, hopes, and reasons for being there.

Over the following days, we shared experiences, laughter, tears, meaningful conversations, and moments of deep reflection.

We stepped outside our everyday routines and allowed ourselves to experience something different.

And somewhere along the way, I realized that this retreat wasn't just for the women who had joined us.

It was for me, too.

I had spent so much time creating a space for other women to reconnect with themselves that I hadn't realized how deeply I needed that same experience.

There is something extraordinary about traveling somewhere new.

When we step away from the familiar, we also step away from many of the roles, responsibilities, and expectations that define our everyday lives.

We begin to see things differently.

We remember that the world is so much bigger than our schedules, our worries, and our to-do lists.

And sometimes, when we're far away from everything we know, we find ourselves again.

I didn't know it yet, but Bali was only the beginning of what this journey had to teach me.

Japan: A Journey to the Birthplace of Reiki

After our retreat, my sister and I had planned to spend a few days in Japan before returning home.

We stayed in Kyoto, a city rich with history, tradition, beautiful temples, and a sense of reverence woven into everyday life.

As a Reiki Master, there was one place I especially wanted to visit.

Mount Kurama.

Nestled in the mountains north of Kyoto, Mount Kurama holds a special place in Reiki history.

According to Reiki tradition, it was here in 1922 that Mikao Usui spent 21 days in meditation and spiritual practice. On the final day, he is said to have experienced a profound awakening that became the foundation of the Reiki healing system practiced around the world today.

I had shared Reiki with many others and now I had the opportunity to walk the very mountain connected to its origins.

It felt like a pilgrimage.

But there was one problem.

I wasn't sure I could physically do it.

One Step at a Time

The morning of our hike, I woke up feeling dizzy.

My symptoms were still unpredictable, and the thought of climbing a mountain filled with steep trails and countless stairs was intimidating.

I told my sister that I would go as far as I comfortably could. We agreed that if I needed to stop, we would make our way back down.

There was no pressure to reach the top.

No finish line.

No expectation.

Just one step at a time.

And so we began walking.

The forest was beautiful. Ancient trees towered above us, their roots winding across the earth. The air felt different somehow—quiet, peaceful, almost sacred.

We climbed stairs.

And more stairs.

I stopped to check in with myself, rested when I needed to, and continued when I felt comfortable.

To my surprise, I began to feel better as we walked.

Not because I was pushing myself to prove something, but because I was finally moving with a different intention.

I wasn't racing.

I wasn't trying to accomplish anything.

I was simply present.

Step by step, we continued.

And before we knew it, we had reached the temple.

I could hardly believe it.

The Conversation I Didn't Know I Needed

We entered the temple, made our offering, and spent a few quiet moments in prayer.

Afterward, my sister and I sat outside, surrounded by the stillness of the mountain.

We began talking.

At first, it was just a conversation about our childhood. Memories of growing up, experiences we shared, moments that made us laugh, and others that were more difficult to revisit.

But as the conversation unfolded, something shifted.

We began talking about experiences that had shaped us. The beliefs we had developed about ourselves. The patterns we carried into adulthood without ever really questioning where they came from.

It was almost as if the conversation was being gently guided.

One memory led to another.

One realization opened the door to something deeper.

And with each word, I felt as though I was releasing something I had been carrying for a very long time.

Old expectations.

Old ways of thinking.

The belief that I always needed to be strong.

That I needed to keep going.

That resting somehow meant I wasn't doing enough.

I realized how much of my life had been spent doing rather than being.

And sitting there on that mountain, I felt a weight begin to lift.

The Gift of Stillness

At one point, I closed my eyes to meditate.

As I sat quietly, I began to feel a familiar warmth and tingling in my hands.

As a Reiki practitioner, it was a sensation I recognized immediately.

I felt deeply connected to the mountain, to the history of the place, and to the countless people who had made their own spiritual journeys there.

A beautiful sense of peace washed over me.

And in that moment, I understood something that had been trying to reach me for months.

I had spent so much time listening to what everyone else needed that I had stopped listening to myself.

For years, I had filled nearly every available moment.

If there was something to do, I did it.

If someone needed help, I helped.

If there was an opportunity to create something new, I pursued it.

But where was the space to reflect?

To process?

To integrate everything I was experiencing?

To simply sit with myself without needing to accomplish anything?

During the months I had been ill, I had spent countless hours alone with my thoughts.

And let me tell you, they weren't always peaceful.

My symptoms were loud.

My fear was loud.

The voice in my head constantly wondering what might happen next was even louder.

But on Mount Kurama, something felt different.

For the first time in months, I could hear myself clearly.

And my inner voice was finally softer.

Kinder.

More peaceful.

It wasn't telling me to do more.

It wasn't telling me to push harder.

It was simply reminding me that I mattered, too.

That I deserved the same love, patience, and care I so freely gave to everyone else.

And perhaps that was the greatest gift I could have received on that mountain.

Not an answer to every question.

Not a miraculous cure.

But a deeper connection to myself.

The Other Side of the Mountain

What amazes me most is that we didn't just reach the temple.

We continued across Mount Kurama and eventually descended into Kibune, a beautiful little mountain village tucked into the Japanese countryside.

Walking through that traditional village felt like stepping into another world.

The architecture, the forest, the flowing water, the quiet beauty of Japanese culture—it was all so incredibly special.

I remember looking around and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.

Just a few months earlier, I had struggled to get through an ordinary day.

And here I was, on the other side of a mountain in Japan.

I had no idea what the coming months would bring or how my recovery would continue.

But in that moment, I wasn't thinking about any of that.

I was simply grateful to be there.

To experience it.

To feel connected to life again.

Why We Need to Make Space for Ourselves

Since returning home, I've thought a lot about this journey.

About Bali.

About Mount Kurama.

About the women who trusted us to guide them through their own experiences.

And about the lessons my body had been trying so desperately to teach me.

I've come to understand that self-care isn't just about getting a massage, taking a bath, or attending a yoga class.

Those things can be wonderful, of course.

But real self-care goes deeper.

It's giving yourself permission to rest without guilt.

It's creating space to feel your emotions instead of constantly distracting yourself.

It's noticing when your body is asking you to slow down.

It's making time for meaningful conversations, new experiences, quiet reflection, and the things that bring you joy.

And sometimes, it's giving yourself permission to step away from your everyday life long enough to remember who you are beneath all the responsibilities.

This is one of the reasons I believe so deeply in the power of travel and retreats.

It's not simply about visiting beautiful destinations.

It's about what happens within us when we give ourselves the space to experience something new.

The conversations we might never have at home.

The friendships formed with women who were once strangers.

The moments of wonder that remind us how beautiful this world really is.

The stillness that allows us to hear our own inner wisdom.

And the parts of ourselves we rediscover along the way.

I don't believe we have to travel across the world to find these things. We can begin creating that space in our everyday lives, too.

But sometimes, stepping away from everything familiar helps us see what has been right in front of us all along.

An Invitation to Yourself

If there's one thing I hope you take away from my story, it's this:

Please don't wait until your body forces you to slow down before you begin making yourself a priority.

You don't have to earn your rest.

You don't have to accomplish one more thing before you're allowed to enjoy your life.

And you don't have to wait for the perfect moment to do something meaningful for yourself.

Whether it's taking a quiet morning to reflect, joining us for a sound bath, reconnecting with an old friend, or finally saying yes to that trip you've been dreaming about—give yourself permission to make space for the things that nourish your soul.

I'm still learning.

I'm still healing.

And I'm still figuring it all out.

But I know one thing for certain.

I will never forget the feeling of sitting on Mount Kurama, surrounded by the stillness of the forest, finally hearing my own inner voice again.

And I hope, in whatever way feels right for you, that you find that same beautiful connection within yourself.

With love and gratitude,

Stephanie