Ten years ago, on June 8, at 33 years old, I nearly died.

Giving birth, then nearly dying as a result, has a way of bringing life and its fragility into focus really damn quick.

In the years that followed, I have fought to hold together a life that, in many ways, wasn’t aligned to the version of myself that emerged from that experience. Often that misalignment felt impossibly heavy, complicated, and overwhelming.

I reluctantly reached out to a recommended therapist in the spring of 2017. They told me they could see me in eight weeks. I remember declining the offered appointment deciding I was going to have to figure this out on my own. That’s when I began to discover the power of simplification.

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Everything about labor with my second (and final) child went the opposite of planned. After 16 hours, I found myself situated on an operating table for a routine c-section. Within minutes, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

With an epidural in place and medical equipment attached all over me, I was made aware that there was a complication. Physically out of control and in the hands of an obstetrician and her team, all of whom I had met just thirty minutes prior, the only thing I could do was mentally fight for my life.

After 12 hours and two surgeries I woke up intubated in the intensive care unit.

Following four days of physical recovery in the hospital, I walked away from the hospital grateful to be alive and largely unaware of the mental trauma that followed me.

I took 12 weeks maternity leave, a “privilege” in the United States, bestowed upon me for giving birth surgically. Then, dutifully returned to work and my normal life, plus one child. All the while struggling with the fact that I had nearly ceased to exist in this world just weeks earlier and was now expected by society and myself to just carry on. The joy and gratitude I felt living as a mother of two reminded me why I survived, but the weight of the trauma along with everyday life made survival itself difficult to always appreciate.

What finally prompted me to contact a therapist was when I found myself nine months postpartum sitting on the kitchen floor against the cabinets frustrated, exhausted and crying because of baby bottles. Of course my anger and tears were not really about the baby bottles. They were about the exhaustion, the grief, the trauma, the pressure to keep moving forward, and the feeling that there wasn’t enough time or space to process any of it. It was then I knew I needed a break.

As a working wife and mother of two young children, breaks were few and far between and certainly not long enough to truly deal with everything on my plate especially with therapy not immediately available. The only solution I could think of was to start identifying ways to simplify my life. I knew no one was going to rescue me from the weight I was carrying, so I had to find a new way to fight for my survival.

The acts of simplification started small. I leaned into my natural organization and productivity strengths to simplify my home, my expectations, my commitments, my schedule and even my thoughts. Each small decision created a little more room to breathe and built my confidence to better manage life. The heaviness began to lighten.

Today, I still carry and share the lessons born from one of the hardest seasons of my life. Life will always bring unexpected challenges, grief, joy, change, and growth. We can’t control what comes our way, but we can be intentional about what we carry in our mental and physical space. For me, that has become the heart of a simplified life and the why behind An Eye to Simplify.

As a client or prospective client of An Eye to Simplify, it’s important to me that you know we are more than just an organization and productivity company, we are a lifeline, when daily life becomes unmanageable. You are not failing. You are surviving. We know what that feels like, and we are here to help you.

Simply,