Being is the Reason

Regular exercise is extremely beneficial for both our bodies and our minds. Beyond the typical gains of lean muscle mass and reductions in body fat—which do wonders for confidence—exercise has also been shown to improve sleep, elevate mood, and release chemicals that help reduce feelings of depression.

But what does that really mean in the real world? After all, we can know a million definitions for words without ever truly understanding what they mean when it comes to real world application.

2024 was an exceptionally hard year for our family. On September 2nd, we lost our father, and just a couple of months later, on December 17th, we lost our mother. For those who have experienced the loss of a parent—especially those close with their families—it comes as no surprise that this is one of the most emotionally challenging times in a person’s life.

It becomes difficult to feel anything other than the immense loss of the people who are part of your very reason for being. You also find it hard to stay motivated to do much of anything at all. Especially difficult is finding the energy to commit to something like a fitness routine, which requires consistency, discipline, and effort.

For me, fitness had been a big part of my life for many years. But in the months leading up to their passing, I had drifted away from structured exercise. It had been months since I had seriously considered working out.

After the initial shock of losing my father, I found myself operating somewhere between autopilot and panic as I helped care for our disabled mother. Exercise felt like the last thing that should be on my mind.

But in those days and weeks after his passing, I went into the backyard and picked up the only piece of fitness equipment I owned at the time—a dumbbell.

In that small, rusting piece of steel, I found a pathway forward.

I began working out again. I got creative, built simple routines, and stuck to them. As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I found myself exercising consistently again. The structure in those simple movements gave me focus. It gave me direction.

Exercise brought my own health and mortality into perspective—and in doing so, it gave me something I desperately needed: motivation. Motivation to care for my family. Motivation to show up where I was needed. Motivation to keep moving forward.

Then I received the call that my mother had passed in the night.

The relationship between a child and their mother is without parallel. While every relationship is different, there is truly no other love like that between a parent and child. We were blessed to have parents who loved us deeply—even when it wasn’t easy.

Our mother had become disabled after a stroke, losing the use of the left side of her body and requiring significant care for even basic daily tasks. As someone who had taken on a caregiving role from a young age, the loss brought with it a deep sense of anxiety—and, at times, a feeling of failure.

Depression began to creep back in, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. I found myself replaying the past—thinking about all the “should haves” and “could haves.”

But through it all, I continued to exercise.

I took a simple job as a baker. I cried. I hurt. But I kept showing up—for myself and for others. I committed myself to striving for excellence in everything I did, because it felt like the best way to honor the sacrifices my parents had made for me.

Eventually, I joined a gym. I started rebuilding my routine. And somewhere along the way, I enrolled in NASM courses to become a personal trainer. I found purpose in helping others—and I realized I could turn that passion into something meaningful.

During this time, I reconnected with family members, including my uncle—my mother’s brother. We began speaking regularly while he was living in Florida and I was in North Carolina. I found comfort in hearing stories about my parents from before I was born and recalling memories from my childhood.

I passed my NASM exam on my first attempt. And while my parents were no longer physically here, I heard the words I had longed for—words I knew they would have said:

“I’m proud of you.”

Then, just before Christmas in 2025, I received another call—this time from the ICU of a hospital in Florida. My uncle was experiencing kidney failure. Though he had downplayed it, the situation was serious.

I packed my things and drove eight hours to be with him.

He had no children and no immediate family nearby. I knew that having someone there would be critical for his recovery. When I arrived, I assessed the situation using my experience as a caretaker for our mother and made the decision to move to Florida to help him maintain his independence after rehabilitation.

During that visit, I also began interviewing at gyms—including the facility that would eventually become Harbour Fitness. That’s where I first met Matt Armstrong, who would later become one of the owners. I quickly fell in love with the area, and the decision to relocate became clear.

Unfortunately, on January 19th, 2026, I received another call from the hospital. My uncle had passed away.

Another profound loss.

At that point, I had lost some of the most important people in my life. I had just moved to a new place—and suddenly, I felt like I had lost my reason for being there.

Or so I thought.

Instead of retreating, I leaned into the community. I began volunteering and created a fitness class for seniors that I now offer at a local senior center without charge. I took a job in the service industry. I continued to train, learn, and develop my skills.

I connected with other trainers—and even hired one myself.

I kept moving forward.

Then one day, I reconnected with Matt. He told me he was reopening a gym and invited me to see the new space at Harbour Fitness. When I walked in, I immediately knew this was something special. The space was bright, clean, and built with purpose. The people were passionate and welcoming.

I knew I had found the right place.

I picked up a couple of clients and officially began my journey as a fitness professional.

Not even two years ago, I was walking through one of the darkest periods of my life. I didn’t know where I was going or how I was going to get there.

But through it all, there was one constant that helped guide me forward:

My commitment to structured exercise.

Today, as a fitness professional, I have the opportunity to share that with others—to help people experience the physical and psychological benefits of fitness in their own lives as well as to help give those words real meaning-not just definitions.

If you are someone who is searching for direction, structure, or simply a place to begin—know that you don’t have to do it alone.

Whether your goal is to build strength, improve your health, or simply take that first step forward, I would be honored to be a part of your journey.

Reach out today to schedule your initial assessment, and let’s take that first step together.