Hey Neighbors,
You taught me about mutual aid, community care, harm reduction, unions, and what it looks like when teachers are doing the literal most. You helped me make sure folks felt seen, supported, and as safe as possible. You encouraged me to show up and resist. You asked me to do what I could — what I didn't even know I could — for our most at-risk neighbors.
And I did. We did.
That work isn't finished. I see now it will never be finished. But the peak intensity of federal occupation has shifted into something longer, slower, more sustained. A crisis that asks something different of us now — not the sprint, but the long walk. And for the long walk, we need to be able to go home.
I mean that literally.
You're out here giving everything. Organizing, healing, building, showing up for your neighbors in ways that take a real toll. And when you finally head home at the end of the day, there's this quiet hope: when I get there, I'm going to rest. I'm going to cook something good. I'm going to finally dig my desk out from under the chaos.
But then you open the door.
And the space meets you with its own kind of overwhelm. The thing you were going to do gives way — not because you're lazy or broken or bad at this, but because your home isn't set up to support you yet. It's one more thing asking something of you instead of giving something back.
I've spent over 25 years helping people heal their relationship with their spaces. First as a professional organizer, and later through space healing and coaching, it was always my hope that working with me would give clients back the space they need to do what they actually mean to do with their lives. I didn't market myself that way. I just longed for it.
It's a little absurd, honestly. The idea that my purpose might be to help people heal so fully that they stumble into their own purpose and go do it? Beautiful, yes, but I only recently realized something I'm a little embarrassed it took this long to see: I never once thought to come find you. The helpers. The teachers. The organizers and activists and artists and community builders. The ones who have been showing up for everyone else. It never occurred to me to knock on your door and say — hey, if home isn't the supportive environment you need it to be, I want to help with that. So this is me, knocking. Clear the Chaos is my 10-step intro to Space Healing, and this new era is specifically for you — the change-makers, the neighbors, the people who are in it for the long haul and need their homes to start being in it with them.
Because when your space supports you, you have more to give. Not because you owe more, but because you actually get to experience the life you're working so hard to protect for everyone else.
This is my gift to the movement. To you. Sliding-scale pricing, live support, and a method built for the kind of brain and life you actually have.
If home isn't the supportive environment you need it to be, I hope you'll join us for Clear the Chaos.
With love and gratitude, Christy
P.S. Need a coupon code for sliding-scale pricing? Just text me at 615-375-6673 and I'll get you sorted. No explanation needed.
As always, we return to this — let us prepare to travel lightly through what lies ahead by releasing attachments to things and to old wounds. Until next time.
