I have always prioritised having a beautiful home.
That’s never been the problem.

As an interior designer, creating calm, intentional spaces has been second nature to me for years.

My home has always been thoughtful, styled, organised - somewhere people walked into and immediately said, “Wow, it feels so peaceful here.”

And yet… I didn’t always feel peaceful.

What I noticed - long before I had language for trauma-informed somatic work or neuroaesthetics - was how deeply my body reacted to visual mess.

There was a season where I genuinely thought something was wrong with me.

I felt disconnected. Flat. Tired in a way sleep didn’t fix.
I’d get heart palpitations, or butterflies in my stomach for no apparent reason.
I would shut down emotionally randomly out of the blue.
My mind was busy, but my body felt miles away.
I couldn’t always feel joy properly — but I also couldn’t fully access sadness or rest either.

So once I started talking therapy I told my therapist I thought I was dissociated.
And honestly? In some ways, I absolutely was.

But what I didn’t realise at the time was this:
My nervous system had been stuck in survival mode for so long that I’d never learned how to listen to my body.

There was a season where, on paper, I looked like I was thriving, and by most metrics - I was!

I was leading projects. Supporting clients. Holding space for teams. Creating, designing, mentoring — doing meaningful work that mattered deeply to me.

And yet, behind the scenes, my body was quietly unravelling.

My shoulders were permanently tight. My breath sat high in my chest. I woke up tired even after a full night’s sleep. Brain fog crept in where clarity used to live. My nervous system felt constantly “on edge,” scanning for the next problem to solve, the next person to support, the next crisis to navigate - although I didn’t know any of the language to identify this, or even that this was ‘a thing’!

I told myself it was normal.

Helping everyone else rest taught me how little I was listening to my own body.

A few years ago, my work was all about creating calm, restful homes for other people. I helped clients from all walks of life — leaders of companies, kibbutz dwellers, friends, and family. My job was to help them feel rest and peace at home, through beauty, organisation, redesigning layouts, and choosing aesthetics that supported calm.

And I was so good at it! It made me happy.

Except… It wasn’t proving peace and calm for myself. I painted every inch of my home, curated every detail, and was intentional about every choice — all while my family grew around me.

I thought I was resting. Weekends off. Screen-free evenings. Holidays… sometimes. But I never felt restored. My energy stayed low. My mind constantly buzzed. My body remained tense. I didn’t realise it, but my nervous system was running on overdrive — and all the “rest” in the world couldn’t fix it.

It took hitting burnout to notice.