EFT Tapping for Audacious Action
Twenty years ago, Hurricane Katrina hit Louisiana — and my life, despite never having stepped foot in the state, changed forever.
I had been trapped in a marriage that I wanted to leave, that I NEEDED to leave, for the sake of both my sanity and my life… but I was scared of starting over, scared I was making things up about how bad things really were, scared of telling my Irish Catholic parents I was leaving… scared, scared, scared.
When an incident finally gave me the kick in the ass I needed to actually choose the courage to leave, I made my way down to Louisiana, where my parents were volunteering with the Red Cross, providing services to residents of NOLA and the surrounding area, and joined them in their endeavors.
Maybe I should be more embarrassed to admit this, but I hadn’t given much thought to what I was going to do when I got down there, other than a vague “I’m going to help out.” I thought I was just going down there to give myself space to regroup. To find comfort with my family and brace myself for the steps I would have to take when I got home.
And while I did find those things, the gift I didn’t realize I would find down there was healing through service. I may have been going through the worst time of my life, but I still had a home. I still had a family I knew was safe. I still had a job. Witnessing the resilience of people who had lost everything and who were still committed to taking care of one another as they picked their lives back up changed something in me. It gave me perspective and helped me stick with the decision to leave him, even though I was still terrified.
It also taught me that even on my worst days, I still had something to offer others — whether it was a kind word, a few moments to acknowledge and listen to someone’s story without judgment, or spending time organizing a makeshift pharmacy in a mosque so first responders could focus on caring for survivors.
After two weeks, I returned home and spent the next six years moving on, completing grad school, learning to love again, and enjoying a career as a therapist in the county corrections system. But there was something missing. I couldn’t stop thinking about the camaraderie of shared purpose I had felt working alongside the National Guard, other volunteers from around the country, and the residents of Louisiana. My life was good, but I still felt hollow — so when a tipsy happy hour ended with my best friend and I joking around about joining the military together, I woke up the next day and realized I wasn’t laughing.
I was en route to my first duty station and flipping through a Peoplemagazine when I came across an article on Top Veteran Charities. There it was: Team Rubicon, a disaster response team made up of a rag-tag group of combat Veterans who had fundraised for medical supplies before mobilizing to Haiti after the catastrophic 2010 earthquake.
I remember thinking, “You gotta be fucking kidding me… you mean I could’ve just volunteered for something like this instead of turning my whole life upside down!?” before writing down the organization’s name in the Notes section of my iPhone and moving on to whatever celebrity gossip was next.
Six years later, I was newly married, back in Maryland, and had been out of the Army for about six months when a disastrous flood wrecked parts of Ellicott City. My transition from the military had been rougher than I expected, and although I was very happy in my new marriage, I was struggling to balance all the changes and feeling purposeless and depressed. I had signed up to volunteer with Team Rubicon a few years earlier but hadn’t been able to while still on active duty, so when I got the email asking for volunteers, I signed up right away.
The second I stepped foot on the FOB (Forward Operating Base — TR uses a lot of military terms), something in my chest settled. The moment I slipped my feet back into the combat boots that had carried me through Hawaii, Afghanistan, and Ft. Drum, I started to come alive for the first time in nearly a year.
The days we spent mucking out homes to help residents rebuild gave me purpose again. And the hours my fellow volunteers and I spent sitting around a campfire at the end of the day — laughing, crying, and sharing our origin stories while processing the day — told me I was home.
For me, it’s never been about waiting for the perfect moment. It’s about stepping up, even when things are messy, and trusting that each step makes me — and us — a lantern for others. That’s the light I carry. And my mission is to pass it on, so more women carry it too. Together, we change the landscape into one that is more inclusive, compassionate, and brave.
“We don’t wait for the perfect moment — we light the way, together.”
What I’ve learned — again and again — is this:
Hopelessness shifts when we choose even one small action.
It doesn’t have to be world-changing; any step counts. A step is a start, and a start is the beginning of change.
Hopelessness shifts when we choose even one small action.
It doesn’t have to be world-changing; any step counts. A step is a start, and a start is the beginning of change.
So if you’re feeling stuck, my invitation is this: pause, notice what’s true for you today, and then choose one action — small or audacious — that brings you closer to the impact you want to make.
✨ Whether you’re feeling stuck or just ready for a boost, I’ve got a tap for you. It’s only five minutes — and when you’re done, I’d love to hear what action it sparked for you. I’m compiling a list to inspire others, and your step might be the one someone else needs.
Remember: it doesn’t have to be world-changing to matter. Any step counts. I’d love to hear yours.
