I didn’t take the slow road through acupuncture school.
I’m in a three year program compressed into two, starting in January and graduating alongside students who began months earlier in September. Same curriculum. Same clinical hours. Same expectations. Just less time to breathe between them.
Some days, I really feel that.
There are moments when I wish I’d chosen the full three years. More space to absorb. More room for rest. More time to let things land gently instead of stacking lesson on top of lesson and hoping my nervous system can keep up.
This pace is demanding. It’s mentally dense, physically tiring, and emotionally stretching in ways I don’t think you can fully understand until you’re inside it.
And still, I chose it.
I chose it because it means less time away from home. Less time away from Knowlesville, New Brunswick, the land and the rhythms that keep me grounded. The work of hauling water and firewood. The walks up Brighton Mountain. The kind of physical effort that steadies my mind without me having to think about it.
I chose it because it means I get to help people sooner. Sooner hands on bodies. Sooner listening. Sooner learning in real time, not just theory. Sooner being useful in a way that feels deeply aligned.
What makes this path complicated is that both things are true at once.
It is exhausting.
And it is meaningful.
There’s no part of this program that’s been watered down. No shortcuts. The same depth of study, the same clinical requirements, just compressed into a tighter container. It demands presence. It demands discipline. It demands a level of honesty with my body that this medicine is always asking for anyway.
In some ways, that’s the greatest teacher.
I’m learning how to sit with uncertainty instead of rushing to fix. How to listen longer. How to notice when pushing harder isn’t the answer. I’m learning that good care isn’t flashy or fast, it’s steady, consistent, and responsive.
This training is shaping how I move through the world, not just how I practice acupuncture.
It’s changing how I rest.
How I eat.
How I pace myself.
How I respond when my body asks for less.
I’m not learning acupuncture to be impressive.
I’m learning it to be trustworthy. To be someone women can land with when their bodies feel loud, confusing, or depleted. To understand what it means to live inside a system that asks a lot, and still find ways to support balance rather than burn out.
Some days, the pace feels relentless.
Other days, I remember why I chose this road.
It’s not perfect. It’s not gentle. But it’s honest. And it’s bringing me closer, faster, to the work I feel called to do.
That feels worth it.
If you’re living in a season where everything feels compressed, where your body is tired and your nervous system never quite gets to exhale, this is the kind of thing I work with in clinic.
I’m currently booking at the CCATCM student clinic, offering acupuncture, acupressure massage, cupping, and gua sha. Care is thoughtful, seasonal, and deeply attentive, with student clinic pricing that makes regular support accessible.
If your body needs steadiness more than intensity right now, I’d love to work with you.
A Gentle Note: I’m a student of Traditional Chinese Medicine, and this space reflects my learning as it unfolds. TCM is deep, layered, and complex, and I’m still finding my footing within it. I will refine my understanding over time. I will make mistakes. That’s part of doing this honestly. What I share here is my current perspective, shaped by my teachers, clinical training, lived experience, and my own biases. It’s not absolute, it’s evolving. I welcome thoughtful conversation, shared insight, and respectful correction along the way. I humbly welcome your insight. Let’s learn together. You can always find me over on Instagram to keep the conversation going.