I spent twenty-six years in corporate HR. The real job was reading what people needed before they could name it — coaching leaders to be better supports for their teams, building the relationships executives didn't want to build themselves, and seeing ahead on what would break. HR became the catch-all — ten different functions, not enough resources, and a home life waiting on the other side of every day. I was good at it. I was also slowly running myself into the ground.

I tried to bring nervous system work into the HR space — neuroscience-informed coaching, executive training, the whole thing. I knew the body was part of the equation. I just couldn't quite get there myself.

Then a hurricane hit my town. My team called to check on me, the two people who reported to me. That was it. What I got from everyone else was "When will you be back online?"

I was in shock. I was relieved my family was safe. I had survivor's guilt because other people lost more. I was watching my neighborhood show up for itself in ways I'd never seen. And the only message my work sent was a deadline.

I stopped. I was scared shitless. I stopped anyway.

A week later, I went on a weekend trip with my closest friends. Annual thing. I told them I had nothing left. They said come anyway. The moment I got there, every bad habit I'd ever had came back. I forgot every single thing I knew about how humans work. I couldn't even talk to the people who knew me best.

The retreat center had one Spinal Flow practitioner. I'd been researching the modality for months — I was already planning to train in it eventually — but I did not expect that anything could reach me in the state I was in.

I had five sessions over three days.

I went from not being able to speak to my closest friends to signing up to run a 5K. My friends watched the whole thing — the sessions, the ups, the downs, the something-coming-back-online. They couldn't believe it. Honestly, I couldn't either.

That's when I knew this was the work I was going to do.

What I found when I went deeper

I was also heavy in perimenopause at the time. My food addiction was taking over due to work and life stress. I was a former athlete/dancer, yet I was in pain getting up from a chair. I used to joke that I coach people out of these states all day long — why couldn't I do this for myself?

Now I could.

Spinal Flow got me there. And the more I learned — through massage, bodywork, perimenopause research, and what my friends kept telling me about carrying too much, being eternally exhausted, not even knowing what help to ask for — the more I knew there had to be more underneath all of it.

I hit on what was working: paying attention to the nervous system.

It runs everything in your body. Your heart doesn't beat without it. You don't breathe without it. No wonder we can't breathe sometimes. We're stuck reacting, fighting for our lives, living in a world that wasn't built for humans.

What I built

Axis & Veil is what I needed and couldn't find — care that meets the nervous system at the root, with bodywork, movement, and multiple tools layered in so the progress is foundational AND the relief starts day 1.

I work with women in perimenopause, neurodivergent adults, athletes whose recovery is the bottleneck, and the humans who hold everything together for everyone else. The thread connecting all of them: a nervous system that has been carrying more than anyone — including the person inside it — has fully acknowledged.

If that's you, I'd be honored to work with you.

— Jillian