The Medicine of Sisterhood: Why You Were Never Meant to Do This Alone
I used to believe I had to hold everything on my own. That if I just tried hard enough—pushed, smiled, supported everyone else—I could manage the ache quietly, the chaos gracefully. For a long time, being the firstborn daughter taught me that love meant carrying burdens, fixing things, and never letting the cracks show.
But when I was in the deepest part of my grief, caregiving for my parents and slowly losing them both… something inside me began to unravel. Not in a destructive way—though it felt like it at first—but in a sacred, necessary way. The kind of unraveling that makes room for the truth.
The truth was: I couldn’t do it all alone. And more importantly, I wasn’t meant to.
Sisterhood saved me.
Not in a dramatic, performative kind of way. But in the way a soft hand on your back reminds you you’re still breathing. In the way a text at 2 a.m. saying “I’ve got you” can feel like oxygen. In the way someone holding space for your rage, your grief, your full truth, without trying to fix you—can feel like holy ground.
There’s one moment that stands out. I remember sitting on the floor of my kitchen, sobbing because I had just made the hardest decision of my life—to leave my marriage. It wasn’t a decision made out of spite or hate. It was a choice to stop abandoning myself. And the first person I called wasn’t family. It was a sister—a soul sister, someone who had walked alongside me for years. She didn’t ask me if I was sure. She didn’t offer advice. She just breathed with me. She whispered, “I know. And I’m here.”
That moment rewired something in me.
Sisterhood became the medicine I didn’t know I needed. It was the antidote to isolation, to hyper-independence, to the lie that my strength was only valid if it came without need.
And now? That medicine is what I offer others. It’s what birthed Rooted in Sisterhood, my sacred space for women to gather, be witnessed, and rise—together. It’s what I infuse into my coaching, into every circle I hold, into the way I teach yoga and guide others through the path of remembrance and reclamation.
Because the truth is, we were never meant to do this alone. Your healing was always meant to be witnessed. Your rage was always meant to be held. Your joy was always meant to be amplified by the laughter and celebration of others who get it.
Sisterhood isn’t just a luxury. It’s soul medicine.
And it’s yours to claim.
With roots and reverence,
That Witch Karena
