For two years, I went to bed exhausted and woke up at 3am anyway. Not sometimes — every night. My doctor ran the tests. Everything came back "normal." I sat in that office feeling like I was the only person in the world who couldn't explain what was happening to her own body.
So I did what most of us do. I tried the pills. The powders. The ones my sister swore by, the ones with five-star reviews, the ones that promised to fix everything. Some did nothing. A few made my stomach worse than the problem they were supposed to solve.
I kept coming back to one thing: I didn't need something else to swallow. I needed relief somewhere I could actually feel it — in my shoulders, my neck, my legs, the places I could tell, every single night, exactly where the tension was sitting.
So I started mixing. Magnesium chloride first. Then arnica, for the soreness. Lavender, because by 9pm my body needed a signal, not another task. I tested it on myself for months before I ever called it a product.
Five ingredients. Nothing I couldn't pronounce. Nothing in it I wouldn't put on my own skin, every single night — because I do.
