Cycle of Life Chiropractic - Dr. Alexa Elniski

Cycle of Life Chiropractic - Dr. Alexa Elniski Holistic chiropractic and healing to optimize every natural Cycle of Life.
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03/18/2026

I didn’t feel strong when my best friend suddenly died.

Then when my sweet rescue kitty followed her a month later…
I felt like collapsing.

So I did.

Something inside me knew the only way I might feel remotely “okay” was to get outside.

Take my shoes and socks off.
Collapse on the ground.
Barefeet on the grass.
Shed my tears.
Give it all to Mother Earth.

No strategy.
No performance.
Just letting the Earth hold me when I couldn’t hold myself.

And somehow, that tiny instinct carried me through parts of life I didn’t think I could survive.

I see so many people trying to “out-think” their grief.
And I get it because same sometimes.

But grief doesn’t stop in your mind.
It’s in your body. It’s in your energy.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is take your body somewhere it feels safe enough to soften.

For me that was the ground.
Open air.
Sunshine if I’m lucky, but I’ve done this in the rain, too.

If you’re in a grief storm right now…you don’t have to force strength.

You can borrow it from the Earth.

Follow me for more real, body-led ways to move through grief. 🤍

03/17/2026

When my Dad died, no one warned me my body would change.

Not just emotionally.
Physically.
Physiologically.

Things like my appetite, immune system, posture…even my hypermobility.
Or should I say “instability” - both physical and mental.

5 ways grief has shown up in my body:

1. My taste and appetite changed.
For weeks after Dad died I had a metallic, bitter taste in my mouth. This is common due to high levels of cortisol and stress. Even now, hunger comes and goes unpredictably.

2. My immune system took a hit.
I’ve gotten sick a lot more these past months. One cold bleeding into the next.
There’s real physiology behind this.
Grief keeps the body in a chronic stress response, and elevated cortisol can suppress immune cell activity, making it harder to fight infections.

3. Bone deep fatigue.
This last weekend I got sick and slept almost 30 hours.

And honestly? I felt SO much better after.

For a while I leaned on caffeine to recreate the energy I used to have…until I stopped and realized my body was simply more tired than it used to be.
Grief changed my baseline.
Now I have to plan for more rest.

4. My hypermobility got worse.
Actual physical instability. My joints crack constantly.
I know strength training helps keep me stable, but between fatigue, work, and life…finding that energy has been hard.
Elevated cortisol and increased fatigue worsens connective tissue looseness - and we don’t talk about this enough.

5. My posture changed. 😭
I used to pride myself on my ballerina posture…
And now I catch myself rounding forward - shoulders rolled in, head forward - like my body is instinctively protecting my heart.

This protective posture feeds directly into hypermobility and joint pain. I have to consciously remind myself to grow tall, shoulders down and back.
And it’s tiring.

Grief is emotional.

But it’s also deeply physical.

I’m still learning how to care for this new version of my body.

Work in progress.

Aren’t we all?

If grief has shown up in your body too, welcome to the club ❤️‍🩹

Follow along - I’m creating resources for us soon. 🤍

03/14/2026

Grief is sneaky.

Losing someone you love and then having to go about your life is something else.

The world doesn’t slow down.

Even when your inner world haults.

The same day I learned by Dad was dying, I also totaled my car. Happy Easter 2025.

Follow along as we learn to ride the grief waves together 🌊

03/06/2026

I’m probably going to lose some followers for saying this…but growing up religious made me terrified of death.

I was raised in the Eastern Catholic Church.

When I was a kid, I truly believed that when people died they could go to hell and suffer for eternity.

So when my grandpa was dying of metastatic cancer, I wasn’t just sad.

I was panicked.

I remember being a little girl thinking I would give him half my liver if it meant he wouldn’t die.

Because death didn’t just mean losing him.

It meant the possibility of eternal punishment.

That belief made death feel like the most horrifying thing imaginable. Even if I got into heaven - what if my loved ones didn’t?

Years later (but still my formative years) my Dad told me something that changed my life:

“Hell isn’t real. And telling children they’ll burn forever if they don’t behave is child abuse.”

It cracked something open in my young mind.

Because the moment I stopped believing death was a gateway to potential eternal suffering…I stopped being afraid of it.

What if death isn’t the enemy?

What if the real hell is the one we create here in Earth, through fear, shame, and control?

The deeper I’ve gone into grief work, the more I’ve seen this:
When we stop fearing what happens after death, we finally learn how to live.

Our nervous systems physically change. Our amygdala starts to perceive less danger. We expand our capacity for gratitude and love and joy and pleasure.

If you want more honest conversations about grief, death, and healing without spiritual fear tactics…

Follow along. 👋 🌊

We’re allowed to talk about this.

03/05/2026

It didn’t.

When I lost Attalia, the grief was relentless.
Crying every 20 minutes.
In my car.
Between patients.
In the shower.
For months.

At 6 weeks I sat in my therapists office sobbing, convinced something was wrong with me.

Six weeks.
Why wasn’t I getting any better?

She gently told me:
Six weeks is not a long time for grief.

Now I look back and almost laugh.
Six weeks was nothing…compared to a lifetime in a new reality without her.

I don’t cry every 20 minutes anymore.
But honestly? I probably could.

The difference is - now I schedule my breakdowns.

Yes. On purpose.

I make space for them.

Because when I tried to compartmentalize it…
When I tried to “live over here” and not “live there”…
It took WAY more energy to suppress it all the time.

A friend once told me they admire what I share online - but they could never “live there all the time”.

I get that.

No one wants to live in upset grief all the time.

But here’s the truth:
When you give grief intentional space, it stops hijacking your life.

The tears don’t mean you’re broken.
They mean you loved deeply.

And grief isn’t something you “get over”.
It’s something you learn to carry.

As deep as you love -
is as deep as you will grieve.

Nothing was wrong with me at 6 weeks.

And nothing is wrong with you.

If you’re learning how to live in a new reality after loss, follow along. I’m building resources for you. 🌊

03/02/2026

We aren’t antisocial - we’re exhausted.

Grief is not just emotional.
It’s neurological.

Every loss forces your brain to rewire from expected reality to actual reality.

That takes energy.

When your anticipated future vision shatters, your brain has to update to actual reality.

That updating process?
It’s metabolically expensive.
It’s dysregulating.
It’s exhausting.

And most of us 🤦‍♀️ 🙋‍♀️ are conditioned to look fine while it’s happening.

To not burden anyone.
To keep performing.
To keep achieving.
To keep being the strong one.

So isolation starts to feel like the only place you can finally exhale.

If you’re an over-achiever, a helper, the one who “holds it together” - being alone may be the only time your nervous system feels safe enough to soften.

But here’s the quiet truth:

Your grief isn’t meant to isolate you.
It’s meant to reorganize you.

We are being mass-initiated right now.
Into impermanence.
Into mortality.
Into truth.

What if the thing we’ve been taught to hide - our raw, unfiltered reality - is actually the bridge back to each other?

What if the “New Earth” isn’t perfection…but nervous systems that don’t have to pretend anymore?

You don’t have to move through this alone.

If you’re grieving way too much, way too young…and you want to become more alive than before…

Follow along.

I’m building spaces where you don’t have to perform healing - you can regulate in real time, in community.

Resources are coming soon.
For now, just know: the exhaustion makes sense.

And there’s nothing wrong with you for craving alone time while your brain learns a new reality.

You’re not anti-social.
You’re integrating.

🫖 ☕️

Address

492 E 13th Avenue, Suite 104
Eugene, OR
97405

Opening Hours

Monday 10am - 5pm
Tuesday 10am - 5pm
Wednesday 10am - 5pm
Thursday 10am - 5pm
Friday 10am - 5pm

Telephone

+15415135335

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