Welcome.
Something brought you here.
Maybe you can't name it yet.
Maybe your body has been speaking
and no one has been listening.
Maybe your soul has been whispering
and the noise of the world
has been too loud.
You don't have to have the words.
You just have to be here.
That moment when the instructions run out.
When the book ends before the story does.
When everyone around you seems to know
a thing that nobody told you.
A missing step isn't a failure.
It's an invitation.
It's the gap where the light gets in.
At A Missing Step, we believe that the thing you've been searching for isn't as far away as it feels. Sometimes it just takes someone to sit with you in the doorway — seeing both sides — and help you find your footing.
Whatever brought you to this threshold —
you are welcome here.
Has lived on the threshold.
She knows what it is to stand in the doorway between two worlds — to see both sides, to feel the pull of each, and to find a way through.
She brought something back with her.
And she's here to share it.
Even just saying hello.
Not because I studied it in a classroom — though I have done that too — but because I have stood in the doorway between two worlds and found my way back.
I know what it feels like when your body is speaking a language nobody around you understands. I know what it feels like to not be believed. I know what it feels like to be so changed by an experience that the person you used to be no longer fits.
And I know — I know with every cell — that there is a way through.
That's why I'm here.
On a piece of land nestled along the North Carolina and Tennessee border near the small mountain town of Mountain City — a single queen yellow jacket wasp changed the entire course of my life.
I had gone into the old goat shed to retrieve something and disturbed the beginning of her nest. She stung my right pinky finger three times. She had her way with that finger.
I walked to find help, remembering an old remedy — tobacco mixed with saliva, something my grandmother swore by to draw out the venom. But on the way there, something shifted.
A whisper said: chew the Benadryl.
I thought it was silly. I did it anyway. That small act of listening to a whisper I did not yet understand may have bought me the few minutes I needed.
What followed was unlike anything I had words for. The burning started in my pinky finger and spread — up my arm, into the other arm, into my legs, my torso, everywhere. Everything was on fire.
I fought. I stumbled. I tried everything I could.
And then the darkness came.
I remember the blackness closing in. My arms lying lifeless at my sides. I willed my eyes to open. They would not.
And then — the smallest pinpoint of light. Far, far away.
There it is, I thought. My eyes are opening. I'm coming out of it.
But the light grew. And grew. And grew.
Two shadow figures stood at its edges — one on each side — watching. Waiting. It was then that I understood. I was not coming out of anything. I was going in.
The light was iridescent. Brilliant white. And strangely — it didn't hurt my eyes. Not like the sun.
As the light approached, the two figures came together as one. And I surrendered.
I know what true surrender feels like. Most people never do.
I was pulled through — and I saw what I can only describe as tears in the light. Curtains, moving aside. Other worlds. Other lives. Other times. Some closed to me. Others open.
I was vast. I was free. I was finally, completely at peace.
The stairs of the cabin. Moving under me. Upside down. A voice, urgent and insistent: "Come on Tosha, you have to help me move."
Blackness. Then a car, a bumpy mile-long mountain road. Blackness. Then a nurse, a needle, a hospital.
A doctor asking: "Does she normally talk like this?"
The answer was no.
I had been found unresponsive on the porch. Revived with a decades-old epinephrine injection. Rushed to the emergency room.
I was alive. I was also furious. That had been my out. And someone had pulled me back.
The hard part is coming back.
For years I didn't understand what had happened to me. I only knew I was different — profoundly, irrevocably different — and that nobody around me could see it.
The friends fell away. The doctors didn't believe me. I looked perfectly fine to them. That was the worst of it. Not the sleeplessness — and I did not sleep, not truly, for three years. Not the new sensitivities, the changed body, the double vision. Not the electronics that glitched in my presence or the electromagnetic spikes my Fitbit recorded in sync with the power cutting out.
The worst was not being believed.
It wasn't until I found IANDS — the International Association for Near Death Studies — and walked into a meeting in Asheville, North Carolina, that I finally sat in a room full of people who simply said: yes. We know. Us too. You're not crazy. Welcome.
Eight years. It takes as long as it takes to awaken.
I took my first Reiki class to try to understand the waves of energy moving through me. To flow with them rather than fight them.
What I discovered was something I hadn't expected: that by holding space for others — by truly listening, truly being present — the energy found its purpose. And I found mine.
This work is not always comfortable. The body does not always feel safe when change asks it to show up. But with courage and fortitude one can ascend to a higher conscious vibration — making the transition from being fused with your reality to differentiating and integrating a new normal.
A different way is not just possible. It is probable. If you are willing to put in the work.
If you have ever felt like you came back from something and nobody around you understood.
If your body has been speaking in a language the doctors can't translate.
If you are standing in a doorway between who you were and who you are becoming.
You are exactly where you need to be.
And I have been waiting for you.
Reiki is a complementary, gentle Japanese practice for relaxation and stress reduction that also promotes healing.
It works with the understanding that the body has its own profound intelligence — its own desire to return to balance, to ease, to wholeness. Sometimes it just needs a little help getting out of its own way.
A Reiki session is quiet. Unhurried. You remain fully clothed, simply resting, while gentle touch — or in remote sessions, focused intention — supports your body's own natural ability to restore itself.
Most people leave feeling deeply relaxed. Some notice shifts immediately. Others find the work unfolds quietly over days, weeks, or subsequent sessions. There is no wrong way to receive it.
Each offering is an invitation — not a commitment. You are always welcome to begin with a single session and see what feels right from there.
Schedule your session at
calendly.com/amissingstepReiki is a complementary, gentle Japanese practice for relaxation and stress reduction that also promotes healing — offered in support of, not as a replacement for, licensed medical or psychological care. Patosha is not a medical doctor and does not diagnose, prescribe or treat any condition.
This work operates on the understanding that each person carries within them a Soul's contract — a higher agreement between body, mind and spirit about what is ready to shift, what needs time, and what serves a deeper purpose we may not yet understand.
Results are as unique as the individual. Some people experience immediate shifts. For others the work unfolds gently over time. Occasionally something that feels like a miracle occurs — when body, mind and soul arrive together in genuine readiness for change.
What I can promise you is this: Presence. Integrity. And a genuine commitment to holding space for whatever wants to move.
Payment is due at the time of service. If you are navigating financial hardship and feel called to this work, please reach out and let's have a conversation.
Listen to your body. If it wants to knock — knock. There is no wrong time to reach out. No question too small. No story too complicated.
Just say hello. That's all it takes to begin.
Clicking Send Message will open your email app with your message pre-filled — simply hit send from there! Or email directly at amissingstep@gmail.com
Every great journey began with someone
deciding to take one small step.
This could be yours.