I truly believed my life was over.

This isn’t just talk: I had just been taken out of work because a committee had determined I was in danger of dying.

My nights were plagued by physical pain, like every cell in my body was soaking in acid, and if I could go to sleep, I’d writhe in delirious nightmares. Days were filled with moment after moment of my neurotransmitter-starved brain screaming at me to die. At my lowest, I was deployed to Korea working as a Sexual Assault Care Provider and Battalion Surgeon for the US Army, struggling with experiences that later earned me the dual diagnoses of MDD and PTSD. I’d gone through dozens of medications, therapies, and even hospitalization.

But there was one day when I was walking the streets of Seoul with my husband–very slowly because of exhaustion and pain–and we began to explore tea-houses.

From tiny three-room enclosures hidden away in gardens down ancient, winding cobblestone alleyways, where we sat on cushions on the floor…

To chic, modern cafes with multiple stories and unusual tea-inspired desserts just invented yesterday…

And there was a moment, when I looked over at my husband, with the winter stinging my cheeks and the tea still stirring in my blood, and realized that for the first time I could remember, my mind was quiet, and I was…happy? I began to cry at that realization.

I’m Jen Finelli, MD, SAMFE. Bottom line, dear traveler, I’m not going to play you with promises and dreams. I’ve suffered too much, and I have too much medical training, to claim to sell “cures” here.

But I do believe I can offer you the same thing I found on my pilgrimage through Seoul:

…a moment of rest.

…a moment to take a deep breath.

…and a moment to pause from battling the dragons.

Please choose your own rest below, and even if you can’t afford any healthy tea right now,

    Your Lovely Teas
    Your have no teas"Tea"reat yourself : )