I used to teach packed classes.
The kind with waitlists.
The kind where members would line up early, smile wide, say “this class is my therapy.”
And honestly? It was mine too — until the very people who were supposed to support me made me feel disposable.
Enter Josh: Mr. Abuse of Power
Josh, the general manager, pretends to play it cool — but he’s panicked behind the scenes.
He knew the studio was thriving under my classes.
He also knew I was vulnerable — sick, exhausted, unsupported.
So what did he do?
He fired me.
For no reason other than another chance for him to feel empowered by removing anyone slightly smarter than him.
And get this: he didn’t even do it right.
The termination letter he gave me? Backdated. No signed agreement.
It was written in a scramble, like someone trying to cover their tracks before corporate caught wind.
He thought I’d go quietly.
He didn’t realize he was firing someone who had receipts — and a voice.
Rob & Trista: The “We Love You” Lie
Let’s talk about the betrayal behind the betrayal.
Rob and Trista.
Both said I was “one of the best.”
Said that “we were friends.”
Said they “loved me.”
Until I needed them.
Then they turned their backs so fast I got whiplash.
Trista even pretended to be confused, like she “didn’t know what was happening.”
Girl, you knew.
You watched it happen — and did nothing.
They pretended to be friends, when really? They were just career opportunists in boring leggings.
HR: Human Resources or Houdini?
I reached out to HR with every detail.
How I was being mistreated.
How I was working through illness.
How Josh fired me in an unprofessional, legally sketchy way.
They responded with deflection. When I pushed back with straight facts , they went dead silent.
Weeks turned to months.
No answers.
No support.
No accountability.
It was like they were hoping I’d disappear.
Except I didn’t.
I’m still here.
And now I’m writing.
The Bigger Picture
This wasn’t just a bad day at work.
This was a complete collapse — mentally, physically, emotionally.
The place that promised “wellness” made me sick.
The people who promised “team” left me alone.
And the institution that promised “community” discarded me like I was disposable.
This is why I created Stretch & Spill.
Because I know I’m not the only one.
There are so many of us — teachers, trainers, front-desk angels — who gave everything and got crushed.
Who were told “you’re family here” until some inexperienced dude walks in just to take the soul out of something.
This Post Is For You If…
• You’ve been ghosted by HR
• You’ve taught through sickness to protect your job
• You’ve been fired by someone pretending to be your friend
• You’ve ever been gaslit by a workplace that claimed to care
• You’re done playing nice with toxic wellness culture
What’s Next?
I’ll be spilling the full timeline.
I’ve got screenshots, email chains, testimonials from members who saw what happened.
And I won’t just be naming names.
I’ll be naming the game — the way toxic culture hides behind stretchy smiles and scented candles.
Because silence protects abusers.
But this? This post is my mic check.
And I’m just getting started.
Stretch & Spill 