Of Love, Letting Go, and the Beautiful Things We Never Saw Coming

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If you had told me a few years ago that I would be running a restorative day spa and retreat on two acres in the Finger Lakes, surrounded by family, nature, and a rather ambitious collection of beautiful things, I probably would have laughed.

But life has a remarkable way of leading us somewhere we never intended to go.

And sometimes, what unfolds is more extraordinary than anything we could have imagined for ourselves.

Sometimes it arrives through joy. Sometimes through heartbreak.

And occasionally through broken pipes, peeling wallpaper, and a husband who sees possibilities you haven't quite caught up with yet.

 

Where It Began

When my father passed away in August 2019, the world as I knew it changed.

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In the years that followed, my family and I found ourselves caring for the home and property he left behind.

What began as a responsibility slowly became something neither of us could have imagined.

 

A restoration.

 

Not the glamorous kind, mind you.

The kind involving construction dust, unexpected repairs, questionable decisions, and the occasional moment of

wondering what we'd gotten ourselves into.

 

I could see what a space might become. My husband, Eric, somehow knew how to make it happen.

I would dream something up, and he would begin figuring out how to build it.

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And when he suggested that I move my work closer to home, I looked at him and said:

“Are you crazy? That's a terrible idea.”

 

Two years later, I had to admit something.

He was right.

 

The Hardest Goodbye

For 24 years, I had poured my heart into A Touch of Tranquility Wellness Spa in Corning.

It was never simply a business to me.

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It was a place filled with extraordinary people, meaningful conversations, laughter, tears, and the kind of relationships that become part of your life.

I loved what I had built.

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Which made recognizing that it was time for something different incredibly difficult.

I remember sitting beside Seneca Lake in September 2024 and crying the kind of tears that seem to come from

somewhere much deeper than the moment itself.

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Not because I had failed.

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But because I had succeeded at building something I loved, and still knew it was time to let it go.

There is a special kind of grief in saying goodbye to something beautiful.

Especially when it's still thriving.

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I was exhausted. I had been carrying more responsibility and pressure than I realized, and somewhere beneath all that effort was a quiet longing for more room to live, create, and simply be.

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I didn't want to abandon everything I had learned, loved, or built.

I wanted to discover what it might become under different conditions.

 

And Then Came a Word

I began searching for a word that could hold everything I was feeling.

Restoration. Renewal. Reclamation.

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Not returning to the past, exactly.

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Something more like making room for life to unfold differently. 

To untwist the heaviness.

 

And there it was.

 

Ripristinare.

 

An Italian word associated with restoring, renewing, and bringing something back into being.

I knew immediately.

 

It wasn't simply the name of a new business.

It was the beginning of a new relationship with my work, my surroundings, and myself.

 

On November 1, 2024, Ripristinare Retreat opened its doors.

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And somehow, the home we had been restoring became the place where I could begin a restoration of my own.

 

The Work Beneath the Work

My journey in the world of wellness began in 2001, and throughout my career in esthetics, massage,

and restorative care, one thing has remained constant.

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I've never been particularly interested in treating everyone the same way.

I don't see a person as a collection of problems waiting to be corrected.

I see a whole human being.

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Someone with a history, a way of moving through life, a relationship with their body, and ways of adapting that have made sense

within the conditions they've experienced.

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My work has always been curious about that.

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But the deeper reason took me much longer to recognize.

As a child, I struggled with a painful skin condition that changed how I saw myself.

For years, I believed I might need to look different before I could be beautiful, lovable, or fully accepted.

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I could spend my years hiding, waiting for the day I might finally become someone the world considered acceptable.

Someone who fit the image of what society had decided was beautiful.

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Or I could begin loving and caring for the person I already was.

I chose the latter.

 

It wasn't a decision that erased every insecurity or made life suddenly easy.

 

But it changed the conditions under which I was willing to live.

To love myself just as I am.

 

I no longer had to wait for perfection or permission to participate in my own life.

I didn't know it then, but that choice would quietly become the philosophical foundation of everything I was building.

 

Love and care do not have to wait for correction.

Decades later, through thousands of hours of attentive touch, professional observation, and relationships with the people who entrusted themselves to my care, that understanding began to take a more defined form.

 

I call it Embodied Restorative Orientation (ERO).

It is a philosophy and emerging clinical reasoning framework grounded in curiosity, receiving, and the understanding that restoration need not mean returning to an earlier version of ourselves.

 

Sometimes we recover something we've lost.

 

Sometimes we discover the joy of fully inhabiting what is already here.

 

And sometimes, under different conditions, something entirely new becomes possible.

That possibility continues to fascinate me.

 

A Place for the Life We're Living

Ripristinare is where these ideas become tangible.

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In the warmth of a treatment room. The feel of natural linen.

The quiet beauty of botanical ritual.

The thoughtful arrangement of a space.

The freedom to create each session around the person who arrives rather than a predetermined sequence.

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But restoration isn't the only thing worth honoring.

There is joy here, too.

 

Celebration. Motherhood. Partnership. Beauty. Healing. Acceptance. Curiosity. Laughter. The simple, extraordinary pleasure of being alive.

 

Sometimes we come to care because life has been difficult.

And sometimes because life is beautiful, and we want to make a little more room to enjoy it.

Both belong here.

 

And Then There's Eric

I could tell you that Ripristinare was born from my vision, but that would only be half the story.

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Eric has built, repaired, carried, measured, reconsidered, and patiently brought more of my ideas into existence than I can count.

He's also reminded me, more than once, that I am allowed to stop working and enjoy what we've created.

 

A lesson I am still practicing.

Every. Single. Day.

 

His contribution isn't simply the walls, the rooms, or the countless details that make this place possible.

 

It's the steady belief that there was room for a different kind of life here, even before I could see it.

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And the people who have joined me along the way—my family, my clients, my teachers, and the remarkable individuals who continue to share their lives with me—have shaped this work just as profoundly.

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I may have founded Ripristinare, but I certainly didn't arrive here alone.

And for that, I am deeply grateful.

 

What We've Really Built

When I look around Ripristinare today, I see much more than a retreat spa.

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I see my father's home continuing to hold life, not simply returned to what it once was,

but becoming something more than any of us could have imagined.

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I see Eric's hands in the spaces I once dreamed of.

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I see 24 years of relationships, memories, and experiences that didn't end when I passed A Touch of Tranquility into new hands. Instead,

the business found a new chapter, growing into its own unique expression under new ownership,

while everything it had given me continued to live on in ways I could never have imagined.

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I see a little girl who once wondered whether she could be loved exactly as she was,

now welcoming others into a place where they need not become anything different before receiving care.

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And I see a future that neither of us could have planned.

Or, quite frankly, even fully imagined.

 

There are still projects to finish, ideas to explore, and an ever-growing list of things I hope Eric will help me build.

And perhaps that's part of the beauty.

The story isn't finished.

Neither are we.

 

Restoration isn't always about returning to what was.

Sometimes it's about discovering what can become possible next.

And sometimes, it begins with an idea you were absolutely certain was terrible.

 

 

 

Welcome to Ripristinare.

I'm so glad you're here.

 

 

 

With love, warmth, and immense gratitude,

 

Christina
 

Founder, Ripristinare Retreat Day Spa

Creator, Embodied Restorative Orientation