Being an adult child of divorce, I fully understand what divorce does not to the family, but to the children involved. I know what it is like to experience parental alienation in the eyes of children, and I know what it feels like to feel torn between households once the divorce is completed.

Being disabled as much as I try I don't feel like I fit in usually. People look at me differently and I feel left out most of the time. In church, in family and even with friends. I can not change this but have learned all I can do is be me. It hurts to not be accepted or included but I learned to thank God anyways and live each day the best I can. God provides the people I need and knows whats best for me.

Ever since I was born, I have had ealth challenges. I was born with 2 holes in my heard and 2 bones in my head were grown together. Doctors didn't know if I would be able to see or how much I would see. My Mom was informed that I was a runt and wouldn't survive. After many, many surgeries I now am diabetic and blind. After loosing my sight in High School I went for rehabilitation to learn life skills. Being blind has challenges of its own as far as things being accessible medically since there aren't very many products that talk or that have braille. So, I have to find differant ways to accomplish things such as taking my medication or testing my blood sugar. Also after losing my sight, I had trouble sleeping. I now take medication for that but still don't sleep like I use too. Through all these challenges it has made me a stronger person and I know things happen for a reason.

I’ve experienced various kinds of grief. The kind that has you saying goodbye to loved ones that have passed, the kind that asks you to mourn people who are still alive, to sit with spiritual disillusionment, and to reckon with endings that don’t offer clean closure. Divorce and breakups can fracture shared meaning, routines, and support systems. Community loss can leave you questioning where you belong and whether it’s safe to trust again. Losing a loved one, a community, a spiritual home, a marriage, or long-term relationship can feel disorienting because what’s gone isn’t a person—it’s belonging, identity, and the life you imagined living inside that space. Finding meaning after this kind of loss is about allowing grief to be honest and layered. It’s about honoring what was real, naming what caused harm, and slowly rebuilding a sense of connection that’s grounded in truth rather than nostalgia.

I stopped treating my body like a problem to manage and started relating to it with care. . I spent years cycling through extremes: eating reactively, sleeping inconsistently, pushing through exhaustion, then wondering why I felt disconnected and depleted. What changed everything was learning how to slow down and notice my patterns without judgment. I can now recognize hunger, fullness, and emotional cues. Sleep became a priority once I understood how deeply it affects mood, focus, and regulation. Healthy routines and daily wellness stopped being about productivity and started being about support and creating rhythms that actually fit my life.

In my life I have had to create boundaries to protect myself from being hurt. This created loniliness in my life. In the end it was the best choice to set boundaries for my own good and helped me to forgive those that had hurt me through things said or done. Now I want to help others learn to set boundaries to protect themselves from the hurt of others and to forgive.

Like everyone, I know the stress of finances. Because of this, I try to save everywhere I can by looking for coupons, finding the best deal, setting a budget for certain things, and trying to earn extra money to save for upcoming expenses or an emergency fund. Being on disability doesn't make this easy sometimes, even though my husband works a full time job. Though there is so much uncertainty in the economy, I have to pray and trust God with my finances. Trying to have the mindset that everything is in God's hands. He just wants me to manage everything wisely.

Sometimes I just have a bad day. A day that I feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and nothing seems to go right. Some days it may just be little things that add up to make me feel stressed or a conflict with others. I've learned it's okay to have a bad day as long as I can learn from the bad day and reset to have a better day tomorrow.

Divorce wasn’t the end of my story, but it was the moment I had to stop living on autopilot. I grieved the time I invested, the future I imagined, and the version of myself who tried to make everything work at her own expense. What followed was clarity and clarity created space. Space to reflect, to tell the truth, and to listen to what I needed instead of what I’d been trained to prioritize. I soon realized that not only was reinvention possible but a transition into my authentic self. Reinvention didn’t mean starting over from scratch. It meant reclaiming myself with honesty. Learning who I was outside of roles, expectations, and survival mode. Letting go of urgency and choosing alignment instead. This is the work I support others through now—holding space for reflection, grief, and rebuilding without pressure to rush or reinvent perfectly. Midlife isn’t a crisis. It’s an invitation to live the next chapter with intention

I was faced with making a decision about an unexpected pregnancy twice in my life. Once at 17 and again at 25. The circumstances were different each time. At 17, my parents chose for me and at 25, I had to go through my own process to choose what was best for me. Both times, the choice was to terminate the pregnancy. It was the right decision for me each time. Both experiences had significant influence on my life and choices moving forward. I had to go through different grieving and healing processes for each termination. One thing I would have benefited from is someone to talk to who had been there.

MOTIVATION IS HARD!!! I know sometimes getting started is the hardest part in getting anything done! At times it's so hard to get moving, even at a snail's pace, but once someone else is involved.... BAM, I'm moving at Mach 5 to get it done! Maybe you just want someone to talk to while you fold laundry. Maybe it would be helpful if someone is just sitting quietly while you do something really hard emotionally, like going through belongings of a loved one after they have passed. There are numerous situations where having someone to just BE with you can be helpful and I'd be more than honored to be that for you. We can talk about anything, or nothing, whatever you'd like and whatever might help you get through whatever task it is that you are having trouble starting. I get it. I have nearly earned a Master's Degree in procrastination! I'm learning little tricks to get myself moving, the top of which is the Body Double... someone to be with while I do the thing I don't want to do.

Midlife can provide and opportunity to strip away who you were taught to be and ask who you actually are. For me, that included my relationship with sexuality—how it had been lost in the rubble of relationships that didn't make it safe to show up authentically Renewed sexual energy didn’t come from trying to be younger or more performative. It came from honesty. From reclaiming my body as my own. From remembering pleasure, agency, and authenticity. Sexuality became less about being seen and more about being present. It’s about integration. Bring forward the sexual person who's been hiding. When authenticity enters the conversation, desire becomes grounded, expressive, and self-directed. I want to come along side those navigating midlife identity while reconnecting to their sensual and sexual selves—without pressure, comparison, or cultural constraint. Your sexuality doesn’t need permission. It needs space, understanding, and agency.

My life has been a journey through pain, loss, and resilience. I grew up with I felt was an abusive parent and lost another at a young age. I survived a 15-year abusive marriage, faced infertility, and was blessed with twins through IVF. I became a caregiver to my terminally ill spouse and later endured the heartbreak of losing both my spouse and later one of my children who was 24 years old. Alongside these losses, I’ve faced my own health challenges and disability. For years, constant crisis defined my life, and when it finally quieted, I struggled to live what others call a “normal.” life. Through it all, I’ve learned that even in darkness, growth and hope remain possible. I’ve dedicated my career to helping others survive and heal—abused children, sex-trafficking survivors, women in crisis, and parents rebuilding their lives. Life is hard, but you can survive—and thrive.

I grew up surrounded by emotional chaos—parents struggling with alcoholism and depression, and a childhood full of absence, confusion, and pain. I witnessed and experienced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and for a long time I believed that love had to hurt. Those early wounds followed me into adulthood, shaping my relationships, my decisions, and the way I saw myself. I experienced miscarriage, divorce, and unhealthy romantic partnerships that echoed the abandonment I felt as a child. For years, I felt unlovable, constantly questioning my worth. But eventually, I chose healing. Through therapy, education, holistic work, and deep personal reflection, I began to break the cycle. I’ve now built a life rooted in healthy love, both for my children and for myself. My journey wasn’t easy, but it showed me that healing is possible, even when life is still messy. If you're feeling stuck in old patterns or questioning your worth, I want to walk beside you as you begin to reclaim your story.

Disabled from birth I have struggled finding employment that is accessible to me as a blind person. Jobs that work with screen readers and locations easy to find transportation to have been challenges I've had. After several job opportunities I have found a job that I feel will be rewarding and enjoyable that I don't have to leave home for.

I discovered my purpose by getting honest about what fear was trying to protect. For years, imposter syndrome kept me circling the edges of my own life. I questioned my voice, minimized my gifts, and waited for certainty before taking up space. What I eventually realized was that fear would continue to have me fall short of my dreams if I didn't learn to sit through the fear to arrive at something meaningful. Purpose became clearer when I stopped trying to outrun fear and started understanding it. Through self-awareness, I learned to notice my patterns instead of ignoring them. Through curiosity, I began asking better questions—about my values, my instincts, and the parts of me that wanted to be expressed but hadn’t felt safe yet. This work isn’t about becoming someone else. It’s about recognizing who you already are beneath the doubt and noise. I help people slow down, listen inward, and build a relationship with themselves that’s rooted in curiosity rather than self-c

During a season of vulnerability I connected with beliefs that taught me to override my body, silence my questions, and call obedience “faith.” I learned how to how to spiritualize pain, how to prioritize loyalty to titles when something inside me could no longer stand the hypocrisy. I eventually UNLEARNED how to trust myself. Recovery started when I let myself question without shame. When I stopped forcing belief and started listening to what my body, my spirit, and my lived experience were telling me. Spiritual healing, for me meant no more doctrine and more discernment; rebuilding trust—with myself. As I unlearned fear-based frameworks, my nervous system softened. My intuition sharpened. My spirituality became embodied instead of enforced. This is how I support others now. Not by telling them what to believe, but by helping them come home to themselves. Spiritual recovery isn’t about losing faith. It’s about