Hi, I’m Lola—a Life Coach, mom of three, and survivor of unhealthy relationships. I rebuilt my life through boundaries, self-love, and now I hold a safe, non-judgmental space for others ready to heal, reclaim their voice, and find peace.

Hi, I’m Lola—a Life Coach and survivor of unhealthy relationships. I rebuilt my life by setting boundaries and practicing self-love, and now I hold a safe, non-judgmental space for others ready to heal, reclaim their voice, and find peace.

I remember staring at my micky mouse mattress. It was being taken away. I was only 8 but I felt a deep grief. We were leaving everything I knew in Iran and moving to another land. It was called America. I felt sad and like I no longer had a home. Little did I know this would be the easiest feat, because when we arrived in America, my mom had a mental breakdown. I became an 8 year old therapist, life partner, and emotional punching bag. Fast forward 4 years later, I developed pain in my body, and now at the age of 33, I have every autoimmune and chronic illness and mental health diagnosis you can throw at a woman. It's mostly invisible, but I struggle. Even in the struggle with family and bodily pain, I've found so much joy and so much magic. Life is truly magical. If you've experienced similar things or if this resonates with you, let's talk. I've mentally made sense of all the family trauma, the medical ptsd, and the ongoing grief. I've cultivated tools and so much compassion.

For much of my life, I faced challenges that tested my emotional resilience and sense of self. Through my own healing journey, I learned the value of slowing down, reflecting, and developing healthy coping tools. Over time, I became the friend and support system others could turn to during their hardest moments. My experiences have taught me the importance of listening with compassion, respecting each person’s unique story, and creating a safe space where people feel truly seen. Now, I want to share that same steady presence to help others navigate change, rebuild confidence, and discover their own inner strength.

For much of my life, I believed that vulnerability meant weakness. I thought I had to keep my struggles hidden and always appear strong. But over time, I learned that the moments I felt most connected, supported, and loved came when I allowed myself to be truly seen. Vulnerability opened the door to healing, deeper relationships, and self-acceptance. Now, I want to share that truth with others—that being vulnerable doesn’t make you fragile, it makes you beautiful and sets you free. There is beauty in showing up as you are, without masks or defenses. Together, we can explore how embracing vulnerability leads to strength, courage, and freedom.

For a long time, I mistook survival for strength. I stayed in spaces that drained me but ignored my boundaries—where emotional safety was optional and clarity was inconvenient. The more I tolerated, the more I lost sight of myself. Healing didn’t begin with forgiveness—it began with discernment. I had to unlearn the idea that being in toxic situations did not mean being valued. I started asking harder questions: Who benefits from my silence? What does safety actually feel like? Through therapy, spiritual grounding, and radical honesty, I began to reclaim my voice. I learned that healing isn’t always graceful—it’s gritty, disruptive, and deeply personal. Now, I hold space for others who are untangling themselves from toxic dynamics. You don’t have to explain your pain to be worthy of peace. You just have to choose it.

There were times I felt surrounded by people yet deeply alone , like my emotions had no place to land . I questioned whether I was too much or not enough , and that silenced echoe louder than words . Through reflection , I began to understand that loneliness isn't a flaw it's a signal . I learned to listen to it , to create space to myself and to build connection from the inside out . Now , I offer that same space to others who feel unseen , helping them reconnect with their voice and worth.

Healing dosent come all at once , it comes in fragments : naming what happened , feeling what I'd buried and slowly learning that safety could be rebuilt. Being understood became a space where I could be real without being reduced . Now I offer that same space to others , where survival isn't the end of the story, and healing doesn't have to be linear.

The pandemic disrupted more than routines - it reshaped identities , relationships and the way many of us relate to our bodies, boundaries and beliefs . For me COVID-19 wasn't just a global event; it was a personal reckoning. Isolation bought clarity, loss revealed what was unsustainable . In my own life I had to re-evaluate what safety meant, how I showed up in relationships an what parts of me were worth preserving - not just performing, especially during a time of great changes.

I've always been the type that had to learn everything the hard way. I've always wanted to experience the extreme in life and because of that my life became extreme. Yes the things that I went through were horrible, but looking back now as a survivor, honestly- it's not a bad thing I went through them. I used to be so close-minded, aggressive, judgmental and quite frankly very dark. My life has never been boring and the energy I drew into my life was even darker. It's in the darkness though, that you find your light. I know that the universe heard me cry from the mouth of hell, reach down and pulled me out because It knew I'd be strong enough to turn around and reach my hand in to pull just one more out hacksaw Ridge status. I'm the only one in my family that never enlisted but fought a hard war here on our soil. I know what it's like to live without people you never wanted to live without, to lose hope and give up, to be invisible, homeless and pregnant and in addiction. We do recover.

Grief has a way of changing you in ways you never expect. When I lost the people and things that meant the most to me, I felt like the world went quiet. The kind of quiet that echoes. I try to fill it with anything - anger, distractions, even denial - but nothing told the ache. Eventually, I realized brief isn't something you "get over." It's something you learn to live with, and if you let it, it can become your greatest teacher. Through my own pain, I found compassion, understanding, and the deeper sense of purpose. The same light I thought I lost was waiting for me to open my heart again. Grief doesn't mean you're broken - it means you love deeply. I'm learning to live again is how we honor that love!

Being a mother in recovery is one of the hardest battles I've faced. I've had my children taken, felt the despair that relapse can bring, and fought hard to get them back. I know how it feels when the system meant to protect kids ends up pushing families apart. But I also know how to stay strong, rebuild trust, and reclaim your role as a mother. Through my own journey I discovered ways to survive, heal, and protect your family while staying in recovery. I'm here to help other mothers find that same strength and Hope.

Surviving homelessness and living off-grid taught me lessons most people never face. I've known hunger, isolation, discrimination or even the feeling of being invisible or not human when those who are strangers to struggle look down on you. I'm no stranger to the freedom of living life on the edge. Even now, with a stable home, electricity, and water, I sometimes miss the simplicity and raw independence of those days. Reintegration into "normal" society isn't easy - it takes resilience, patients, and self trust. Through my journey, I've learned how to navigate both worlds: honoring the survival skills I've gained while building a life of stability and purpose. I'm here to help others do the same - transforming survival into strength and struggle into empowerment.

Dogs are fiercely loyal; they endure the hardships of Life alongside us, without judgment, without pause. During my darkest times my dog was there - a constant study presence offering love even when I felt unworthy. Most people wouldn't choose recovery over loyalty, but dogs don't ask questions; they simply walk with you through the storm. My journey in recovery is intertwined with the bond I share with my dog teaching me patients, trust, and unconditional love. At bond has been a lifeline, a teacher, and a mirror for my own resilience, showing me that honoring and maintaining loyalty through recovery is possible and profoundly transformative.

Self harm was my way of feeling something real when the emotional pain became unbearable. The physical act became a language for the chaos inside, a release of pressure from The unseen weight of trauma, addiction, and depression. I lived in fear - hiding scars, adjusting clothing and managing judgment from those I loved. Pain cause more pain; the cycle felt analyst. Yet, through recovery, I learned that self-harm does not define my worth. It taught me empathy, resilience, and the importance of being seen and heard. Now I got others through the darkness helping them understand their triggers, look for glimmers, find healthier outlets, and reclaim their life with hope, compassion, and self-love.

Being single after divorce isn't just about ending a marriage - it's about reclaiming yourself. I've learned that holding on to someone who pulls you down isn't love; it's drowning yourself; a type of elf sabotage. True love doesn't leave bruises or scars, and sometimes the kindest, most loving act is letting go of what keeps you anchored in pain. Through my own experiences I've rediscovered independence, rebuilt self-worth, and learn to trust myself again. I guide others to do the same dash to heal and brace their strength, and move forward with confidence and clarity.

I've walked through hell and back. Addiction, chaos, and darkness were my reality for years, and I've made mistakes that could have broken me - but I survived! I've cried at the gates of hell, and somehow, the universe reached down and pulled me out because it knew I was strong enough to turn around and reach back in to pull just one more out - hacksaw ridge status - one more person, one more life. Today, I guide people who feel lost, trapped, or hopeless to transform their pain into strength, reclaim their lives, and create hope for themselves and those around them. Together, we turn survival into purpose and lived experience into empowerment.

I survived human trafficking, a world built on fear, control, and hate. Escaping wasn't just leaving people behind - it was unlearning the lies about my worth and reclaiming my freedom. Healing meant shedding pain, prejudice, and survival mindsets to see the beauty and diversity and the power and love. I've claimed belonging to groups based purely off of hate for people they don't even know. I've learned the arrogance in hate but also the much needed presence of it in some circumstances which directly affect your well-being. Now, I try to help others do the same really trauma, move past hate, and rediscover the love and light inside them. Your past doesn't define your capacity for love - it can become the source of your strength, growth, and connection.

For of my life, my mother’s words cut me down more than they lifted me up. She was always criticizing me—how I looked, the choices I made, even my dreams. It felt like no matter what I did, it was never enough. I started to believe her, and deep down I thought maybe I really didn’t have the potential to succeed. As I got older, something shifted. I began to realize that her criticism wasn’t really about me, it was about her fears, her disappointments, and the way she was raised. She didn’t know how to encourage because she had never received encouragement herself. That realization didn’t erase the pain, but it helped me see her with more compassion. The first step in fixing our relationship was setting boundaries. Instead of staying quiet when she put me down, I started speaking calmly. It took time, patience, and forgiveness on my part, but slowly, our relationship began to heal. She hasn’t completely changed, but she tries and catches herself before making certain comments.

I spent two years of my young adulthood in and out of psychiatric hospitals, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes not. During that time, I felt swallowed by depression, anxiety, and the aftermath of painful relationships that left me unsure if I’d ever feel free again. I was constantly cycling through crisis, often misunderstood, and sometimes silenced in the very systems that were supposed to help. Then I discovered Psychiatric Advanced Directives (PADs), and everything started to shift. I’ve used PADs to express my wishes, protect my rights, and bring my care team—my psychologist, naturopath, even legal support—into alignment. I’ve rewritten my PAD more times than I can count, especially after triggering experiences, because I’ve learned how powerful it is to state clearly what I need before a crisis hits. Creating a PAD has helped me not only stay safe but also stay connected to who I am, even in my hardest moments. Now, I want to help others do the same. If you’re navigating mental health challenges and want to build a plan that supports the practical imagination of frameworking for your own #ThisAbility, I’d love to walk you through what PADs are and how they can support your freedom, safety, and care.