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.

For years, I moved through faith spaces feeling both seen and silenced - adopted by doctrine but disconnected from my own spirit . My spiritual awakening wasn't gentle, it was a rupture. What followed was a reclamation of voice , boundaries and divine connection. Now, I hold space for others navigating spiritual warfare, religious experiences and the quiet ache of disembodiment. This offering is for those ready to re-enter their sacredness on their own terms.

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.

Growing up in Romania, food was more than nourishment—it was comfort, tradition, and a connection to home. When I moved to the United States, I faced the excitement of a new life but also the ache of missing my roots. At first, I tried to fill that void with food, holding onto flavors and meals that reminded me of family and familiarity. Along the way, I was diagnosed with diabetes, which forced me to face not just my health but the deeper emotions tied to eating and self-care. That journey taught me resilience, self-awareness, and compassion for myself. I chose to become a health coach to help others navigate their own challenges, combining my personal experience, cultural sensitivity, and heart-centered guidance to create lasting, meaningful change.

For a long time, I felt like I was living behind a version of myself that made others comfortable — hiding my feelings, softening my truth, and carrying the weight of family conflict and isolation. Coming into my identity and learning to embrace vulnerability wasn’t an instant transformation; it was a slow, sometimes painful process of realizing that authenticity is what actually creates belonging. Now, I offer space for others who are navigating similar crossroads — people figuring out who they are in the world, healing from rejection, or simply longing for real connection. Together, we talk openly about identity, boundaries, family, and friendship. My hope is that you leave our conversations feeling a little more seen, a little more yourself, and reminded that it’s okay to take up space exactly as you are.

I have been out as bisexual and navigating the waters of ethical non-monogamy for over 25 years, came out as specifically polyamorous and got involved in the community 15+ years ago, and was involved in regional poly community leadership for 5 years. I have tried just about every relationship configuration, made all the rookie mistakes and learned from them.

I have been out as bisexual since 1995. I have been heavily involved in the queer community ever since. If you are exploring your orientation, let me help you navigate the experience of coming out and living your truth!

In 2016, I met someone who appeared to be the man of my dreams. In 2017, just after we got engaged, my partner came out as a trans woman. I supported and aided her throughout her gender transition journey and I would love to help others navigate this process and feel properly supported themselves.

I've battled knowing who i am for a long time, and after years of continuing to work on myself i found skills that have helped me to be more readily willing to share and open up, and to know and believe in my self worth and to overcome negative self talk and feelings of unworthiness, and feeling unloved, and ashamed. i found the strength to see myself for who i am through my own eyes instead of the eyes of others.

I know what it’s like to second-guess everything and feel like an imposter in rooms where everyone else seems more confident, more capable, more 'put together.' I’ve battled those thoughts in friendships, work, creative projects, and more. No matter how much I accomplished, that little voice telling me I wasn’t enough kept creeping in. Over time, I’ve learned that imposter syndrome isn’t a sign that you aren’t capable—it’s often a reflection of deep self-awareness, high standards, and past experiences that made you doubt your worth. Working through it isn’t about silencing those thoughts completely; it’s about recognizing them, questioning them, and learning how to move forward anyway. Through peer support, I’ve helped others navigate these feelings—validating their fears while uncovering strategies to build confidence in who they are. You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone. You just have to see it for yourself.

I thought resilience meant pushing through—gritting my teeth, swallowing feelings, and forcing myself to ‘just deal with it.’ But that left me drained and butting against as brick wall. You see, strength isn’t just enduring struggles; it’s about adapting, processing, and allowing yourself space to heal. Self-compassion was the hardest piece. I didn’t realize how much I held myself to unrealistic standards, expecting perfection where I should’ve offered myself grace. Over time, I started embracing the idea that strength isn’t about ignoring pain—it’s about acknowledging it and choosing how to move forward with care. Through my work in peer support, I’ve helped others cultivate resilience in a way that feels sustainable—balancing the need for self-protection with the power of self-kindness. If you’ve ever felt like you’re being too hard on yourself or struggling to recover from challenges, I get it. Let’s explore ways to navigate life with strength and softness.

Can't tell you how often I chased a broken idea of self-improvement; trying to eliminate "flaws," and constantly striving for an ideal version of myself that felt out of reach. The more I pushed toward that impossible standard, the more disconnected I felt. But growth isn’t about perfection—it’s about exploration. We evolve not by erasing the parts of us we struggle with, but by understanding them, accepting them, and finding authentic ways to move forward. Philosophy has played a huge role in reshaping how I approach self-development, helping me see life less as a rigid path. It can be hard to navigate the tension between self-acceptance and wanting to grow—breaking free from unrealistic expectations and exploring self-reflection in a way that actually feels fulfilling. If you’ve ever struggled with self-doubt or felt like you’re "not enough," let’s take a step back. It doesn’t have to be about fixing—it can be about understanding and embracing the complexity of who you are.

I often feel like I'm operating on a different frequency—processing things in ways that made perfect sense to me but seemed confusing to the world around me. Whether it was how I approached conversations, structured my thoughts, or reacted to social dynamics, these spaces never jived with my design. At times, that led to frustration, self-doubt, and isolation. I either tried to mask my differences to blend in or leaned so far into them that I struggled to find common ground with others. It wasn’t until I started actively learning about neurodivergence that things truly shifted. My brain wasn’t ‘wrong’—it was just operating on a different set operating system. I know how important it is to uncover your strengths and advocate for your needs. If you’ve ever felt like you were constantly adjusting yourself just to be understood, this is an invitation to honor your unique mind and thrive in spaces that weren’t built for it.

Growing up mainly involved managing my parent's emotions instead of the other way around. Conversations felt unpredictable—sometimes too much, sometimes too little—and I found myself taking on roles I wasn’t meant to carry. Whether it was absorbing their stress, minimizing my feelings to keep the peace, or feeling unseen in moments when I needed support. It shaped the way I viewed myself and my relationships. I struggled to untangle what was me versus what was a survival response to the dynamics I grew up with. It took time, reflection, and effort to recognize that I didn’t have to carry the emotional weight of others. Learning to separate my identity from my upbringing gave me space to redefine self-worth on my terms and finally set emotional boundaries. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve had to shrink yourself, over-function, or fight to be understood, let’s explore how you can step into your own identity—without guilt or fear, and heal from the impact of emotionally immature parents.

There were times in my life when I felt completely untethered, unsure of where I was headed, doubting whether I had anything meaningful to offer the world. I went through phases of chasing achievements, external validation, or whatever seemed like the ‘right’ next step, hoping it would give me a sense of purpose. But it never felt quite right. Eventually, I realized purpose isn’t something you stumble upon in a single moment—it’s something that evolves, shifts, and grows with you. It’s about understanding your values, what truly resonates with you, and how you want to engage with the world. And sometimes, the first step is simply allowing yourself the space to ask questions without pressure to have all the answers right away. Through peer support, I’ve helped others explore what purpose means to them—not as an obligation, but as a process of discovery. If you’re feeling stuck, uncertain, or lost in the "what’s next?" of life, I get it. Let’s take the time to navigate it together.

I am a recovering perfectionist. "Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." I have worn many hats throughout my life. I've naviagted different jobs and roles, different social circles and identities, all with their own language, expectations, rewards, and costs. Most recently, I have been dealing with the reality of my divorce, and reflecting on the things I wish I could've done differently. I've been thinking of my children's wellbeing nonstop and my own stability and happiness. When this all started, a friend said to me, "Don't let this change who you are." (Of course he meant all the good stuff.) I am deeply grateful for the support I've recieved. It has sustained and recentered me through this tough time. I feel called to do similar for others.

I became a parent while finishing graduate school, balancing a newborn, academic demands, and a move to Alaska all at once. As my daughter grew, I learned to navigate her ADHD and later, the major emotional hurdles that came with her Long Covid diagnosis. At the same time, I was working through profound changes in my own life—struggling in my marriage, recognizing my identity as a gay woman, and healing after a suicide attempt in 2017. Therapy became a lifeline, helping me rediscover my authentic self, leave my marriage on good terms, and eventually build a healthy new marriage based on communication and mutual understanding. Now, as a longtime educator, a parent, and someone who has rebuilt a full, genuine life, I’m passionate about helping others work through parenting stress, relationship transitions, identity discovery, and emotional healing.

I became a parent while finishing graduate school, balancing a newborn, academic demands, and a move to Alaska all at once. As my daughter grew, I learned to navigate her ADHD and later, the major emotional hurdles that came with her Long Covid diagnosis. At the same time, I was working through profound changes in my own life—struggling in my marriage, recognizing my identity as a gay woman, and healing after a suicide attempt in 2017. Therapy became a lifeline, helping me rediscover my authentic self, leave my marriage on good terms, and eventually build a healthy new marriage based on communication and mutual understanding. Now, as a longtime educator, a parent, and someone who has rebuilt a full, genuine life, I’m passionate about helping others work through parenting stress, relationship transitions, identity discovery, and emotional healing.

There was a long stretch of my life where I kept trying to follow the “right” way to connect: the pacing, the scripts, the unwritten rules people seem to absorb automatically. And every time I tried them, I felt like I was playing a character instead of actually showing up as myself. What I didn’t struggle with was connection itself. I’ve always known how to read people, how to follow the moment, how to let curiosity and energy guide a conversation. It was the performance of connection that exhausted me, not the connection. Eventually, I realized the problem wasn’t me. It was that I kept trying to use language I was never meant to speak. When I stopped forcing myself into formulas, relationships became easier, more natural, and actually enjoyable. Now I help people figure out what their relational style looks like — without scripts, games, or pretending to be someone they’re not.

If you’ve spent your life hiding your quirks to fit in, at work, in relationships, or even around family, you know how exhausting it can be. I get what it’s like to mask, to lose track of who you are, and to wonder if you’ll ever feel truly seen. Let’s talk about unmasking at your own pace, finding spaces where you can breathe, and building a life that doesn’t require you to pretend. I have been there and I love to walk the journey with fellow neurodivergents!