For a long time, I prioritized others before myself. I thought this was my love language, but I didn't realize I was actually neglecting myself and performing for others. With this mindset, I accepted abusive relationships and often engaged in people-pleasing, which drained me for years. After my father's unexpected passing, I started going to therapy and began to see life from a different perspective. It felt as though a part of me had died along with him, which opened my eyes to the fact that I needed healing. Now, I stand here with healthy boundaries, understanding that it's okay to choose myself first and then care for others. My relationship with God has grown closer, and I finally feel like I'm walking in my purpose. While I continue to help people, I do so in a healthier way with established boundaries. My children are my pride and joy, and I'm teaching them about healthy boundaries by being a living example.

There was a time when I didn’t recognize myself after years of surviving instead of living, supporting my family from a young age, navigating grief, motherhood, and losing a child. I know what it feels like to wake up and feel disconnected from your own body and identity. Through slow healing, therapy, community, and remembering my voice, I rebuilt myself piece by piece. Now I hold space for others walking that same path back home to themselves.

My life has been full of transitions: grief, motherhood, heartbreak, identity loss, survival, and rebuilding. Every transition reshaped me. I learned how to listen to myself through change, and now I support others through theirs.

It has been my experience that while being a wife and a caregiver for a spouse with disabilities and mobility challenges I have had to learn to prioritize my self-care and boundaries and limitations and know when I need to ask for help or call for help because I don't have the strength to pick him up or move him into his wheelchair under my own capacity and need help and that I need to take care of myself in the process

Heart-centered work supporting others is not light work. As someone who's spent a majority of my mature years holding space for others, I am more than familiar with burnout, compassion fatigue and sometimes just feeling a lot at once. It was tough carrying that alone, or expressing myself and being met with "why don't you find a new job?" When something is your passion and your purpose, just walking away when things get tough is not the suggestion that really lands. Sometimes we just need to be heard in our experience, and reassured of our inner strength ( after we've really had time to vent and decompress). Here is a space where you can give me the tea ( no HIPPA violations though, but I can hear the depersonalized stories), I am happy to be a gentle witness that gets it. If we'd like to discuss after-care plans or even rest in affirmations of why we do it, that's also an option, but not a requirement. It's okay to just be heard.

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've noticed that most ideas don't arrive politely. They usually come out of nowhere and almost as a whisper that can be hard to pin down. If you've ever felt called to build something while simultaneously feeling unsure, exposed, or overwhelmed- you're not alone and this space is for you. I used to hear so many whispers to leave my cushy Fortune 500 corporate jobs over the years that I used to just ignore, until it became so unbearable that I couldn't. The path is not easy but there is something grounding that happens when you're able to share exactly where you are on your journey with a neutral, objective observer and be witnessed in your process of becoming. It always surprises me just how much clarity can come from simply being heard. You don't always need answers or a plan. Sometimes what moves things forward is honest conversation. Speaking your vision, your doubts, your curiosities, your "maybe this is crazy" thoughts, without needing to package them into certainty.

Leaving graduate school early, job loss, poor fits - all traumas I've had to navigate through. Whatever nebulous point represented my dream career now has a circuitous route to get there. Add to that the mental toll that professional, financial, and social shifts take on our well-being, especially when we don't learn "corporate speak" in school! I'd love to share ways that I've handled these setbacks - such as becoming a content creator - as well as practical ideas for job seeking. As important as our careers are, they don't represent our entire identity.

I offer support and guidance towards confidence and clarity whether you are job searching or preparing for a big interview. A mentor and career coach, I have years of experience both personally and professionally from my own career path as well as working 1:1 with others. After leaving toxic work environments myself unsure what would come next - I have been there and it can be overwhelming at a time you are already drained. I can help you with goal setting, interview preparation or in finding meaningful work.

My career path has been anything but predictable. Whether you are starting a new role or struggling to find meaningful work - I'm Here For You - If you are navigating a career change or reskilling during a career change, I have been there and have would love to support you with finding confidence and navigating this with more ease.

Losing a job is profoundly disorienting. My job was more than a source of income and daily routine; it was my life, it defined me, was how I introduced myself. It was my social network, my family. I felt lost, confused and somehow like a really bad person. I discovered I had been in burnout mode and didn't know it. It felt catastrophic. I was in a fog....and the good news is you can wake up from that fog and take action. Like you are doing now: seeking help! There are strategies for coping with and overcoming these challenges. Reestablish routine, identify and organize your priorities. Taking time for self-assessment and self care gives you strength to manage yourself, making you a more attractive interviewee or entrepreneur. There's work to do to recreate yourself. That's what happened to me. I entered a career I'd never dreamed of, in an environment that draws on my intuition. Self-respect and confidence came quickly. This can happen to you. Let's explore it together

I value honest conversation, gentleness, and letting people be human. I’ve spent years learning how to untangle shame, self-criticism, and the pressure to be “okay,” and that shapes how I show up with others. When we talk, my focus is on listening carefully and creating a space where you don’t have to perform or explain yourself perfectly. I’m especially drawn to conversations with people navigating shame, recovery, complicated family dynamics, or difficult systems. You don’t need to have answers or a plan — just a willingness to speak openly and be met with compassion.

I understand the unique challenges and experiences of sex workers because I’ve lived them myself. From navigating safety, boundaries, and workplace dynamics to managing stigma and personal growth, I’ve experienced it all and come through stronger. I offer a safe, non-judgmental space to talk about your experiences, share guidance, and provide support tailored to your needs. Whether you’re looking for advice, emotional support, or someone who truly understands the realities of the work, I’m here to help you feel heard, empowered, and confident in your choices.

I'm finally finding out what I want to do with work and so I can help you feel better about yourself and it's never too late to do what you dream so let's get you there. And I can help you if you have a disability to really and I can tell you about my experiences and how I got to be doing what I'm doing. To get you where you need to be

Well I have a disability myself and I really learned how to cope with it and I would like to pass that on to others. For the longest time I did feel sort of like lost and I was drifting but I'm finally getting through everything and having gone through menopause I want to pass the knowledge on the people how to get through that and in general and for those with the disability and I want to help parents with a disability because I feel like it's so important for parents to know as my parents did not know as much because it was the eighties. Also I am psychic so I can help people in that room too. I'm a psychic life coach.

I've been a caregiver for aging parents and a social services professional -- and, for my friends, a "trauma auntie": the one they know they can always count on to walk beside them through the hardest times...and to call at 3am. I've spent a lot of time caring for others, in both my personal life and and my career, and exhaustion, burnout, and vicarious trauma are real. We all know we should prioritize "self care," but what exactly does that mean? Bubble baths and take out is nice, but does it really refill your cup? And where are the folks who can hold us up when we need it? This time is just for the supporters out there. Whether you are parenting, caring for loved ones, or work in direct service, social work or emergency services, let's create a safe space where you can unload, riddle out what self care really works for you, and learn to rest.

I was diagnosed with Autism in my 40s, after a lifetime of misdiagnoses -- and an adulthood building a professional career. My diagnosis brought with it the chance to build skills in ways best suited for my neurodivergent brain, as well as the knowledge and capacity to ask for accommodations in my personal and work life. Disclosing your Autism, ADHD, or AuADHD has impact, both positive and negative. I've lived through both! Let's talk through the potential benefits and challenges of disclosure, the different "levels" of disclosure (to HR, to colleagues, to your boss, to your customers) to help you decide if, when, and what kind of disclosure (if any!) would best support your needs and goals.

Living with ADHD is like running a marathon with your shoes tied together. My brain doesn’t move in a straight line. It zigzags, leaps, crashes, and forgets why it entered the room. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been called “lazy,” “scattered,” or “inconsistent.” But the truth is, I’m doing my best in a world that wasn’t built for brains like mine. ADHD isn’t just being distracted. It’s the shame of missed deadlines, the overwhelm of executive dysfunction, the paralysis when you know what to do but can’t do it. It’s the highs of hyperfocus, the lows of burnout, and the constant inner monologue telling you you’re never doing enough. But ADHD isn’t a flaw. It’s a different operating system. And once I stopped trying to force myself into neurotypical molds, I started to find a rhythm that worked for me. It’s still messy. But it’s mine. If you’re feeling misunderstood, exhausted, or ashamed of your scattered mind, I see you.

Life doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath, it barrels through like a freight train, throwing deadlines, people, and chaos at you all at once. I’ve been there, drowning in the noise and pressure, feeling like my brain and body were stuck on overload. Stress isn’t some polite visitor; it’s that relentless storm you can’t switch off. I’ve learned the hard way that trying to push through only burns you out faster. Managing overwhelm means slowing down enough to notice what’s really breaking you, giving yourself permission to say “no” or “not right now,” and finding fierce but gentle ways to survive the madness. No BS, no fake cheerleading, just real talk and space for your tired soul. Come, rest, weary traveller.

There was a time in my life when everything felt paused. I was between jobs, unsure of my next step, watching others move forward while I sat still. People would say, “Something will come along,” but the waiting felt like slow erosion. My self-worth was tied to progress, and without it, I felt small. I learned how to sit with the discomfort, how to extract meaning from stillness, and how to build a life that didn’t depend on a clear next chapter. I began to ask myself deeper questions about purpose, identity, and what truly mattered.