My story isn’t perfect — it’s real. I’ve stumbled through loss, career changes, heartbreak, anxiety, and depression, but I’ve also found strength in my faith and the community that held me up. I wear my scars and my colors proudly as a member of the rainbow gang 🏳️‍🌈. Now, I’m here to help others find their footing and rediscover their light. If you need a mentor who’s walked the hard roads and still believes in hope, let’s connect.

I’m a 37-year-old lesbian with a whole passport stamped by life’s hardest lessons. I done walked through so much fire I should glow in the dark, but somehow I still find my smile — even if it be strolling in late like it own the place. Since I was 12, I been losing folks yearly, including my dad most recently. I’ve climbed outta two divorces and I’m pushing through a third, with two of those being straight-up narcissistic rollercoasters. I’m an Army vet, the baby of five, and still evolving — growing, stretching, healing. God still working on me, and I’m working right beside Him. I’ve lost everything — even my dog — and built myself back from scratch. I’m a depression and anxiety survivor, and I lived through moments when I ain’t wanna stay on this earth. But I’m still here. Still fighting. Still choosing me. If you need somebody who knows pain but can still crack a joke in the middle of the storm, I’m that one.

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.

After losing both of my parents to COVID during the height of the pandemic, I fell into the darkest period of my life. Though they were in their 90s, the experience of losing them so close together, and under such isolating conditions, shook me deeply. I withdrew from nearly everything. I was overwhelmed by anxiety, sadness, and an unfamiliar sense of aimlessness that lingered far longer than I expected. Even when I was physically present, I felt emotionally unreachable, like I was watching life from behind a thick glass wall. That chapter changed me. It forced me to slow down, reflect, and ultimately reimagine what a meaningful life looks like. When I started to emerge from that fog, I knew I needed to live with more intention. I retired from my long career in marketing and began focusing on service and connection. I founded a nonprofit that teaches digital art to inner-city youth, and I now work with Social Venture Partners in Chicago to support grassroots organizations creating real change. This journey through grief and depression reshaped how I show up in the world. I know what it’s like to lose your footing and how powerful it can be to find it again. If you’re feeling disconnected or lost in the wake of mental health challenges, I’d be honored to walk with you as you find your way back.

My partner and I shared 33 years together and were blessed with a son. Our journey was not without its challenges; we lived apart for eight years, but we always found our way back to each other. Over the last 20 years, we grew even closer, and when he was diagnosed with cancer, I became his primary caregiver. I was by his side every day, witnessing the fluctuations of his health—moments of decline intertwined with brief periods of improvement. Towards the end, I faced some incredibly difficult decisions, often having to navigate them alone. This experience taught me so much about the nuances of end-of-life care and the resilience required to start anew. It has been a profound journey of growth and learning. One of the things I found when I was in this situation was difficulty finding someone who had shared experience. I felt that only someone who has experienced this could understand. A couple of years on now, and I found Warmer. I hope to be the person I needed for you.

The loss of a spouse is a uniquely profound experience. When the person you share your life with is gone, a significant part of yourself disappears, leaving you to redefine your identity. After losing my partner of 33 years to cancer, I felt lost and uncertain about the future. But, day by day, I slowly began to understand who I was without him. Today, I have rediscovered myself while cherishing the invaluable gifts he left me. Our son and grandchildren give me the strength to carry on. I tell my son, 'Your father instilled in me an enduring strength as his final gift.' Today, I am experiencing a new appreciation for life. I am trying new foods that I never thought I would try. I am venturing to places I never expected, and I have built a vibrant new circle of friends. There was a time when I doubted I could ever feel this way. Now, I am embracing life with an enthusiasm I never knew I possessed. Let me help you navigate the next chapter

The experience of caregiving for a terminally ill partner is one that few can truly comprehend unless they've lived it. Each day, you witness the person you depend on transform into someone unrecognizable. I'll never forget the day the word 'leukemia' shattered our world. The following two years reshaped me in ways I never imagined. Day after day, I served as his primary caregiver, navigating the journey with a woefully inadequate support system. The emotional rollercoaster of that time was a constant, overwhelming challenge. You're suddenly thrown into a life for which few are prepared, a world shrouded in unfamiliarity. The very person you'd normally turn to for support now relies entirely on you. My first, and biggest, mistake: neglecting myself. Self-care isn't a luxury; it's a necessity. I'm certain I made countless missteps. But life has taught me that failures often hold the most valuable lessons. My hope is that by sharing my story, you'll find solace in knowing you're not alon

My mother lived with me over 12 years. She was healthy when she moved in but shortly afterwards she developed Alzheimer's. I walked beside her through her journey. I had to learn how to navigate self-care and her care. It is very difficult. The bulk of managing her care (i.e. finances, doctors/health) fell to me. It was demanding with significant emotional, physical and financial investment for me and my family. While rewarding, I had to learn to ask for help and then let go. Letting go was hard to do but I had to take steps to take care of me so that I could be a loving caregiver. Mom passed in March of 2025 after a traumatic fall. I then had to deal with all of the end of life details and grieve.

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.

I have experienced many situations that left me living in what I call "crisis mode," including growing up with an abusive parent, losing a parent suddenly as a teenager, marrying a man who became violent and abusive, and later caring for him through seven years of illness until he passed away. I have faced fertility challenges and, after eight years of trying, was finally successful with IVF and had twins, including seven months on bedrest. Tragically, one of my twins became seriously ill at 16 and battled numerous health issues until she passed away at 24 after a year in the ICU. Throughout all of this, I have navigated my own health challenges and am now disabled.

Hello, I’m a 57-year-old who has faced many challenges over the years, including growing up with an abusive parent, losing a parent at a young age, enduring a 15-year marriage to an abusive spouse, navigating infertility and IVF, raising twins, caring for and losing a spouse to terminal illness, and the loss of a 24-year-old child to health issues. I have also faced my own health challenges and become disabled. These experiences, combined with my lifelong work supporting abused and neglected children, women, sex trafficking survivors, foster youth, and grieving parents, have given me a deep understanding of grief, crisis, and resilience. I am here to help you find strength, know you are never alone, and discover ways to survive and thrive even through life’s most difficult moments.

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.

For over six years in my twenties I took care of three of my grandparents during their end-of-life stages. It was an intense time of learning and self development. From navigating the healthcare system, bearing witness to their pain, and working through my own generational trauma, I learned lesson after lesson. Caretaking for family is a humbling, and often overwhelming, experience. Building community during this time is crucial. That time in my life had a tremendous impact on me. So much so that I have chosen to go back to school for a degree in Health Science, specializing in Behavioral Health with the hope that one day I can transition into a career as a Life and Death Doula. I am on a learning path to help others navigate the end-of-life stage as well as the process of grief. I would be honored to discuss your experience with you.

Death is the only thing we can ever expect from life. That knowledge does nothing to make the experience of loss any easier. Through the years I have experienced many types of death loss. From grandmothers I loved deeply, a grandfather I loathed, two cousins who were my best friends died in their prime unexpectedly, and a few friends and family committing suicide. No loss is easy, even if some are less shocking. Each brings a grief all its own, intense and so overwhelming. If you are experiencing grief over the loss of a loved one, I would be honored to speak with you. To support you on the journey to acceptance and healing. To finding who you still are in a world that has lost their reflection.

Growing up in an extremely religious household gave me a lot of preconceived notions surrounding the winter holiday season. My memories of childhood holidays are a mixed grab bag consisting of some of my favorite and some of my hardest moments. As a single parent who has experienced a history of struggling to make ends meet, I have had to figure out how to provide an adequate experience for my children during this season. Through conscious attention on reducing shame and learning to focus on building community, I have managed to transform this season for myself from one of avoidance to one of celebration. Whatever struggle you face during this holiday season, know that you are not alone. I would be honored to listen, hold space and support you through this time.

During the last few years of my grandparents' lives I became their caregiver as they navigated a variety of health issues. The illnesses that had the deepest effect on our lives was Alzheimers and Dementia. In many ways it felt like chaos, and that we were loosing them before they were actually gone. With my grandfather we dealt with increased anger and rage episodes, while with my grandmother it was as if she became like a small child again. For my mother and I, learning to hold space for them was a necessary process, but learning to hold space for ourselves was even more crucial. If you are facing a situation where you are caretaking for someone with Alzheimers or Dementia, please know you are not alone. I would be honored to walk along side you and help you through this process as you build community and self-care during this time of giving compassionate care.

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 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 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.

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.