Over time, I've learned to challenge those societal norms and embrace the fact that my mental health, my emotions, and my identity are all valid parts of who I am. I've started to let go of the need to fit into prescribed boxes and embrace the messy, beautiful complexity of being human. It hasn’t been easy, and there are still moments where doubt creeps in, but I no longer feel the pressure to pretend everything’s fine when it's not. I’m slowly learning to be kinder to myself and give myself the space to explore who I am, outside the constraints of society's expectations. This journey of self-acceptance has been liberating—I'm no longer living in the shadows of perfection or the fear of judgment. Instead, I’m embracing my uniqueness and finding strength in my authenticity. It’s empowering to know that I don’t have to conform to anyone else’s idea of “normal” to be worthy or happy. Every step forward is a victory, and I’m learning to celebrate myself for all that I am.

The biggest challenge was coming out to myself. In the recovery community we talk about the "gifts of sobriety," things we learn about ourselves once the substance induced haze dissipates. My coming out was just that.....a gift. I had just turned 50 when I told my drinking story at a women's AA meeting. While I was clueless about myself, every lesbian in the room knew I was one of them. Due to internalized homophobia and unfamiliarity with the lifestyle, I intuitively felt threatened: I was embarrassed and ashamed, afraid of rejection. Being in corporate mode, I "hired" a "consultant" to help me assess my status. In the process, I found I already had lesbian friends. I found acceptance of myself and others. Whether you knew when you were 8 or are just now in discovery, coming out can be the most liberating of experiences. I've been there, done that, and I can help make your journey easier. You don't have to navigate it alone. Let me co-pilot your journey of discovery.

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.

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 was studying psychology in college and dreamed of becoming a psychologist. But before I even graduated, I began experiencing delusions and deep emotional swings I couldn’t explain. I was eventually diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and everything shifted. My diagnosis made it feel like my career goals slipped out of reach, and I lost my footing. I turned to substances like weed, alcohol, psychedelics to cope. I found myself in a string of chaotic and toxic relationships, including one that turned physically abusive. I overstayed, not trusting myself to leave, until I finally reached a breaking point. Medication helped, but so did having people in my life who reminded me I was still worthy of love and healing. Meeting my now-husband helped me believe in my future again. I got sober in 2023, and even though I still live with bipolar disorder, it no longer defines what I can’t do, it helps me know exactly what I need to thrive. If you’re navigating life after diagnosis, I want you to know you’re not alone. There is a path forward, and it gets clearer with time and support.

A little over a year ago, I lost my younger brother to substance abuse. Four months later, I lost the love of my life to cancer. My world shattered. It felt like I’d fallen into a deep black hole with no way out. Everything changed, I couldn’t manage daily life without leaning on friends and family, and I had to give myself permission to simply grieve and do nothing for a while. Slowly, day by day, I began to heal. I started putting one foot in front of the other. Through my grief, I discovered lessons from both of them about living fully and authentically. Today, I carry those lessons with me. Living with a deeper sense of gratitude and appreciation for life, love, and the people who walk beside us through it all.

I've spent the majority of my life figuring out how to move beyond the persistent hopelessness I've felt trying to navigate a world in flux. Whether it was figuring out an effective therapeutic protocol for my CPTSD, going through a breakup with my long-term partner, repositioning myself professionally, repairing family dynamics, or working through unhealthy coping mechanisms, I've had to find my way through the dark night of the soul time and again. It hasn't been easy, but I am continually finding ways to make it more meaningful. For me, the existential struggle isn't just personal. It's also social, ecological, and cosmological. Adopting this holistic lens gives me a sense of ease in an otherwise anxious body. I'm actively working on building healthy social relationships, reconnecting with the living world around me, and developing my capacity to be a more mindful being. Curiosity and creativity are my primary guides for navigating experiences, both pleasant and unpleasant.

I spend a lot of time thinking about the things people usually avoid: meaning, purpose, death, the big “why.” It messes with my head in the best and worst ways. Sometimes I spiral into it at 3am and everything feels pointless. Other times I find profound meaning in the way light hits my coffee cup and just shrug at the mystery of it all. Both responses are part of the same beautifully weird picture. I find a weird comfort in not knowing, strange relief in admitting I’m completely winging it, and oddly satisfying meaning in moments that make zero logical sense. That feels more real than pretending I have it all figured out. That’s exactly what I bring to this space: permission to be beautifully lost, to find strange comfort in uncertainty, and to talk about the weird shit that keeps you up at night. If you're the type of person who resonates with this, we might be fit. I see you.

Since childhood I have been connected to my intuition and the spiritual world. I come from a long line of spiritual women and have always been able to see, sense, and simply know things beyond the physical. I have received visions, intuitive “downloads,” and guidance that helped me find meaning, hope, and direction during hard seasons. My gifts include clairvoyance, clairsentience, claircognizance, and card reading, and I pair these with tapping and grounding practices. I have also walked through deconstructing religion and redefining my relationship with spirituality. I believe everyone deserves the space to explore what resonates with their spirit, trust their inner knowing, and choose the path that brings curiosity, joy and understanding.

For the intuitives, empaths, and psychics- who see more, feel more, and know more than they can easily explain. I’ve been that child who was terrified of the things no one else could see — the “ghosts” everyone said weren’t real. I wasn’t comforted; I was dismissed. I get it. As I grew up, rejection remained. Church made me feel ashamed and family rejected me for exploring anything outside of the church's beliefs. It was exhausting trying to explain things to those who didn't want to understand. But then I stopped apologizing for the gifts God gave me. I’ve learned to love every gift I carry — my intuition, my sensitivity, my connection. I became a Holistic Depth Coach- using my intuitive insight to help others heal, grow, and live freely without shame. If you’ve ever questioned your gift, your faith, or your sanity trying to reconcile all three — you’re safe here. You’re not alone. And you don’t have to choose between being spiritual and being understood.

I wasn’t really able to get to the bottom of my healing process until I started to connect my shortcomings to things I had experienced in the past. Whether it was my need to control everything around me or my tendency to dissociate in stressful situations, once I realized the events in my life that caused this conditioning, I was able to change the framework in my brain in order to approach situations in a more productive way. Trauma continuously happens throughout your life, and if left unaddressed can further deteriorate your mental health as you age. The good news, however, is that once you get a grasp on your past traumas, you become much more aware of traumas as they happen. Eventually, this leads to the harmonious practice of mindfulness - basically addressing and processing emotions as they happen so that they don't accumulate and leave you feeling stuck.

Depression has been a silent shadow in my life. Sometimes heavy, sometimes barely visible, but always there. It’s the weight in my chest, the fog in my mind, the ache in my bones. It’s the exhaustion that sleep won’t fix, and the hollow feeling even when everything should feel okay. It’s more than sadness. It’s numbness. It’s guilt for not being able to “snap out of it.” It’s the quiet wondering if you’re ever going to feel like yourself again, or if you ever did. But here’s what I know now. Depression lies. It tells you you’re lazy, unlovable, or broken. But none of that is true. Through years of unraveling shame, surviving bad days, and holding on by the thinnest threads, I’ve come to know depression intimately. Not as a moral failure, but as a wound in need of care. If you’re tired, if you’re hurting, if you’re barely hanging on, I get it. I’m not here to push you toward false positivity. I’m here to sit with you in the real.

When I was in college, I thought I had to have everything figured out—career, relationships, calling, identity. The truth? I didn’t. And that pressure almost crushed me, leading me to graduate high school at 16, college at 20 and then go on to earn my MA at 22. Now, after decades of experience as a professor, coach, and mentor to young women navigating these same questions, I’ve learned that clarity doesn’t come from forcing a five-year plan—it comes from learning to listen inward and upward. I love helping young women who feel stuck, overwhelmed, or unsure of their next step rediscover who they are and how to move forward with purpose and peace.

I’m the guy who sold his agency before the AI tide crested, not because I’m risk-averse, but because I felt called to build alternatives to extraction. Oh, and I learned to write poetry, break free from T.V. got baptized, and now struggle with finding people to help. Let me help you! I do deep research, turn chaos into sharp playbooks, pressure-test assumptions, and ship tiny proofs that real people can touch. I’ve broken free from pornography and stimulant abuse, and I’m learning to unclench—practicing rest, lowering the voltage, reclaiming attention—while still staring down what looks like a looming economic unravelling that I both dread and prepare for. I train my body, cultivate community, and prefer barter-like reciprocity to metrics theater. I’m suspicious of hype, committed to candor, and more interested in building quiet retreat.

My midlife moment didn’t arrive all at once. The first jolt came when I had a heart attack at 39 — a wake-up call that forced me to confront mortality earlier than I expected. But in some ways, the more jarring shift happened almost a decade later, when I began aging in a way I couldn’t ignore. I had looked 35 until nearly 50, and then—seemingly overnight—I started seeing someone different in the mirror. It wasn’t just about appearance; it was about identity. I felt like I was grieving the version of myself I had been for so long: the youthful guy whose age always surprised people. Suddenly, I wasn’t him anymore. At the same time, I was recommitting to my passion for acting after over a decade in a corporate career. But that brought its own challenges. I worried I was now past the age for the roles I once longed to play. The dream hadn’t died — but the terms had changed. I found myself reckoning with feelings of failure, burnout, and the question of whether I had anything meaningful to show for all the years I’d been chasing this path. The journey since then hasn’t been linear. But now in my 50's with time, reflection, and some truly fulfilling projects under my belt, I’ve begun to make peace with what midlife means for me. I still have goals, but I no longer define success by rigid milestones or external validation. I’ve discovered the beauty of aging into new kinds of roles — on stage, in life, and in community. I’ve also come to see purpose not as a destination, but as a way of being: evolving, internal, and intimately mine. That shift has made space for acceptance, clarity, and even joy in the person I’m becoming.

I've walked through disillusionment and the dark night of the soul - when everything I thought I knew about life, success and even myself, fell apart. I did everything the world said would bring happiness & fulfillment, yet found only emptiness where meaning should have been. In that darkness, I was stripped bare - forced to face my pain, my conditioning, and the illusions I once called truth. But it was there, in the silence, that I began to heal. Piece by piece, I rediscovered what cannot be taken - the light within, the quiet resilience of spirit, the knowing that wholeness isn't something to earn but to remember. My journey through the depths became my awakening. Now I walk with others through their own darkness, helping them see that even when all seems lost, the soul is never without light, but only waiting to be found again.

I grew up going to a Southern Baptist church 3 days a week. I was committed, prayerful, and devoted to what I believed was a personal relationship with Christ. Yet there was a constant friction, because I also value equality and empathy, which often conflicted with the rigid teachings around me. This led to constant feelings of guilt and cognitive dissonance. One Sunday in my mid 20s , the dissonance dissipated and I found clarity. Despite my desperate prayers and the sobs heaving in my chest, I was met with total silence. This silence was not the peaceful kind, but the kind that reveals truth. I then realized that no divine rescue was ever coming, and I would have to be my own savior. That realization was the catalyst for not only leaving the church, but also leaving a seven year long abusive relationship. I began the painful, liberating journey of reclaiming my identity. My story now allows me to hold space for others who are facing religious trauma and spiritual deconstruction.

I'm currently breaking free from a religious path that was once a huge part of me. For years, I lived life according to its teachings because I thought it was right – and feared conflict if I questioned it. But self-discovery changed everything. I learned more about myself and realized this path didn't truly fit. Now, philosophy helps me navigate life's puzzles. I'm grateful to finally think for myself and want to support you in your own journey of self-discovery – so you don’t have to feel alone like I did.

I grew up in a not-emotionally-healthy family, and got into an emotional abusive relationship at the beginning of high school. In my 20's, I married him and turned to alcohol to cope, with disastrous and shame-filled consequences. In my 30's, I got sober, had a baby, and got divorced., Now after about 20 years of therapy, cultivating a meditation practice, and exploring 12-step fellowships, I'm in a happy 2nd marriage with another baby on the way and my life is peaceful.

As an artist, much of my life can feel like reinvention and rebirth, but at the center of all my iterations are a set of core values that is unshakeable and provides a thread through all of my stories, projects, aesthetic changes, relationships, and interests. It's been invaluable to feel grounded by my beliefs, even as goals shift. I'd love the opportunity to help you define those for yourself; to give you a sense of unshakable structure that you can use for all kinds of decisions: Does this new romantic partner share my values? Does this potential new gig line up with what I want to support? Does buying this new outfit/gadget/decoration reflect my innermost desires? Let's chat and find what anchors you to be able to make each move with confidence.