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.

I grew up believing that strength meant being able to take harsh words, pressure, and negativity without breaking. If I crumbled under cruel or brutal talk, I thought it meant I was weak. Over time, I internalized that message and spoke to myself in the same harsh way, thinking it would make me stronger. But instead, it wore me down and made me feel small. Through practice, I’ve learned that positive self-talk isn’t weakness—it’s courage. Choosing to speak to myself with compassion instead of criticism has helped me build true resilience and self-acceptance. Now, I use gentle, encouraging words to remind myself that I am worthy, capable, and human. Practicing positive self-talk has been a big part of how I continue to heal and grow, and it’s something I’m passionate about sharing with others.

I was born into a family and community that did not believe in mental health conditions so that meant that I grew up not having language to describe when I was struggling with my mental health. If I was struggling it had to be because I wasn't doing enough, praying enough, believing God enough, having enough faith, or I wasn't grateful, I was being spoiled, I was too lazy, dehumanizing word after looks of disgust pushed me down further into depression. No one knew what I was going through but they judged me. And I judged myself because that is all I knew how to do, but I couldn't see that it was making things worse. I was fed untrue and ignorant beliefs about what would become my own diagnosis and when I was diagnosed, for the first couple of years I didn't believe it and when I did come to grips with it, I accepted the stigma from my upbringing more than accepting what I was going through because that is all I knew. Now I know that accepting my diagnoses was my first step to healing.

Before I started therapy, I realized I couldn’t keep pretending to be okay. I was deeply depressed, overwhelmed, and carrying years and years of pain I didn't have the tools to face by myself no matter how much I tried. When I finally started therapy for the first time, I expected compassion—but instead, my first therapist made me feel judged for struggling and worse than I came in. I left that session feeling even more alone and almost gave up on therapy altogether. But something in me said to try again. Over time, I learned how to recognize when a therapist isn’t the right fit, how to set boundaries, and how to speak up for what I need. I also learned how important it is to find someone who understands my cultural background and identity and have specialties that meet my needs and values. Therapy became more than just a space to talk—it became a space to heal, to find my voice again, and to learn that I deserve support that truly sees and values all of who I am. You deserve that too!

Living with depression can mean that there can be periods of time where it is difficult to do everyday mundane tasks that seem easy to do. For me, these things include but are not limited to, getting out of bed, socializing, personal interests and hobbies, drinking water and the list goes on. Over time I noticed that those things were easy to do when I was feeling good but when I was feeling bad I couldn't figure out what I did when I was feeling good to make things so easy to do! That struggle only added to the depressive downward spiral because all I wanted was to figure this out. Now that I know that I experience depressive episodes and I experience them a lot more intensely during the winter holidays, I started to build a depression toolbox for myself in the fall to prepare for the Winter season. I know that my depressive symptoms are around grief, and it's easy to experience more Isolation during this time for me. So I create a literal container of things to help me.

Most times when people think of inner child work, they think of doing things like journaling or visualizations to address trauma, unresolved childhood experiences, or deeply rooted negative beliefs, but what about inner child play? When I was deep in my mental health recovery and trying to rebuild my life, I realized that my sense of Fun and play had been stomped out with a focus on adulthood productivity, achievement, and even self-improvement. Where was the Fun of life? I felt like how do I make space for things like fun, enjoyment, laughter, and play, especially when I had no extra money, no friends to hang out with, and no leads on what to do. I now have things that I do that I never thought I would do or try that I thoroughly enjoy. Even if I only do them occasionally. And I am human, I get bored sometimes, but I have worked consistently to let my inner child explore, adventure, and play safely without pressure or expectation so I can live my life with more joy and more creativity.

I grew up being taught that I should be abstinent until marriage and if I don't I would get an std, HIV/AIDS, or get pregnant. Best case scenario, my life would be over or Worst case scenario, you know, worse would happen. The only thing I was taught about when you are allowed to have sex was that a woman had the obligation to please her man. I didn't just hear those messages from religious environments but the media too. It made me feel deep shame about who I was growing to be. Ashamed about every part of who I was. At a young age, I really felt in my spirit that abstinence until marriage was not for me. It just didn't make sense to me, but that doesn't mean that the shame, blame, oppression, voicelessness, and fear that came from those teachings didn't stay. I still believe in God, but I also believe that God doesn't need me to be oppressed & oblivious to love me. So I decided that I wanted to embrace & discover who I was as a sexual being outside of the desires of a sexual partner.

For the ones carrying it all but barely holding on. When your days are packed from start to finish, a 3pm Starbucks run still doesn’t cut it, and four hours of sleep feels like your new normal—it’s time to find the culprit. Do you need some YOU time? If you are a parent who's feeling stretched too thin and stuck on autopilot, let’s talk. Maybe you just need to vent about the pressure, hear that your exhaustion isn’t your fault, or finally talk through the weight you’ve been carrying. Maybe you want practical ways to hit reset, carve out time for yourself, or set boundaries that protect your energy without guilt. However you show up, this space is about you—your needs, your voice, and your chance to stop running on empty.

For the parents doing double-duty and still wondering if it’s enough. When you’re raising kids on your own, it’s easy to feel like there needs to be more—more time, more opportunities, more money for the extras that other families seem to have. You pour yourself into providing the best you can, but carrying the weight of two people can make even your best feel like it falls short. Do you feel like no matter what you do, it never measures up? If you’re a solo parent exhausted from giving it all and still questioning if you’re failing, let’s talk. Maybe you just need space to admit the guilt and pressure you’ve been holding. Maybe you want to release the shame of not having a partner, or talk about the fear that you’ll never feel “whole” enough for love again. However you show up, I get it—I’ve had those same doubts as a solo mom, and we can work through them together.

For the ones carrying the weight of caregiving and wondering how much longer you can keep going. When your days revolve around doctor’s appointments, medications, and constant worry, it’s easy to forget that you deserve grace. Resentment creeps in even though you love the person you’re caring for, and the financial strain of missed work or hard choices only adds to the guilt. It can feel like you’re choosing between their needs and your well-being—either way, you’re the one left drained. Do you feel like no one really understands what you’re carrying? That you don’t even know how to ask for help, or what kind of help would actually make a difference? If you’re overwhelmed, grieving, and running on empty, let’s talk. Maybe you need to vent the resentment you’ve been ashamed to admit, or maybe you want to unpack the guilt of not being able to do it all. I’ve been there too. What kept me going was allowing outside support and rewriting the expectations I thought I had to live up to.

For the ones who smile through the flare-ups, keep pushing through fatigue, and hold everything together so well that people assume you’re fine. Living with an invisible disability means carrying pain, exhaustion, and limitations most can’t imagine—yet you’re still showing up, handling responsibilities, and rarely complaining. It’s hard enough managing the symptoms; it’s even harder when others dismiss what they can’t see. Do you ever feel like no one believes how much you’re really carrying? That you’re judged for canceling plans, needing extra rest, or not moving through life at the same pace as everyone else? If you’re tired of being misunderstood, let’s talk. Maybe you need space to vent about the frustration, or maybe you want validation that your struggle is real even when it isn’t visible. I get it—I live with invisible disabilities too, and I know how isolating it can feel when your outside doesn’t match your inside.

For the ones who packed up for a fresh start but didn’t realize how lonely it would feel. Moving to a new town or city means figuring out more than just your address—you’re rebuilding your circle, your support system, and your sense of belonging from scratch. Adult friendships don’t just fall into your lap, and the isolation can feel heavier than the boxes you unpacked. Do you feel like you want to connect but don’t know how to find your people? If you’re struggling with loneliness, unsure of what resources are available, or simply exhausted from trying to break into existing circles, let’s talk. Maybe you just need to share how isolating this new chapter feels, or maybe you want to brainstorm real ways to build friendships and find community that actually fit who you are. I’ve been through it too—relocating, working remotely, and realizing how tough it is to meet people when the usual paths to connection just aren’t there.

For the ones clocking in every day but wondering if this is really the life you want. When work feels unfulfilling, when promotions never come, or when the only thing keeping you there is the pension you’ll collect someday—it’s hard not to wonder if you’re wasting your potential. You see other people building things that excite them, living lives that make sense, and you can’t help but think: Why not me? Maybe you’re curious about starting something of your own but don’t think you have the money to make it happen. Maybe you’re torn between stability and freedom. Or maybe you just need space to admit what you already know—this isn’t working anymore. I’ve been there—starting over, broke but determined, turning what I could do into what I wanted to do. Now I help creative, multi-passionate people find resourceful ways to turn their skills, stories, and hobbies into income streams they never thought possible. You don’t need to have it all together—you just need to start where you are.

For the ones who feel like they’re walking on eggshells, carrying the weight of someone else’s struggles, and losing themselves in the process. Maybe your partner battles substance abuse, untreated mental health issues, or toxic behaviors that keep you questioning your worth. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself this is the only person who will ever want you, or you’ve stayed because leaving feels impossible—whether for emotional, financial, or safety reasons. Or maybe you’ve already left and the silence feels heavier than the chaos you walked away from. You miss what was good, doubt yourself for leaving, or wonder if you’ll ever feel whole enough for love again. If you’re stuck between fear, grief, and hope for something better, let’s talk. I’ve been in that kind of relationship too—staying longer than I should, leaving, and rebuilding. And I can remind you what I had to learn myself: walking away may feel harder, but it’s always the first step toward peace.

For the ones carrying the unspoken weight of being “the first” or “the only” on their team. When you’re the one who stands out because of your identity, suddenly everything you do gets magnified. Your cultural expressions get misread as negative, you’re held to tighter deadlines, or more work lands on your plate than on your peers’. And when you try to speak up, leadership dismisses your concerns as “too sensitive.” Do you ever feel like you’re constantly proving yourself while being treated differently anyway? That no matter how much you give, it’s never seen the same way as others on your team? If you’re exhausted from navigating a workplace that feels more toxic than inclusive, let’s talk. I know how it feels to be labeled instead of listened to. Here, you don’t have to shrink, code-switch, or over-explain—you get to be fully seen and heard.

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.

There was a time I looked around and thought, Is it just me? Everyone else seemed to be climbing the ladder, finding their calling, or at least pretending they had a 5-year plan. Meanwhile, I was drowning in a sea of doubt. I had checked off so many boxes. Got the degree, the job, the accolades, but still felt empty. The path I was on didn’t feel like mine. It felt like it was expected from me. Leaving my career in biopharmaceuticals wasn’t a snap decision. It was a slow unraveling. I stayed longer than I should’ve out of fear of failing, of disappointing people, of starting from zero. But eventually, I chose honesty over stability. I admitted to myself that I wanted a life with more meaning, not just more titles. I didn’t have it all figured out, and honestly, I still don’t. But I’ve learned how to sit with uncertainty without letting it paralyze me. I’ve started over. I’ve built new skills. I’ve redefined success on my own terms. And now, I help others do the same. If you feel like you’re stuck in a life that doesn’t reflect who you are anymore or if you're craving change but don't know where to begin you’re not alone. I’ve been there. Let’s talk about what’s holding you back, and what’s possible on the other side.

I used to think burnout meant being tired. Like maybe I just needed a nap, a weekend off, or a better planner. But burnout isn’t just exhaustion, it’s a kind of soul-weariness. It’s waking up and feeling like your tank is on Empty, even after a full night’s sleep. It’s dreading your to-do list, feeling numb to things you used to care about, and quietly wondering if something is wrong with you because you just can’t anymore. For me, burnout came after years of trying to be the reliable one. The hard worker. The person who didn’t complain, who pushed through. I ignored the signs: the brain fog, the irritability, the constant fatigue, the Sunday dread. I thought rest was something you earned, not something you deserved just for being human. Eventually, my body and my spirit forced me to slow down. And in that stillness, I realized how much I had been running on fear—fear of being replaceable, of not doing enough, of letting people down. Burnout made me rethink everything: how I work, who I do it for, and what I need to feel okay. If you’re feeling depleted, disconnected, or just done—you’re not weak. You’re not failing. You’re probably burnt out. And you deserve space to talk about it.

When it came to money, my world was small. I grew up hearing “get a real job,” work hard, save, spend less, and be grateful for any overtime. So that’s what I did. I worked myself tired for years and still didn’t feel financially safe. Where I’m from, working 2–3 jobs was normal. Nobody taught me about budgeting, investing, taxes, pay stubs, or 401(k)s. My go-to excuse was always “No one ever taught me this,” and it was true. Then the pandemic hit, I met people who didn't have work "real jobs" and they had a healthier view about money. In fact, they talked about it openly. That changed everything. It opened my eyes to how money actually works and how much control I could have once I understood it. Now, I'm not financial advisor, but I am someone who had to learn all of this the long way. If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by money because it's confusing. I don' t blame you. I'm here to break it down so you know how money works and learn ways on how to put your money to work.

I’ve been through it all — the breakups that crush you, the situationships that leave you confused, and the dating games that make you overthink every little thing. I know what it’s like to care about someone who isn’t ready, to wonder “what are we?” and to replay texts at 2 a.m. For a long time I thought it was just me, but I’ve realized so many of us are carrying the same heartbreak and questions — we just don’t always have a safe place to talk it out. That’s why I do this. I hold space for people going through the messy parts of love — breakups, dating, situationships, all of it. No judgment, no pressure. Just someone who gets it, listens, and reminds you that you’re stronger than you think, and definitely not alone.