I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by life’s challenges and not know where to start. Through my own experiences and years of supporting others, I’ve learned that small, practical steps can make a big difference. For the past 10 years, I’ve focused on others, helping people from all walks of life build resilience and find hope. I believe in creating a judgment-free space where you can feel heard and supported. Together, we’ll explore coping skills that fit your life—tools you can use right away to manage stress, calm anxiety, and handle big emotions without shame. You’re not alone, and I’d be honored to walk alongside you as you navigate your own journey toward balance and peace.

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!

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!

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 nestled between a National Wildlife Refuge and a National Park, where my earliest teachers were rivers, native plants, and the cycles of land and sea. Over the years, I’ve worked on organic farms, in a fishery, as a nature guide, and in youth education—each experience deepening my belief that nature doesn’t just teach us, it heals us. That path led me to become an ecopsychologist over 20 years ago, and later a neuroeconomist. I’ve always been fascinated by how natural systems shape our brains, our behavior, and our capacity to imagine better futures. For me, heliotropic idealism—orienting toward what brings light—has been a powerful tool for navigating pain, while phosphorescent mindfulness helps me stay connected to wonder when dreaming feels hard. I’ve learned that nature speaks through more than just sights and sounds; it speaks through our senses, instincts, and longings. I don’t have all the answers, but I know how to ask the right questions and how to listen with all of myself. I’d love to hold space for others who want to reconnect with the parts of themselves they may have forgotten—and remember their own “wordless voice of nature.”

Born schizophrenic and bipolar in 1985, as a child I guided ghosts through unfinished business and peacefully mediated extraterrestrial disputes for interstellar healing. Why was I born this way? Only God knows for sure but I've learned to love with it! 🫶🏼 Schizoæffection is the process of melding broken worlds and renewing hope in the Eternal, connecting disparate ideas for better futures (also known as Schizoaffective Disorder;) 😻 I overcome Schizoaffective Disorder through deep listening, intentional peer support, Advanced Care Planning and eco-therapy. 🙏🏼 Let's turn madness into magic 🪄✨

For much of my life, I believed that vulnerability meant weakness. I thought I had to keep my struggles hidden and always appear strong. But over time, I learned that the moments I felt most connected, supported, and loved came when I allowed myself to be truly seen. Vulnerability opened the door to healing, deeper relationships, and self-acceptance. Now, I want to share that truth with others—that being vulnerable doesn’t make you fragile, it makes you beautiful and sets you free. There is beauty in showing up as you are, without masks or defenses. Together, we can explore how embracing vulnerability leads to strength, courage, and freedom.

For a long time, I mistook survival for strength. I stayed in spaces that drained me but ignored my boundaries—where emotional safety was optional and clarity was inconvenient. The more I tolerated, the more I lost sight of myself. Healing didn’t begin with forgiveness—it began with discernment. I had to unlearn the idea that being in toxic situations did not mean being valued. I started asking harder questions: Who benefits from my silence? What does safety actually feel like? Through therapy, spiritual grounding, and radical honesty, I began to reclaim my voice. I learned that healing isn’t always graceful—it’s gritty, disruptive, and deeply personal. Now, I hold space for others who are untangling themselves from toxic dynamics. You don’t have to explain your pain to be worthy of peace. You just have to choose it.

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.

As someone that has multiple health conditions, I have learned that while I may have pain, and while i may experience so many emotions, I have learned to be vulnerable through those conditions and I have learned how to open up, and to still respect my boundaries of my emotions, and ive learned to grow as a person who wants to develop my leadership abilities to help others change their lives and help others become the person that they want to be

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.

In the digital world , bonds form quickly over the Internet. No matter the circumstances surrounding the connection, feelings are still feelings. Our feelings get hurt for any number of reasons, but when the connection begins to feel too strong or feels a little unusual, the connection can become overwhelming. Have you ever been catfished? Have you been scammed by someone impersonating someone else or been suddenly let down by expectations you didn't even realize you had? I was misled in a romantic scam, formed unrealistic bonds with people I never intended to meet in person, and felt intensely connected to the idea of someone who was just a fantasy. I've helped friends pull back from the edge of diving too deeply in an unhealthy digital relationship and helped them reassess and redirect that abundant energy flooding in. I learned to check my own developing emotions and spot red flags. Para social relationships are a consequence of the digital world. Let's talk about it together.

I grew up as a stepchild in a home where love felt scarce. My stepmother’s neglect left me with deep wounds—low self-worth, anxiety, and the belief that my value came from pleasing others. At 17, I moved out on my own, learning resilience but also carrying constant fear of making the wrong move. Later, as a single mother, I felt even more pressure to get life right while silently battling the patterns I didn’t know how to break. For 17 years, I pursued self-development, went back to school, and committed to deep inner healing. Today, I’ve transformed my past into power. My daughter lives a life filled with love and safety I once only dreamed of, and I’ve learned to create freedom from the inside out. Now I help women do the same—healing old wounds, reclaiming their worth, and stepping into lives filled with joy, possibility, and self-trust.

"I was the alcoholic who was selfish, self-centered, and whose existence revolved around the next drink. The shame of my past—from blackouts to letting down my family—is something I deeply relate to. That old life is behind me. Through the 12-step process, I've found a new path. Today, I am a respected and reliable member of my community. I'm available to be called upon to help, and I can share how I rebuilt my life and restored relationships with the next generations."

Even after years healing and doing the work, I found myself constantly questioning: Do I belong here? Who am I to help others? What if they find out I’m not really “together”? That inner critic — fueled by years of trauma, addiction, and being silenced — whispered that I wasn’t enough, no matter how far I’d come. I could be speaking on a stage, supporting others, or stepping into something beautiful, and still feel like I was faking it. But I learned that imposter syndrome often shows up when we’re stepping into something real and meaningful. When we’re breaking generational cycles. When we’re becoming someone our past never prepared us for. And that’s not a sign we’re failing — it’s a sign we’re growing. Today, I still get nervous. But I remind myself: I’ve earned my seat at the table. My lived experience is powerful. And I am allowed to be both healing and helping at the same time. If you’ve been struggling to believe you’re “qualified” — in life, recovery, parenting, leadership, or healing — let’s talk. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to shrink to be safe.

After listening to so many people, I’ve realized most of us struggle to ask for what we want. Instead of asking, we overthink it. We play out every worst-case scenario until we talk ourselves out of even trying. But most of the time, the truth isn’t as bad as we make it out to be. Sometimes people actually say yes. Or they simply say, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” Asking doesn’t guarantee you’ll get what you want, but it opens the door. It helps you speak clearly about what you need instead of holding it in. It also reduces resentment, because what stays unspoken tends to build tension. The truth is, asking doesn’t mean you’ll get it. But asking does position you to start receiving.

When I became a mom, I thought my job was just to make sure my kids had what they needed, food, clothes, school, activities. What I didn’t realize was how much of me they were watching in the in-between moments. They weren’t just watching me parent. They were watching how I handled stress, how I talked to myself, how I let people treat me, and whether I believed in my own worth. The truth? For a long time, I didn’t. I struggled with self-esteem, questioned myself at every turn, and carried imposter syndrome into almost every room I walked into. I told myself I had to be “strong” and hide the rest. But kids don’t just learn from what we say, they learn from how we live. And it hit me that the best way to raise emotionally healthy, confident kids was to actually start doing that work for myself. To be vulnerable. To let them see me heal. To live intentionally, instead of on autopilot. That’s what this offer is about. Helping you show up for your kids and yourself

For years, I wore a mask. To the world, I was strong, unbothered, and always smiling, but underneath, I was carrying pain, shame, and loneliness. Pretending to be okay cost me years of my life and so much energy. Taking off the mask felt terrifying. What if people rejected the real me? But slowly, I found freedom in authenticity. Joy doesn’t come from being perfect; instead, it comes from being honest. Once I let my mask down, I discovered a lighter, truer version of myself. Let me help you do the same.

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 relocating during a career change, I have been there and have would love to support you with finding confidence and navigating this with more ease.