I grew up knowing what it meant to not have enough. Food insecurity was a constant presence—I learned early how to stretch what we had, make things last, and go without. My mother told me I'd grow up to be a doctor or famous author and make the family rich. For a long time, I believed carrying us out of poverty was my responsibility. As I got older, instability followed me. There were times I didn't know where my next meal would come from or whether I'd keep a roof over my head. I've relied on government programs, local aid, and people who showed up when I needed them. I learned to navigate systems that are confusing and often unkind—how to look for resources, ask for help in ten places until one says yes, and keep going even when pride tells you not to. Those experiences taught me resilience that's less about toughness and more about persistence and creativity. I know what it's like to survive instability, and I can help you find your way through it.

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 know that gut-punch feeling of suddenly losing your job. The immediate panic about how the bills will get paid, the fear that you won't find something new in time, the "what now?" paralysis. I am navigating that exact uncertainty right now. It's more than just losing a paycheck; it's a blow to your confidence and your sense of stability. I created this space so we can talk about that fear and overwhelm, judgment-free, and find a way to handle the emotional side of this setback together.

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.

I didn’t grow up talking about Roth IRAs or credit scores at the dinner table. What I knew about money came from watching the people around me survive—not thrive. I learned how to stretch, hustle, and make do. But budgeting? Investing? Understanding my paycheck? That came later… painfully, and mostly through trial and error. For a long time, I carried shame about what I didn’t know. I thought I was behind. I thought I was bad with money. But the truth is, I was never taught. And that’s not a personal failure—it’s a systemic one. Eventually, I got tired of feeling anxious every time I checked my bank account. I started reading, asking questions, unlearning toxic money beliefs, and building systems that actually worked for me. I’m not a financial advisor—but I am someone who understands what it’s like to figure it out as you go. If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by the idea of “getting it together,” but deep down you want to be more in control of your money—you’re in the right place. We can start wherever you are.

Watching single moms (including my own) navigate financial hardship while raising children was never easy, and experiencing it as a child wasn’t either. Now, as a mother myself, I’ve lived it more times than I can count. Relationship choices set me so far back that it’s taken everything just to return to “starting over.” Today, I’m rebuilding. I’m going through a divorce, raising children (some with disabilities), breathing through uncertainty, and working toward my degree. The bills still come. The anxiety didn’t disappear when the relationship ended; in some ways, it got louder. But I’m still here. Still showing up. And I know what it feels like to be unemployed, underemployed, a stay-at-home mom trying to find work and school, and carrying others through it. I've lived through crises as a child and as an adult. I can hold space for you as you walk through your.

I’ve had to start over more than once, after abuse, heartbreak, and financial setbacks. At one point, I was a single mom living with my parents, pregnant by someone who walked away, wondering how I would ever rebuild. But I did. I saved, I healed, I reached out to family for support, went back to therapy, and I learned to find myself again. Starting over felt like failure at first, but it was actually freedom. Each reset gave me clarity, resilience, and a new sense of purpose. If you're looking for someone who has had to figure it out from the bottom (50K in debt to 100K saved), I've got you covered.

As a single mom, I once felt like I had to choose between survival and living beautifully, but over time, I learned how to save $100K while still taking my kids on luxury experiences, trips, and soft life moments. No, I didn't have a 6-figure job either. It wasn’t about restriction; it was about intention. By budgeting wisely, using creative hacks, and shifting my money mindset, I discovered that financial healing is possible without giving up joy. Let me show you it's possible for you too!

I had worked with the same company for 25 years. The Owner decided to retire and close the company. Suddenly, I realized my future where I thought I would continue working until retiring was closing the doors. I had been with this company since I was in my 20s. What am I going to do? How can I restart? I have no idea. Anxiety and stress consumed me. All day I only thought about the "what's next" and "starting over". It had been years since I went to school or learned anything knew. The world was more advanced than I was and how could I catch up? I was not sleeping. I was having physical symptoms from the stress. I had been the breadwinner of my family, how can I let them down? The guilt of not continuing to promote myself through the years and the fact that I had put all my eggs in one basket was heavy. It was a heavy burden to carry around and carrying it alone wanted to make me give up. How can I reinvent myself? What if no company wants me? Financially, I was watching the money in the accounts get smaller and smaller. I didn't just want a paycheck, but a career. Ever step forward, felt like a step back. I had a good career, high up in the company and now to start over is scary, isolating, insignificant, ashamed.

I graduated from college in May 2020, right into the pandemic-era job market. I felt lucky to land a job just a few months later, but it quickly revealed itself to be a toxic environment. I was laid off that October, and a long stretch of underemployment and instability began. I didn’t find consistent full-time work again until September 2021. That second job felt like a lifeline, but after about a year and a half, I was laid off again—only to be re-hired a week later when they realized they needed me back. In the brief window of that layoff, I had already started interviewing for a new role. I kept going with the process and, after multiple rounds, landed a better job: one that came with a raise and opportunities to grow. I was then able to leave the company that had laid off and re-hired me. Since 2020, I’ve experienced firsthand how chaotic and unpredictable the job market can be. I’ve learned what it takes to stay afloat through layoffs, rejections, and burnout, and have developed strategies for applications, interviews, and finding the confidence to keep going. If you’re feeling defeated by job searching, know that you’re not alone. I’m here to share practical advice and remind you that your worth is not defined by your employment status.

From October 2020 to September 2021, I was unemployed and navigating a really tough job market. To stay afloat during that time, I tapped into the gig economy and explored side hustles. I started with Shipt deliveries, then leveraged connections from college to land freelance work in PR and copywriting. Once I landed a full-time job in September 2021, I stepped back from side hustles to focus on my new role. But when I was unexpectedly laid off again (and then re-hired a week later), I jumped back in. I began freelancing in social media for a skincare brand—work I kept doing for a full year, even while transitioning into my current job in May 2023. These days, I also post my own skincare content online, which lets me combine a personal passion with creative work. I’ve learned that side hustles can be a powerful way to make progress toward your financial goals (whether it’s saving for a car, building an emergency fund, or just having extra money for travel or fun purchases). They can also be an outlet for creativity and personal interests that your full-time job doesn’t fulfill. While side hustles can be great, balancing everything takes strategy, boundaries, and self-awareness to avoid burnout. I’d love to help others find that balance and build side income in a way that feels sustainable.

As a first-generation college student and first-generation corporate worker, I had to figure everything out on my own, from applying to schools and building a resume to opening a 401(k), choosing an HSA, and learning how to navigate the world of corporate benefits and workplace etiquette. Watching my parents hustle through the 2008 recession taught me early on that I deeply value stability—and for me, that has come from a 9-to-5 job. That stability has allowed me to take control of my finances and start building the kind of security I’ve envisioned for years. Now, at 26, I’m often the youngest person and only woman in the room, especially in my male-dominated corner of tech. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s pushed me to learn how to advocate for myself, make the most of every opportunity, and be proud of how far I’ve come. I’ve become the friend who loves to talk openly about jobs and money, and I’d love to help others just starting their own path (especially those going to college and trying to break into the 9-to-5 world with no roadmap!)

There was a time when I had no home — no safe place to sleep, no privacy, and no idea how I was going to survive another day. Homelessness stripped me of everything I thought defined me. It left me exposed, judged, and emotionally wrecked. What most people don’t understand is that homelessness isn’t just about losing a roof over your head — it’s about the crushing weight of invisibility, the constant danger, the trauma of not knowing where you belong. For me, it came after years of abuse, addiction, and heartbreak. And it was one of the most humbling, terrifying seasons of my life. But it was also the beginning of a rebuilding I never thought possible. I clawed my way back — through recovery, healing, faith, and sheer grit. I rebuilt my life brick by brick, not just externally, but internally. Today, I carry the strength of someone who’s been at the bottom and made her way home — to herself. If you’re in that place now — or trying to heal from what you survived — I want to talk with you. I see you. I believe in your ability to rise.

Like many in tech, I've faced the recent waves of layoffs, experiencing that disruption twice in the past two years. Being over 50 in this industry can bring unique challenges. Layoffs are a challenging reality, but they do not define who I am, and I have had to find my way through them. I believe that there is a bright spot, and I will find that perfect fit; it just requires a bit of a shift in my thinking and processes.

I am a retired nurse. I was a nurse for 33 years, but when my bipolar got worse, and I was on the wrong medication combination, I would lose my jobs resulting in financial instability where it finally came to a point where I had to file for Social Security disability. It was a long drawn out process, and my Church had to help me out during that period of time or I would’ve been homeless. It took about five years to get disability, but I’ve learned how to fill out the disability papers how to word them. I’ve learned what to look for in a disability attorney to help you file for Social Security disability.

Financial stress first hit me hard when I became a single mother. The emotional and physical demands of parenting alone collided with the reality of limited income and rising debt. I often felt paralyzed by the weight of financial insecurity. It wasn’t just the logistics of paying bills—it was the feeling of being trapped, of falling behind while others moved forward, and of constantly being reminded of childhood poverty I had hoped to leave behind. At my lowest, debt felt like an 800-pound gorilla sitting on my chest. I shrank in social circles where others had more financial stability, and struggled to feel like I belonged. But over time, I began to face things head-on. I made one small step each day—checking my bank account, making hard phone calls, asking for help. I learned that the fear of doing something was often far worse than the task itself. Though financial stress still lingers, my mindset has shifted. Even though it can still feel hard, I’ve seen my own strength in action. I now understand that money doesn’t define me—my values, my efforts, and my love for my child do. That clarity allows me to move through challenges with more grace, confidence, and self-worth.