I understand the deep, complex pain of relationships that feel like they're breaking or have already broken. I know what it's like to feel 'stuck,' going back and forth on an impossible decision about a long-term, difficult partnership. I also know the profound, isolating grief of a painful family estrangement. It's a loneliness and confusion that's hard to describe. I created this space because I'm in it. I've had to learn how to set the hardest boundaries, cope with the uncertainty, and begin to find a way to bounce back and build a new life for myself. This is a safe space to process it all, without judgment."

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.

My journey includes surviving intimate partner violence and navigating challenges that affected my family and well-being. After making the difficult decision to voluntarily terminate my parental rights to protect my child, I now share my story. Talk with me about the realities of domestic violence, the importance of family preservation when possible, and the gaps in support for parents trying to keep their children safe.

Most people don’t understand how deep the loss of a sibling cuts. I do. I lost my favorite sibling, my big brother. My favorite person! It's not just the death of a brother or sister, it’s the loss of shared history, identity, inside jokes, and the future you imagined with them in it. Whether the relationship was close, complicated, or both, I know what it’s like to carry that grief while the world keeps moving. I want you to feel grounded by the reminder that your grief doesn’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline. Also, it's okay to sit in discomfort, to not have the words, and to simply miss them. If you’re grieving the loss of a sibling and feel unseen or unsupported in your pain, let’s talk. You don’t have to grieve alone.

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.

I just assumed I'd be a parent. It was as automatic and natural an assumption as the sun would rise and set. When I married, my husband had the same assumption: we'd be parents. But it didn't happen. At first, we didn't try -- but we didn't NOT try either. Then, as time went on, we were more...deliberate. It still didn't happen. It happened for friends and other family. But not us. We watched as others went through their childrearing joys and challenges, with only one another to hold onto. We decided not to get medical fertility intervention, but fully understand the pull towards it. We wanted a kid. We did not get one. Though my husband and I have built a life in which we are happy (most of the time) and fulfilled (as much as we can be), there's always the grief for the child that never was. The answers you give others when they ask if you have children. The comments you overhear. The pang you get. The worry about aging alone. I'm here to see you in and through it. Let's talk.

I was a daily drinker for 18 years and now I have 18 years of continuous sobriety! My journey hasn’t been smooth sailing. I’ve faced addiction, mental health challenges, co-parenting struggles, and the heartbreak of losing loved ones. Through it all, I leaned into therapy and a strong support network to come out stronger. I'm now a Certified Medi-Cal Peer Support Specialist, and helping others find their footing is something I care deeply about. Whether you're navigating sobriety, parenting kids with complex needs, or just trying to keep your head above water, I’m here to listen, relate, and support however I can.

My addiction started at the age of 14 with a prescription for opioid pain medication. Over the years, my addiction continued to progress and by age 16, I was addicted to opiates and illicit stimulants. I've had stints of sobriety since then, but continued to relapse and did not truly find recovery until the age of 30, after I lost my partner of 8 years to the disease of addiction. A lot has changed since then and I have found that finding oneself is the key to finding true healing and recovery.

I lost my husband to a fentanyl overdose on July 27th, 2024. I thought my life was over, but I was able to find myself again and find new purpose in life. Talk to me about your grief & loss! 🤍

Grief has touched every corner of my life. I was involved in a tragic accident that took someone’s life and changed me forever. Not long after, I lost my soulmate to suicide. Then I lost a close friend. And just when I thought my heart couldn’t break any more, I lost my son to fentanyl a loss no parent should ever have to survive. Each of these moments shattered a piece of me. The kind of silence that grief creates is heavy, isolating, and sometimes unbearable. There’s no roadmap, no “right” way to move through it. But somehow, I’ve learned to carry it. I’ve learned that we don’t move on we move with it. If you’re living with heartbreak, trauma, or the kind of loss that changed everything, you don’t have to face it alone.

As a widowed father of four and grandfather to eleven, I’ve experienced the full spectrum of family life—raising children, watching them grow into parents themselves, and finding ways to stay connected through the inevitable changes life throws at you. After a 42-year marriage, losing my spouse was a profound loss. It taught me the importance of rediscovering who I am as an individual and redefining my role. I understand that parenting today is different from how it was when I was raising my kids. With the pressures of one income not being enough and evolving societal norms, families are facing new challenges. I’ve spent years supporting my children through their own parenting issues and offering a compassionate, nonjudgmental space to navigate these shifts. I’m here to offer a listening ear, to explore possible solutions, and to help you redefine your role in both family and life. Sometimes, all it takes is a thoughtful question or perspective to shift how we view things.

As a widowed father of four and grandfather to eleven, I’ve experienced the full spectrum of family life—raising children, watching them grow into parents themselves, and finding ways to stay connected through the inevitable changes life throws at you. After a 42-year marriage, losing my spouse was a profound loss. It taught me the importance of rediscovering who I am as an individual and redefining my role. I understand that parenting today is different from how it was when I was raising my kids. With the pressures of one income not being enough and evolving societal norms, families are facing new challenges. I’ve spent years supporting my children through their own parenting issues and offering a compassionate, nonjudgmental space to navigate these shifts. I’m here to offer a listening ear, to explore possible solutions, and to help you redefine your role in both family and life. Sometimes, all it takes is a thoughtful question or perspective to shift how we view things.

I have been abandoned by my parents that is always mold and need to find relationships with the wrong people. I was adopted, but never really close with them until my later years I have spent years in a shadow of a sibling and with her being murdered I had to learn how to find myself and love myself for me. I have been through toxic relationship, relationships, abusive relationship, relationships physically, and emotionally and mentally I dealt with death of many family and friends and a boyfriend I have dealt with anxiety and depression of my own, and I’ve seen it I have dealt with A family member that has committed suicide. I have dealt with having children with someone and being a single mom thinking we were a family and we weren’t. I’ve had to learn how to constantly grow and change in my surroundings and adapt in situations that are fell upon my feet and always trying to find a positive light so I could be the best version of myself for me and my children.

My first major losses were my dearest maternal grandparents, whom I had been very close to. Years later, I suddenly lost a brother and my father within a couple of years. My brother was a year younger and an addict, was only 41 when he died, and my father had a heart attack. I had to deal with their estates myself due to my alcoholic mother's refusal to help me financially at all. I was going through a nasty divorce due to a very long, abusive marriage during all of this, plus the year before, I was drugged, beaten, and sexually assaulted. All that grief in such a short amount of time sent me into a devastating mental, emotional, and physical downward spiral. The crisis center that helped me through the assault hired me, and I had the support I needed, but I still struggled through all the physical pain, especially. I still do. I never got justice, but I raised awareness about domestic abuse and sexual violence in the community that refused to support me. Therapy really helped me too.

I was my dad's caregiver for 7 years. He had multiple health conditions and double bypass surgery. I juggled work life balance, and also my own health. I lost my dad earlier this year and It's a very hard thing to go through. I lost my mom to cancer in 2016, and also helped care for her. We all grieve in our own ways, I am here to listen and talk you through that grief and immense sorrow.

I walk alongside those navigating the many layers of grief. Losing someone or something dear changes everything—it shifts how we see ourselves, others, and the world around us. Through my own lived experience, I know grief is not something to "get over." It’s something we learn to carry, honor, and move with at our own pace. Some days it’s heavy, some days it’s quiet, and all of it is valid. In our time together, I offer: A compassionate ear from someone who gets it. Gentle reminders that your grief is unique and worthy of space Support in finding hope, meaning, and resilience while honoring your loss If you’re feeling alone in your grief, know that you don’t have to walk through it by yourself. I’m here to hold space for your story, your pain, and your healing. 💫 ---

I was 25 when I started using heroin and cocaine. After losing my husband, I was drowning in grief and didn’t know how else to cope. Even when I went to a methadone clinic, I kept using. I was arrested at 30, and detoxed in a prison cell. It was painful, physically and emotionally, and I didn’t feel ready to be sober. But over time, something shifted. I started taking classes and slowly began to see my life differently. Other women asked how I was staying clean, and I realized helping them helped me too. Since then, I’ve led recovery groups and supported people through some of the hardest moments in early sobriety. I’ve helped someone detox while pregnant and in an unsafe relationship, and I’ve walked alongside others who thought they couldn’t do it. I know what it’s like to feel lost and beyond saving. I also know that healing is possible. If you’re stuck in that place, I’m here to talk with you through it.

Because I get it. I’ve been through the dark nights of fear, doubt, illness, and overwhelm. I know how it feels to hit rock bottom-and how powerful it is to rise.. I’m someone who has walked through the fire and come out stronger. After facing a life-threatening health scare, rebuilding my life, healing relationships, overcoming anxiety, and making powerful changes in my health and habits, I’ve learned what it takes to create lasting transformation from the inside out.

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 first experience with loss of a loved one was when I was 12 years old. My dad died suddenly of a heart attack. Over 30 years later it still hurts. When I lost my dad, I basically lost both parents because my mom turned to a self destructive lifestyle and was not there emotionally. It took many years but after taking a grief recovery course specifically to grieve the mother I never had and never will have, I have been able to heal so much of the pain. Additionally, at the age of 7, my middle child was diagnosed with brain cancer. This traumatic news turned forever changed our lives. The next year was intense and scary constantly at the hospitals chemo and radiation. Over 9 years ago they said there was nothing else they could do and the only thing left for me was to “consider putting him in hospice care and take him home and love him” When the doctor said these words, I was 7 months pregnant with my 3rd child.