I went through a whirlwind of life transitions, including raising my daughter alone through to adulthood, facing the empty nest, returning to college, and pursuing my Bachelor's and Master's degrees, as well as a graduate certificate. I was navigating extreme change from dyeing my hair fun colors and exploring dating to marrying and separating in a blink of an eye. I know what it feels like to hit the reset button, no matter your age. Suddenly, I found my way back to myself. Let's work together to embrace your next pivot and build resilience when life feels like it's spinning out of control.

There was a time in my life when everything felt paused. I was between jobs, unsure of my next step, watching others move forward while I sat still. People would say, “Something will come along,” but the waiting felt like slow erosion. My self-worth was tied to progress, and without it, I felt small. I learned how to sit with the discomfort, how to extract meaning from stillness, and how to build a life that didn’t depend on a clear next chapter. I began to ask myself deeper questions about purpose, identity, and what truly mattered.

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.

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 married when my husband told me he should have been a woman. That revelation cracked open everything I thought I knew—about my marriage, my sexuality, and my worth as a woman. I questioned my desirability, my femininity, and whether my needs even mattered. I attempted to go along with this change for about a year but divorce was the end result. I walked through a storm of emotions that most people never talk about. It's affected me in surprising and lasting ways. I'm very liberal and have many trans and queer friends but having my partner want that within our relationship was really something I never thought i'd have to navigate. More then anything tho, i yearned to find someone who had gone through what i was going thru. It was incredibly isolating.

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 thought resilience meant pushing through—gritting my teeth, swallowing feelings, and forcing myself to ‘just deal with it.’ But that left me drained and butting against as brick wall. You see, strength isn’t just enduring struggles; it’s about adapting, processing, and allowing yourself space to heal. Self-compassion was the hardest piece. I didn’t realize how much I held myself to unrealistic standards, expecting perfection where I should’ve offered myself grace. Over time, I started embracing the idea that strength isn’t about ignoring pain—it’s about acknowledging it and choosing how to move forward with care. Through my work in peer support, I’ve helped others cultivate resilience in a way that feels sustainable—balancing the need for self-protection with the power of self-kindness. If you’ve ever felt like you’re being too hard on yourself or struggling to recover from challenges, I get it. Let’s explore ways to navigate life with strength and softness.

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've restarted more than I can count: education, career, marriage and divorce, new dreams and new places. I've gone through tough periods of not knowing where to turn, poverty, disability, grief and parenting. Somehow I have managed to build a life that looks like mine. Not perfect. It's got a little edge. But...it's mine. This came from the lessons I learned trying to earn my worth through productivity, perfection and trying to be the person everyone else needed. The burnout came and I unraveled, which is what I needed. I know what it's like to feel behind, broken and wondering if you'll ever want anything again. Let me meet you there and hold a light next to you. You got this.

For years, I struggled with clothes. I never fit the mold, always feeling like I had to hide my body, my neurodivergent sensory quirks, my real self. Growing up in rural Appalachia didn't help either. The game changed when I started using fashion as a tool for self-discovery and self-compassion, not just “looking good” for someone else. If you’re curious how clothes can help you embrace your neurodivergent identity, practice more kindness with yourself, or just figure out what feels good for you (not the algorithm), let’s talk. I think style is a core part of neurodivergent identity and can be a powerful tool to feel more yourself and at home in your own skin. That can look like maximalism or wearing the same thing every day. Bring your closet wins, fails, weird questions, and hopes for self-acceptance.

I grew up in a religious group that controlled every part of my life, even down to how I thought and felt. It wasn’t just spiritual, there was abuse, betrayal, and deep wounds that shaped my sense of self. Leaving that community meant losing my family, friends, and the only life I had ever known. For years, I struggled with isolation, PTSD, and questioning everything I believed in. Through therapy, art therapy, journaling, and connecting with others who had walked similar paths, I began slowly rebuilding who I was outside of those walls. It took time to trust myself again, but today, I live freely, grounded in my own values and dreams. I now support others who are stepping away from controlling environments, helping them navigate grief, find their voice, and believe that life after leaving can be beautiful.

Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, not because I wanted to stay, but because abuse convinces you that you have no way out. It makes you believe that the pain you know is somehow safer than the unknown beyond those doors. Even after I left, staying away was its own battle. The memories, the guilt, the fear, the way hope and hurt blurred together—all of it tried to pull me back. But healing taught me something powerful: freedom is possible. There is life after abuse. There is love, peace, and a version of yourself you thought had been lost forever. It is hard, but it is worth it, and most of all, it is possible. If you are on this journey, hold on. You are braver than you realize, stronger than you know, and your story is not over yet. There is life after abuse, and you don’t have to walk it alone. Book a session with me and let’s take your next step together.

Losing connection with your own worth can feel like losing a part of yourself. Through my lived experience, I know what it’s like to struggle with self-doubt, shame, or feeling “not enough.” Rebuilding self-worth isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about remembering who you already are. In our time together, I offer: A safe, nonjudgmental space where you can be fully yourself Gentle encouragement to challenge old stories that no longer serve you Support in uncovering your strengths, values, and inner voice Tools and practices to nurture self-compassion and confidence My hope is that you leave our conversations feeling seen, validated, and reminded of your inherent worth. You deserve to take up space, to be kind to yourself, and to know you are enough—just as you are, right here, right now.

I left the religious community I was raised to live and die in. My value of art, expression, and continuing education and personal development as a person in a female body led me to leave religion based in a supreme male God.

There came a point in my healing where I knew I couldn’t just go back to who I used to be. I had outgrown that version of myself—the one who survived by numbing out, by hiding, by staying small. Recovery gave me something I never expected: the freedom to reinvent myself. For years, I had defined myself by pain, addiction, and anxiety. But beneath it all was a deeper truth: I was powerful, creative, intuitive, and worthy of an incredible life. I just had to remember who I really was—and start building a new reality from that place. Through deep inner work, forgiveness, spiritual practices, and tools like therapeutic art, nature healing, and mindset coaching, I began designing a life in flow with my values, gifts, and passions. I stopped chasing external validation and started living from alignment. It wasn’t about “fixing” myself—it was about becoming myself. Now I help others reclaim their identity and become the architect of a new life—one rooted in joy, purpose, and authenticity.

Life has taken me through many chapters: raising three young men (two of whom are neurodivergent), navigating a 20-year career as a special education teacher, surviving toxic, narcissistic relationships, and rebuilding after divorce. Along the way, I learned the importance of setting boundaries, choosing self-love, and letting go of habits that no longer served me—including a complicated relationship with alcohol. The journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s made me passionate about helping others find their voice, their peace, and their power again. Today, I live a nomadic life focused on healing, authenticity, and supporting others through their toughest seasons. I'm here to meet you exactly where you are—and to remind you that your healing is possible.

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.

Relationships can be messy. I know this not just from training, but from my own life. I’ve navigated the ups and downs of dating with my own attachment wounds, struggled through communication breakdowns, and had to learn how to honor my needs while respecting someone else’s. That’s why I understand how heavy it can feel when your heart wants one thing, but your mind is full of questions and doubts. In this session, I’ll hold space for you the way I’ve needed others to hold space for me: with no judgment, just validation, compassion, and clarity. Whether you’re dealing with relationship anxiety, mismatched attachment styles, or feeling unseen in your connection, you don’t have to carry it alone. We’ll slow down, name what’s really going on, and help you leave with more peace and perspective.

Life doesn't always go as planned - it can unravel completely and you have to start over, sometimes again and again. I've moved countries, raised 4 kids while helping 2 with chronic illnesses, lost my husband at 39 (found a new and wonderful partner), built 3 companies (2 failed), and discovered that resilience isn't about staying strong. It's about learning how to fall apart and then keep going. Sometimes you don't want a pep talk; you just want someone who understands that you're tired, scared, and maybe laughing through tears at how ridiculous it all feels. Are you considering a big change or has one surprised you? I can walk with you through the big transitions - end of a relationship, a career change, partner death, big moves, identity shifts, children leaving the nest - and help you find your balance again. Together we'll explore your internal quide, make small steps forward, enjoy moments of relief, and find reasons to believe in the next chapter (it's ok if it's blurry).