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.

Relationships are powerful containers for growth and self-discovery, and I’ve spent my life studying them. After a marriage ended due to my partner’s infidelity, I embarked on a path of self-discovery, healing, and reflection. Now as a massage therapist, my clients often share deeply about their personal relationships, and I realized how much I loved simply listening and holding space for them. This inspired me to create a unique style of couples sessions focused on connection, presence, and understanding each other. Over time, I began offering listening hours, supporting people in processing their feelings, exploring their perspectives, and reflecting on what they truly want in their relationships. My current partner and I practice an intentional form of non-monogamy that prioritizes both of our individual needs and growth. We honor monogamous values as well as polyamorous perspectives, learning to navigate jealousy, quality time, and communication with curiosity and respect.

I know what it’s like to want connection but feel like the usual relationship “rules” just don’t work for your brain or your life. I’ve navigated everything from open relationships to heartbreak, queerness to complicated family dynamics, and the constant push-pull between wanting to belong and wanting to be real. If you’re neurodivergent, autistic, ADHD, whatever flavor, you’re probably used to masking, managing other people’s expectations, and feeling like relationships just…aren’t built for how your brain works. You deserve relationships that fit you, not ones that fit everyone else’s mold. Let’s talk honestly about what actually works, what doesn’t, and how to build connections (romantic or not) that are safe, fulfilling, and true to who you are. No shame, no judgment..just real talk and real support. I'm safe, affirming of all types of relationships.

Before finding my husband, I dated around in NYC for ten years. He was different from the guys I usually went for, but our conversations were seamless. After the first date I knew all the years of figuring it out had been worth it. I understand first hand how difficult dating to find love can be, especially in a city where there are so many options to choose from. Despite it all, I never gave up on finding my person and learned so much about myself along the way. Dating to find love requires an incredible amount of vulnerability and self reflection. In our modern age many people are giving up and resorting to AI companions, but what this does is further the loneliness epidemic and sabotage our emotional capacity. Love is finding someone to challenge you and help you grow, as you reciprocate the same to them. By holding tight to your own beliefs and only welcoming people(or bots) into your life that validate that, we are robbing ourselves of deeper connection and understanding.

As a highly sensitive and emotionally deep child, I developed an anxious attachment style in a busy household with overwhelmed parents. I craved deep connection, and often felt isolated and on my own. As a teen and adult, I struggled with feeling clingy, overly sensitive, and nervous in friendships and especially romantic relationships. I alternated between pulling people close, and pushing them away when I felt hurt. Eventually, I got to the root of my attachment trauma, and I learned how to caretake that pain. I became capable of managing my emotions and behaviors in relationships, and can now bring my adult wisdom to challenging or hurtful situations.

I’ve been married for over a decade, but my partner and I have been together for more than 20 years. Therapy has been a huge help in improving our communication and navigating tough times. I also helped a close friend through a painful moment when they discovered their partner’s emotional affair. It was a shock for them, feeling like they weren’t enough, and they were ready to walk away. I encouraged them to take a step back, process their emotions, and focus on what they needed in the relationship. Through open conversations, they were able to understand that the affair was a symptom of deeper issues, not a reflection of their worth. Eventually, they chose to rebuild their trust and work through it together. They’re in a stronger place now.

There is so much noise in the world - between social media, unlimited information, and even the noises - of family, loved ones, friends and even other voices, if you will. I have spent a lot of time cultivating discernment - first from understanding what my 'reality' was reflecting with the aforementioned noise, to going within and allowing myself to see what I was afraid to see, admit and even accept. When the suggestions of others didn't quite align with what I held to be true within, and the pressures forced me to act - largely from fear, I learned from pains I wouldn't wish for others: the pain of dishonoring myself. None have walked in my shoes; no one will walk in your shoes - and this is an important realization to grasp because at the end of the day, you and I are the only ones accountable to our thoughts, actions and life.

I’ve experienced love in many forms—young love that faded too soon, a marriage that taught me the cost of betrayal, and a relationship that left me with scars I couldn’t see at first. For a long time, I equated vulnerability with weakness. I stayed quiet about my pain, afraid no one would want all of me—especially the parts that weren’t perfect anymore. But healing taught me that being open isn’t a weakness—it’s courage. I overcame a lot through self-reflection, prayer, therapy, and learning to forgive—not just others, but myself. It took time, tears, and truth to understand that my worth isn’t defined by what I’ve been through. I have learned to love and be loved without fear. My story isn’t about what I lost; it’s about rediscovering hope, embracing honesty, and finding peace in being seen exactly as I am. I hope to help others find the same peace, healing, and confidence within themselves.

Most people assume that all asexuals are the same (all of them hate sex and never want anything to do with it), and the same is true for aromantics. However, for many of us, that's not the full story. For me, realizing I was aroace is what actually gave me the freedom to explore sexuality, pursue different kinds of relationships, and enjoy certain activities for the first time in my life. Learning about how I do or don't feel attraction has allowed me to view all my relationships- platonic and otherwise- in a much more liberating light. I can now find people like me and communicate my desires well, and I now have a lot more confidence in my ability to make and keep friends, partners, and other social connections. If you're on either spectrum and have trouble figuring out what you really want in your relationships with other people, I'm here to listen and help you pursue the kind of intimacy and relationships that make you and your partner(s) happy.

Loving someone who struggles with mental illness can feel like living on shifting ground. You may feel isolated, guilty, or uncertain about what’s yours to carry — and what isn’t. Maybe you’ve spent years learning how to hold both compassion and boundaries, or maybe you’re still trying to figure out where to start. This is a space for you — not to fix your partner, but to reconnect with your own sense of self, safety, and balance within the relationship. Together, we’ll unpack the emotional load that comes from constant caretaking, the confusion of mixed signals, and the grief that can come from loving someone who is sometimes unreachable.

I know what it’s like when your body doesn’t feel like your own—after giving birth, illness, loss, exhaustion, or trauma. There were seasons when I wanted closeness but didn’t know how to ask for it, when desire flickered but my body didn’t cooperate, and when my emotions swung between craving touch and needing space. It’s confusing when love is still there but the familiar ways of connecting no longer fit. For me, intimacy had to become something deeper than performance or expectation. I had to learn new ways to talk about what I needed, to laugh when things felt awkward, and to find connection that wasn’t dependent on everything working perfectly. If your relationship with intimacy has changed - due to illness, menopause, trauma, or just sheer exhaustion - I can walk with you through that. Together we’ll talk about what feels safe, honest, and possible now. There’s no pressure here - just room for truth, some humor, and rebuilding closeness in ways that feel real and right for you.

For a long time, I lived in survival mode—showing up for everyone but quietly unraveling inside. I’ve known what it’s like to feel emotionally exhausted, to question your worth in relationships, and to wonder if peace is even possible. Through therapy, healing work, and hard-won clarity, I began reconnecting to the version of myself I thought I had to silence in order to be loved. I’ve walked through the grief of divorce, the complexity of parenting, and the emotional fog of chronic illness. Along the way, I’ve found joy in honest connection, chosen vulnerability over perfection, and learned how to hold space for others the way I wish someone had held it for me. Now, I offer that same presence, a steady hand, a soft place to land, and a willingness to go deep. You don’t have to carry it all alone.

Throughout my life, I’ve experienced deeply loving romantic relationships that, while wonderful, just weren’t the right fit for me. Each experience taught me valuable lessons about love, self-awareness, and, most importantly, communication. In my current relationship, things didn’t start off smoothly—there was a miscommunication about what we each wanted, which led to a big blow-up and a breakup. However, we found our way back to each other and worked hard to improve our communication, increase transparency, and make sure we were on the same page. Through this journey, I’ve learned what works, what doesn’t, and how to create stronger, healthier relationships. Now, I’m studying to become a certified interpersonal relationship coach so I can help others navigate their own challenges in love and connection, helping them build meaningful, lasting relationships.