I’ve been in recovery for over 10 years, and one of the biggest parts of my story is being a parent. I have three kids, and let me be honest—parenting is hard. It’s beautiful and full of love, but it can also be exhausting and overwhelming. One thing I’ve learned along the way is that taking care of myself is just as important as taking care of my kids. When I make my recovery and my well-being a priority, I’m able to show up for them with more patience, presence, and love. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being real, and doing the best we can one day at a time. I want to share my experience because I know how much it helps to hear from others who are walking a similar path. You’re not alone in the challenges, and you’re not alone in the victories either.

I'm not a therapist. I'm not "healed." I'm someone in the trenches who shows up to work anyway and has learned what actually works versus what sounds good in theory. If you work in libraries, social work, nonprofits, education, or any helping profession while dealing with your own mental health struggles, trauma, or recovery—I get it. The imposter syndrome. The triggers at work. The exhaustion of performing "fine." The guilt about boundaries. I'm here for real talk, practical strategies, and validation that you're not too broken to do this work.

I had my son at age 23, divorced my son's narcissistic father at 26, and successfully raised an entire good man to independent adulthood as a single mom with no family support network. If you struggle with parenting in general or single parenting specifically, allow me to support you on your journey.

I grew up surrounded by emotional chaos—parents struggling with alcoholism and depression, and a childhood full of absence, confusion, and pain. I witnessed and experienced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and for a long time I believed that love had to hurt. Those early wounds followed me into adulthood, shaping my relationships, my decisions, and the way I saw myself. I experienced miscarriage, divorce, and unhealthy romantic partnerships that echoed the abandonment I felt as a child. For years, I felt unlovable, constantly questioning my worth. But eventually, I chose healing. Through therapy, education, holistic work, and deep personal reflection, I began to break the cycle. I’ve now built a life rooted in healthy love, both for my children and for myself. My journey wasn’t easy, but it showed me that healing is possible, even when life is still messy. If you're feeling stuck in old patterns or questioning your worth, I want to walk beside you as you begin to reclaim your story.

When my daughter was 11, she was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. It completely knocked the wind out of me. No one in my family had diabetes, and I had no idea how to manage it. On top of that, she’s also on the autism spectrum and has ADHD. The learning curve was steep, and I often felt like my entire life revolved around her care. I loved her deeply, but I struggled to find me in the process. Over time, I had to learn how to provide love and stability for her while also honoring my own well-being. It meant choosing a different path—one that others didn’t always understand. It’s been lonely at times, but it’s also made me stronger and more compassionate. I want to be here for other parents who feel the weight of it all—to remind you that you’re not alone, and it’s possible to support your child while still taking care of yourself.

Parenting is hard enough...try doing it while neurodivergent, or raising a kid whose brain works differently. I know what it’s like to juggle meltdowns, missed routines, and the guilt that you’re “not doing it right.” I’ve navigated the overwhelm, the school meetings, the days when you’re masking for your kid and for yourself. Whether you’re ND, your child is, or both: let’s talk honestly about what works, what doesn’t, and how to survive (and sometimes even enjoy) this wild ride. No judgment, no perfect parent act only real talk and support. It's hard and I will not tell you it isn't, but I'll make sure you know you're not a bad parent!

After the births of both of my children, I struggled deeply with postpartum anxiety. I constantly second-guessed myself, wondering if I was making the right decisions and feeling overwhelmed by the pressure to do everything perfectly. It was an isolating experience, especially with my husband often away due to his military career. Over time, I learned to trust my instincts as a parent, accept support from family and friends, and set healthy boundaries to protect my mental and emotional well-being. Therapy helped me realize that needing help didn't mean I was failing—it meant I was being human. Now, raising two toddlers, I feel more confident in my role as a mother and more at peace with the ups and downs that come with parenting. Through my personal experience and my background in counseling and community health, I love helping other parents see that it’s okay to trust themselves and to build a support system around them. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to figure it all out by yourself.

Becoming a single mom wasn’t something I planned, and nothing really prepares you for the weight of it—especially when you’re also fighting for custody. For four years, I was in and out of court, constantly trying to keep it together for my daughter while dealing with the stress and uncertainty of not knowing what would happen next. At the same time, I had just moved to a new city where I didn’t know anyone, and everything felt unfamiliar. I had to rebuild my life from the ground up, without a support system close by. It was hard, really hard. I leaned on therapy, phone calls with family, and my faith to get through it. Some days I was just surviving. But over time, things shifted. I was granted full custody, and my daughter and I started counseling together. I slowly started making connections and building community in my new city. I’ve learned how to be both soft and strong, how to listen to myself and to my child, and how to ask for help without shame.

For a long time, I struggled with parenting. After giving birth to my children, I no longer recognized who I had become. It took me a while to realize that motherhood/parenthood, are not my whole identity. I had to decide for myself what parenting after divorce looked like, not what society or family told me it should be. That journey meant being vulnerable enough to admit I carried resentment and anger. Two phrases changed everything for me: “You were someone before you were a parent, and she is still there” and “You can hate motherhood and still love your children.” For the first time, I felt truly seen and heard. Once I addressed my own mental health around parenting, I realized there was very little support for parents navigating their child’s tough behaviors or mental health needs. After healing some of my own traumas, I knew I could step into that gap and offer the kind of support I once needed.

As a mom supporting children with big emotions and mental health diagnosis of their own, I know what it’s like to feel worn down by the daily push and pull. There were days I questioned myself, wondering if I was doing something wrong or if I’d ever find a rhythm that worked for all of us. I’ve walked through meltdowns, school challenges, emotional ups and downs, and those moments where love feels heavy instead of easy. Over time, I learned that it’s not about being the “perfect” parent but about understanding what’s really underneath the behavior and leading with calm, consistency, and compassion both for my child and for myself.

For the ones carrying it all but barely holding on. When your days are packed from start to finish, a 3pm Starbucks run still doesn’t cut it, and four hours of sleep feels like your new normal—it’s time to find the culprit. Do you need some YOU time? If you are a parent who's feeling stretched too thin and stuck on autopilot, let’s talk. Maybe you just need to vent about the pressure, hear that your exhaustion isn’t your fault, or finally talk through the weight you’ve been carrying. Maybe you want practical ways to hit reset, carve out time for yourself, or set boundaries that protect your energy without guilt. However you show up, this space is about you—your needs, your voice, and your chance to stop running on empty.

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.

There is no grief like watching your child be turned against you — while you’re still alive, still loving them, still fighting to be in their life. Parental alienation is a form of emotional abuse, and it leaves deep scars — not just on the targeted parent, but on the child who is caught in the middle. I never imagined I’d experience the pain of being erased, rejected, or falsely portrayed — especially after surviving so much and just wanting to give my child the love and safety they deserved. But through manipulation, lies, and control, I found myself grieving a child who was still alive… but emotionally unreachable. The grief of parental alienation is complicated. It’s ongoing. It’s not recognized or validated the way other kinds of loss are. But I want you to know: you’re not alone. I’m still in that place — and I’ve learned how to keep showing up with love, patience, and dignity, even when it hurts. If you’re living through this, I’m here to hold space with you. To grieve with you. To remind you that your love still matters — even if you can’t see the results yet.

I used to carry my past like a chain — every mistake, every bad relationship, every moment I wasn’t proud of. I let those moments shape how I saw myself. I let the opinions of others — especially the ones who hurt me — convince me I wasn’t enough, or that I was too damaged to ever rise above what I’d been through. But over time, recovery taught me something life-changing: my mistakes don’t define me — how I grow from them does. Every stumble held a lesson. Every failure shaped the strength I carry today. And the very things I once hid in shame? They’ve become the foundation of the wisdom and compassion I now offer others. I am not my lowest moment. You are not your worst day. You are not the version of you that didn’t know better yet. You’re growing. You’re learning. Vulnerability is key. And that is brave. If you’ve been letting your past define your worth, your identity, or your future, let’s talk. You deserve to see your journey through the lens of growth, not judgment.

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

Healing didn’t stop just because I became a mom. In fact, parenting exposed my deepest wounds. There were days when I wondered: How do I heal myself and still show up for them? The truth is, I didn’t have to be perfect, but I did have to make the decision to be present. My daughters became both my reason to heal and do better for myself in all aspects. Parenting while healing is messy, but it’s also a chance to break generational cycles in real time. I'm glad you're here. Let's talk about it.

Growing up, I learned to hide my emotions because there was no safe place to express them. I became the girl who “never got upset” but inside, I did. I was just unheard. I refuse to pass that silence down to my daughters. Parenting from the healed place means creating space for their voices, modeling vulnerability, and breaking cycles of silence. It also means reparenting myself so I can show up fully for them. If you want better for your kids than how you were raised, let's talk about how we break the cycle together.

I’ve lived a full life—with all the ups, downs, sharp turns, and potholes that come with it. I'm a mother of two sons of retirement age: the younger, I'm total estranged from, and it's the same as losing a child; the elder, a practicing alcoholic, is tricky. As a former marriage and family therapist, a caregiver for my dad during his final years, and someone who has fought my own battles with addiction and recovery, I deeply understand being in hard places. My struggles were relationship acceptance and guilt and shame. I was an inadequate parent and it brought great pain to us all. But I finally sought help. I no longer accept the unrealistic perfect mother model. Once I understood my boundaries, our relationship improved. I stopped listening to abusive complaints. Now we can tell when things are "going south" and we can gracefully withdraw from conflict. Acceptance and boundaries are game changers. They can be for you, too. Let me support and help guide you in this process.

Becoming a parent for the first time changed me in ways I never expected. It cracked me open—emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I felt love so big it scared me. I also felt grief, fear, rage, and loneliness that no one warned me about. The world expects new parents to feel nothing but joy, but the truth is far more layered—especially if you carry trauma, mental health challenges, or didn’t grow up feeling safe or fully loved yourself. When I had my first living child, I was still healing from the devastating loss of my firstborn. That made parenthood even more emotional and sacred—but also incredibly hard. I was navigating grief while changing diapers. Trying to reparent myself while learning how to raise someone else. All while sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, and unsure if I was doing it "right." I’ve learned that parenting isn’t just about raising a child—it’s about becoming someone new. Shedding old identities. Confronting triggers. Stretching your heart beyond what you thought possible. And sometimes, it’s about quietly surviving the day and trying again tomorrow. If you’re in the thick of it—tired, unsure, deeply in love but also overwhelmed—I see you. You're not alone.

Raising teens and tweens has been one of the most rewarding yet challenging experiences of my life. I’ve watched my kids grow through periods of emotional turbulence, feeling the weight of social pressures, schoolwork, sports, and the constant pull of their social media worlds. As they’ve transitioned into their twenties and teen years, I’ve learned firsthand how to balance the emotional sensitivity that comes with adolescence, their growing independence, and the increasingly demanding schedules they face. In my experience, navigating this stage of parenting isn’t just about guiding them through external challenges, but about fostering a safe environment where they can express themselves without fear of judgment. It also means learning to support their emotional needs while still giving them the space to grow into their own person. Social media, peer pressure, and the stress of academic and extracurricular expectations can be overwhelming for both them and you as a parent. I’ve had to find ways to help my kids process these pressures while also setting healthy boundaries that support their mental and emotional well-being. If you’re finding it difficult to manage the emotional ups and downs, the busyness, and the social media pressures that come with raising teens and tweens, I’d love to offer my support. Whether it’s about making your home a safe space for them and their friends to land or preparing for the college search & empty-nest years, I can help you find strategies to create a balanced and supportive family environment.