There are so many things I thought I would do and be -- and then finances, family dynamics, accidents, illness...life happened. I had to redefine myself: who I am, how I move through the world, and how I find meaning. It's a quiet pain to trade one dream for another, one that feels a whole lot like failure. And in our culture, we bear our perceived failures in silence, missing out on the opportunity to connect with one another over a very common, very human experience. Let's break the stigma together. We can mourn the you that you lost or who will never be, dream out loud about you you are becoming, and, even, if useful, start to draw up a plan for how to bridge the gaps and fill the missing spots that make it feel hard to see the next steps. Let's meet the today you, with all your talents and challenges, and map a life that's yours.

I'm a small-town Colorado librarian, single mom, and suicide loss survivor who's navigated my own share of toxic relationships and narcissistic abuse. I have C-PTSD, and part of that comes from abuse dynamics that took me way too long to recognize and even longer to escape. I know what it's like to question your own reality. To wonder if you're the crazy one. To feel like you're losing your mind while everyone else thinks your abuser is charming. To finally leave and then struggle with the guilt, the trauma bonds, the fear of being "too damaged" now. I'm not a therapist. I'm someone who's been through it, done the work, and come out the other side still standing. I know the difference between what helps and what's just more gaslighting disguised as self-help. If you're recovering from narcissistic abuse - whether you just left, left years ago, or are still trying to figure out if what you experienced was "bad enough" - I'm here for the real talk without the toxic positivity.

Growing up around addiction, poverty, and instability, I learned early on to cope by escaping my emotions however I could. As a teen and young adult, I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb myself, never thinking about the consequences. Even after surviving a house raid, an arrest, and a stay in a mental hospital, it took me years to confront the hold substances had on my life. Meanwhile, I found myself trapped in abusive relationships that mirrored the dysfunction I had grown up with. Through therapy, support groups, and a lot of inner child work, I slowly started to build a life based on self-respect rather than survival. I am now over two years sober from alcohol and several years free from drug use, continuing my healing journey with a focus on compassion and patience. I know how overwhelming it can be to untangle addiction from relationship trauma, and I want to be a steady, understanding presence for anyone facing that path today.

I’ve seen how hard it is to walk away from someone you once loved, even when you know the relationship isn’t healthy. One of the most impactful moments in my life was helping a close friend recognize that she was in a toxic relationship. She kept holding on to the rare good moments, second-guessing herself, and rationalizing her partner’s disrespectful behavior. I didn’t push—I just listened, gently asked questions, and helped her see how those patterns were affecting her self-worth. We talked through what healthy love really looks like, and I encouraged her to keep track of what she was experiencing so she could see it more clearly. Over time, she found the clarity and courage to leave. That experience taught me how deeply we crave connection—even when it hurts—and how valuable it is to have someone by your side while you figure things out.

I grew up nestled between a National Wildlife Refuge and a National Park, where my earliest teachers were rivers, native plants, and the cycles of land and sea. Over the years, I’ve worked on organic farms, in a fishery, as a nature guide, and in youth education—each experience deepening my belief that nature doesn’t just teach us, it heals us. That path led me to become an ecopsychologist over 20 years ago, and later a neuroeconomist. I’ve always been fascinated by how natural systems shape our brains, our behavior, and our capacity to imagine better futures. For me, heliotropic idealism—orienting toward what brings light—has been a powerful tool for navigating pain, while phosphorescent mindfulness helps me stay connected to wonder when dreaming feels hard. I’ve learned that nature speaks through more than just sights and sounds; it speaks through our senses, instincts, and longings. I don’t have all the answers, but I know how to ask the right questions and how to listen with all of myself. I’d love to hold space for others who want to reconnect with the parts of themselves they may have forgotten—and remember their own “wordless voice of nature.”

For 15 years, I lived in active addiction, using heroin and fentanyl from the time I was 14. Despite multiple attempts to get clean, I never truly committed to recovery. I’d use up resources and burn bridges, but nothing ever stuck. I didn’t know how to make recovery real, and I was just going through the motions of life. It wasn’t until I made the decision to actually want to live, to find meaning in my life, that everything started to change. Recovery became possible for me when I realized it wasn’t just about stopping my drug use, it was about finding a deeper purpose. In February 2022, I celebrated three years in recovery. I now live with intention and purpose, and every day I make the choice to stay sober because I believe in the life I’m building. I’ve found fulfillment in helping others as a Certified Peer Specialist, guiding them to see that recovery is not just about quitting, it’s about choosing to live with meaning. I truly believe that when you decide to embrace life fully, recovery becomes not only possible but worth everything.

For 15 years, I lived in active addiction, using heroin and fentanyl from the time I was 14. Despite multiple attempts to get clean, I never truly committed to recovery. I’d use up resources and burn bridges, but nothing ever stuck. I didn’t know how to make recovery real, and I was just going through the motions of life. It wasn’t until I made the decision to actually want to live, to find meaning in my life, that everything started to change. Recovery became possible for me when I realized it wasn’t just about stopping my drug use, it was about finding a deeper purpose. In February 2022, I celebrated three years in recovery. I now live with intention and purpose, and every day I make the choice to stay sober because I believe in the life I’m building. I’ve found fulfillment in helping others as a Certified Peer Specialist, guiding them to see that recovery is not just about quitting, it’s about choosing to live with meaning. I truly believe that when you decide to embrace life fully, recovery becomes not only possible but worth everything.

Ever had conversations that should have been simple—expressing feelings, setting boundaries, navigating friendships—but felt like puzzles with missing pieces? Yeah, always been that way with me. Sometimes I felt like too much, sometimes too little, and almost always like I was being misunderstood. I’ve spent years untangling that sense of disconnection—communicating in a way that feels true to me while still bridging the gap with others. Through my work in peer support, I’ve helped people recognize their own emotional language, whether it’s through words, actions, or quiet understanding. You don’t have to force yourself into someone else’s mold to be heard. If you’ve ever struggled to express your feelings or felt like you just don’t "fit" emotionally, I get it. Let’s explore how you naturally communicate and find ways to connect with the people who truly understand you.

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.

Mindfulness has been a grounding practice in my own journey—helping me slow down, reconnect with my breath, and find presence even in difficult moments. When life feels overwhelming, mindfulness can become a safe place to return to. It doesn’t erase the challenges, but it gives us tools to meet them with more calm, clarity, and compassion. In our time together, I offer: Gentle guidance in grounding and centering practices Support in noticing and honoring your emotions without judgment Space to explore mindfulness as a way of softening stress and anxiety Practical tools you can bring into your daily life to create balance and inner peace Whether you’re brand new to mindfulness or deepening your practice, I will walk alongside you—helping you find presence in the moment, one breath at a time. 🌿

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.

For years, I noticed a pattern in my life: relationships that didn’t work, family that criticized, jobs that felt unfulfilling, and efforts that seemed invisible. I complained, gave more, hoped people would see my value—but nothing changed. I felt stuck, frustrated, and like a victim. Eventually, I realized that waiting for others to validate me wasn’t the answer. I had to take responsibility for my own goals, dreams, and needs. It was scary because it meant I alone held the power to succeed—or fail. Through reflection and intentional changes, I slowly regained confidence, learned to make choices that served me, and discovered what it truly means to feel in control of my life.

I became a mom at 25, and soon after, I found myself juggling the complexities of single motherhood. My son was diagnosed with autism, and my ex-husband’s alcoholism created an even more unpredictable and chaotic environment. Going back to school for my master’s degree at 31 while raising my son wasn’t easy—especially since I was living on public assistance during that time. But, despite the challenges, I made it through. I learned how to manage my emotions, not expect perfection from myself, and embrace the mess that comes with being a single parent. There were times I wanted to scream in frustration, but I learned to let go of some societal expectations about what "perfect" parenting looks like. My experiences with co-parenting, financial instability, and trying to create a stable home for my son have given me a deep well of empathy for anyone trying to do their best under tough circumstances. Now, as a therapist, I know how powerful it is to simply show up and be real with someone, rather than offering advice that doesn’t land. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about showing up, messy and all.

As a senior, I’ve witnessed and adapted to six decades of change: from black-and-white TV to color, from rotary phones to FaceTime, and from handwritten letters to instant texts. We’ve gone from walk-in restaurants to delivery apps, and from friendly cashiers to self-checkout and grocery delivery. I’ve seen the first Mac, iPods, and the dawn of online banking and 401(k)s. We now navigate AI, including ChatGPT, and stream live shows—from real music to AI-generated concerts—yet we remain resilient. Through it all, we’ve proven we can keep up, learn, and thrive. As a Warmer Everyday Expert, my offering is about seniors supporting other seniors: sharing wisdom, embracing constant change, and reminding each other that we are strong, adaptable, and ready for whatever comes next. Let’s show that seniors are not just surviving, but actively shaping and thriving in this ever-evolving world.

I didn’t grow up in safety—I grew up surviving systems that were never designed to hold me. I was a foster youth, raised without a reliable mirror, without the language for my pain, without the certainty that I belonged anywhere. And yet—somewhere deep within—I always believed I was meant to become somebody. Not somebody famous, not somebody praised, but somebody whole. That belief carried me through institutions, loss, abandonment, and the kind of betrayal that teaches you to disappear yourself just to stay close to love. I went on to become an author, speaker, Executive Coach, and Senior Teacher at the Hoffman Institute—where I later created one of the first BIPOC-centered emotional healing modalities in that organization’s 50+ year history. But before any of those titles, I was just a girl trying to find her way back to her own name. What I bring to others now isn’t just training. It’s hard-won insight. I know what it’s like to feel emotionally homeless. Let's just start here.

For the ones who feel like they’re walking on eggshells, carrying the weight of someone else’s struggles, and losing themselves in the process. Maybe your partner battles substance abuse, untreated mental health issues, or toxic behaviors that keep you questioning your worth. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself this is the only person who will ever want you, or you’ve stayed because leaving feels impossible—whether for emotional, financial, or safety reasons. Or maybe you’ve already left and the silence feels heavier than the chaos you walked away from. You miss what was good, doubt yourself for leaving, or wonder if you’ll ever feel whole enough for love again. If you’re stuck between fear, grief, and hope for something better, let’s talk. I’ve been in that kind of relationship too—staying longer than I should, leaving, and rebuilding. And I can remind you what I had to learn myself: walking away may feel harder, but it’s always the first step toward peace.

Sobriety truly gave me a second chance at life — but it also meant starting over in ways I never expected. After years of fight or flight, freeze, survival mode, and trauma my confidence was shattered. My work history was full of gaps, or roles I had outgrown. I wasn’t sure where I fit anymore — or if anyone would give me a chance. But I decided I was worth investing in. I explored new paths, took classes, asked questions, and learned how to talk about my past with strength instead of shame. I focused on reskilling — not just professionally, but emotionally and mentally, too. Every step I took helped rebuild the belief that I could contribute, succeed, and even thrive. Whether you’re restarting a career, going back to school, or dreaming about something totally new — I get it. You don’t have to figure it all out at once. I’d love to help you explore what’s next and show you that sobriety is not the end of your potential — it’s the beginning.

Before recovery, I didn’t even know what boundaries were — let alone how to set them. I thought love meant overextending. I thought forgiveness meant tolerating abuse. And I thought saying “no” would mean I’d be rejected, abandoned, or seen as selfish. In early sobriety, I realized that my lack of boundaries was keeping me stuck in cycles of guilt, burnout, and trauma. I had to learn — often the hard way — that healing requires protection. That peace doesn’t just come from quitting substances or leaving toxic relationships. It comes from learning how to say: This is okay. This is not. Boundaries helped me rebuild my identity. They gave me space to grieve, to grow, and to finally feel safe — in my own skin, and in my relationships. And while it’s still a practice, not perfection, I no longer feel guilty for protecting my healing. If you’re learning how to set boundaries in your recovery journey — with family, friends, work, or even yourself — I would be honored to walk beside you as you practice saying yes to yourself.

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

For years, I confused avoidance with independence. I thought shutting down, not needing anyone, and pushing people away meant I was strong but it wasn't until years of therapy and some self-awareness I realized I was just afraid. I was afraid of being abandoned, and truly afraid of being seen. After healing my avoidance, I soon found myself becoming anxious in dating and picking avoidant partners. Dating avoidant partners felt safe because they never required vulnerability, but it also kept me stuck in surface-level relationships. Through therapy, journaling, and a lot of self-work, I faced my fears and learned that true strength is letting yourself be loved. I can confidently say that I have kicked the avoidant & anxious attachment styles. If you're one of these (scared to get close to others, or always afraid or anxious that those close to you are going to eventually pull away), or just need some insight on the two. Let's chat!