I came back to who I was.
Now I help you do the same.
When I was a little toddler, I’d ride my tricycle down the driveway, carefully swerving around tiny frogs in the grass.
That’s the earliest memory I have of joy. It was just the green of the grass, the little frogs, and the feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be.
Getting back to that took most of my life.
I grew up in a home that asked more of me than it gave. There was mental illness and instability, and the adults needed more care than they could offer.
I learned early to be careful, to be small, and to take care of everyone else first. That became the operating system I ran on for decades. It carried me through my twenties, through relationships that mirrored everything I’d known, and through a life shaped more by what I was supposed to do than by what I actually wanted.
Then something in me got tired of being quiet.
By my thirties, it was rising, getting louder, and getting a little angry. I started making small, terrifying choices. I stood up for myself at work when someone tried to minimize me. I stopped waiting for permission to live my own life.
Every time I listened to that voice instead of everyone else’s, something opened.
That was also when I found energy work called Reiki.
What began as my own healing became a calling I couldn’t set down. I trained, I deepened, and I became a Reiki Master.
I discovered sound healing and felt something in me recognize it immediately. I began doing intuitive work, sitting with people in their hardest moments and holding space in a way I couldn’t fully explain but also couldn’t deny.
Over the years, I built a practice that wove all of it together: Reiki, sound healing, intuitive guidance, grief work, and forgiveness work. It’s the kind of soul-level support that doesn’t fit neatly into any one category.
I wasn’t just doing this work. I was living it.
I wasn't just doing the work. I was living it.
And life kept teaching me. I know loss in ways that are not theoretical.
I’ve lost people I loved before things were finished between us. I’ve lost pregnancies and friends who were taken too soon. I’ve sat with grief that didn’t have a clean ending.
And then I lost my husband, Stu in 2024.
It was the day before Valentine’s Day.
Within two weeks, I walked into a small gym in a hoodie and sunglasses, with red cheeks and swollen eyes, and told a stranger I needed a trainer. I knew what I knew: energy has to move to heal, and that includes grief.
So I started grief therapy that same week and showed up for myself, even when it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
Having come through all of it, not around it but through it, I can sit with women in their deepest loss, their unraveling, and their becoming. And I mean it when I say you’re going to be okay. I know, because I’ve been there more than once.
I hear the frogs at night now.
And I almost cry every time.
I’m a Reiki Master, sound healing practitioner, and intuitive guide with more than twenty years of experience.
But what makes the difference in a session isn’t my credentials. It’s that I’ve lived every layer of what my clients bring me.
The healing doesn’t come from me.
It comes through me.
My job is to hold the space steady while you find your way back to you.
You might be the woman who has done everything right and still feels like something essential is missing.
You might be the one who takes care of everyone and wonders when someone is going to take care of you.
You might have gone through something that cracked you open, and you’re still standing in the pieces, not sure what to do with them.
Or maybe you just feel something rising in you. It’s done being polite, and it has waited long enough.
