Growing up with trauma shapes us long before we can name it.
It lives in the way we flinch at silence.
In how we over-perform, over-function, go quiet when we should speak—
or lash out when what we really feel is afraid.
In the tension between collapsing and controlling.
In the parts of us that love too hard or guard too fiercely—
because no one ever taught us how to feel safe and stay open.

I didn’t come to this work from textbooks.
I came to it from the wreckage.

I messed up.
Then I messed up again.
And again.
I had to lose a lot—parts of myself, people I loved, the stories I clung to—before I learned how to love well.
Before I learned how to stay.
Not just with others—but with myself.

This isn’t the kind of work you fake your way through.
It’s the kind of work that undoes you in the best way possible.
I was held. And I was held accountable.
And now, I offer that to others—because that’s what saved me.

I don’t have a “therapist voice.”
I won’t nod and smile while you spiral in circles.
I’ll speak the truth—sometimes boldly, sometimes with the kind of softness that sneaks under your armor,
and sometimes with just a look that says the thing no one’s ever had the courage to name.

Working with me isn’t about insight for insight’s sake.
It’s about transformation.
It’s about remembering the self you buried in survival—and finally giving that version of you a place to breathe.

If you’re ready to tell the truth,
to be seen and still chosen,
to stop performing and start becoming—
you’re in the right place.