Hello!

Since childhood, I’ve carried a backpack filled with loss, trauma, and moments I didn’t yet have the tools to process. Life has handed me some heavy chapters, but it’s also surprised me with sparks of beauty, humor, and unexpected lessons along the way. I’ve walked through both quiet and crushing kinds of grief, the changes and ruptures that knock us sideways, and the times when life just doesn’t play out the way we hoped. For a long time, I tried to sidestep that load, but eventually I had no choice but to turn toward it. Along the way, grief became my companion, teacher, and guide.

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Before becoming a therapist, I lived a blue-collar life working in restaurants, bars, and behind the chair as a hairstylist. I’ve spent a lifetime holding space for people, sometimes over a cocktail, sometimes over a haircut, and now in a therapy chair. Those years taught me grit, resourcefulness, and how to witness the beautiful mess of being human. People trusted me with their stories in both ordinary and extraordinary moments, and somewhere in there, I realized my curiosity and compassion weren’t just quirks. They were my superpower.

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I came to this work the long way around, and I like it that way. My path was not linear, polished, or conventional, and that helps me connect with people who also feel like life has not been neat or predictable. I wanted to become the person I once needed, the kind of therapist who can sit with both the unbearable and the absurd, who knows when to hold stillness and when a well-timed laugh might make the load feel a little lighter.

 

These days, I still carry that backpack, but it is softer now, shaped by meaning, compassion, and a sense of purpose. When people step into my office, I want them to feel safe and seen, but also reminded that healing does not always have to be so serious. Yes, grief can be a profound teacher. And yes, sometimes it cracks open enough space for humor, humanness, and even delight.