My path into this work was never straightforward. Life has asked me to redefine myself more than once; to move through seasons of uncertainty, loss, change, and figuring out who I was again when things no longer felt familiar. Because of that, I understand how deeply unsettling it can feel when life shifts underneath you and the version of yourself you once knew no longer feels fully intact.

Before becoming a therapist, I worked in the business world. On paper, it made sense. But the longer I stayed there, the more I realized I was far more drawn to people than anything happening on a spreadsheet. I found myself wanting to understand what shapes us, what hurts us, what keeps us stuck, and what helps us heal. That pull stayed with me long enough that eventually I stopped ignoring it and chose to follow it fully.

I’ve always been someone who wants to understand things deeply. Not just symptoms or behaviors, but the emotional experiences underneath them; the relationship patterns, the grief people carry quietly, the ways we lose ourselves trying to survive difficult things, and the parts of us that still want healing even after disappointment or pain. That curiosity is both personal and professional, and it shapes the way I sit with people: present, thoughtful, and without rushing what is complex.

Part of that depth also comes from my own lived experience. I’ve experienced betrayal trauma personally; the kind that can shake your sense of reality, trust, identity, and emotional safety. It changed me deeply, both as a person and as a therapist.

Not because I believe my story is the same as yours, but because I understand how layered these experiences can be. I understand what it feels like to look okay on the outside while internally trying to make sense of something painful and life changing. I understand how exhausting it can feel to overthink, overfunction, question yourself, and still try to hold everything together at the same time.

Because of that, I approach this work with a lot of care, calm presence, and respect for what people carry.

When you sit across from me, my hope is that you feel genuinely seen; not judged, rushed, or reduced to symptoms, but supported as a whole person trying to find clarity, healing, and a stronger connection with yourself again.