My Journey

How I Found My Way Back to Myself

For a long time, I didn’t know who I was without being in survival mode.

I grew up learning how to stay small, self-sufficient, and “fine.”
I knew how to perform strength.
I knew how to be the one who held it all together.
I did not know how to be held.

And then I fell in love with someone who felt like home — and harm — at the same time.

It was a relationship that was intoxicating and soft and powerful, until it wasn’t.
Slowly, without realizing it, I began losing myself:

• I doubted my own intuition.

• I apologized for things that weren’t mine.

• I learned to shrink my feelings to keep the peace.

• I stayed even when it hurt, because I kept remembering the good.

The love was real.
The pain was real.
The confusion was real.

Leaving didn’t feel empowering.
It felt like breaking my own heart in order to save my own life.

After I left, the world didn’t go quiet.
My body held everything:

The shaking.
The grief.
The missing him.
The questioning.
The emptiness.
The waves that knocked me down out of nowhere.

Therapy helped me name what happened.
But my body was where the story still lived.

I had to learn how to come back to myself slowly:

• Breath by breath

• Sensation by sensation

• Tear by tear

• Truth by truth

I learned how to trust my own inner knowing again.
I learned how to feel without drowning in the feelings.
I learned how to rebuild my identity from the inside out — not from who the world told me to be, but who I actually am.

And slowly, my nervous system stopped bracing for impact.
My heart began to open again.
I remembered that softness is not weakness.
It is strength that has roots.

Why I Hold This Space

I do not teach from theory.
I hold from lived experience.

I know what it is like to:

• leave someone you still love

• feel like you’re losing your mind and your center

• long for the person who hurt you

• look strong on the outside while you are unraveling on the inside

• try to heal while still shaking

I also know what it is like to come home to yourself — slowly, gently, honestly.

The work we do here is not about “moving on.”
It is about returning.

Returning to the body.
Returning to truth.
Returning to the self that never actually left — she was just hiding for safety.

You do not have to do this part alone.

If You Are Here

It means something inside you is rising.
Softly.
Quietly.
Steadily.

You do not have to be confident.
You do not have to be “ready.”
You only have to be willing.

I’m here to walk with you, at a pace your nervous system can actually hold.

A place where we do not rush your healing.
A place where your heart is allowed to be tender.
A place where your story is not too much.

Welcome home.