Dating in your 40s or 50s can feel like stepping into a foreign country—especially if it’s been a while. The rules have changed, the apps are confusing, and you may wonder if it’s even worth trying again. I’ve been there. After years of marriage, I re-entered the dating world feeling unsure, vulnerable, and honestly, a little lost. But with time, reflection, and support, I learned how to show up confidently, spot red flags early, and stay true to what really matters to me. If you're trying to date again without losing yourself in the process, I can help you navigate it all with wisdom and heart.

I was married for 20 years, but for at least half of that time, my partner was having same-sex affairs. We tried counseling, fought for our family, but in the end, I had to face the truth of continued betrayal. After the divorce, I waited a year before dating again, thinking I had done the “healing work.” But when I finally joined the dating apps, I met someone quickly and married him just 11 months later after a mostly long-distance relationship. I told myself I was setting a good Christian example for my kids, even though I knew in my gut I shouldn’t say yes. That short-term marriage ended after experiencing emotional and sexual abuse. It took my counselor looking me in the eye and saying, “He’s not going to change” for me to walk away. The process left me emotionally and spiritually bruised—but it also taught me how to trust myself again, rebuild my confidence, and approach dating with more discernment and grace. What I learned from both marriages is this: healing isn’t linear, and dating while grieving is complicated. Now, I help women learn to trust themselves again, navigate dating with honesty, and avoid repeating the same patterns. You’re not too much, too late, or too broken. There is hope—and there is healing. If you’re trying to figure out how to date after divorce without repeating the same patterns, I’d love to help.

There was a time when Instagram and Facebook drained me. Every scroll showed friends getting promoted, traveling the world, hitting milestones. I began comparing—questioning where I stood. The joy in their lives made mine feel small. Food videos didn’t help either—I’d crave more, eat more, and feel worse. One day, I paused and asked, why am I letting a screen make me feel this way? That moment sparked a shift. I muted accounts that triggered comparison and followed pages that brought peace—dogs, babies, simple joys. Slowly, my feed became a source of calm instead of chaos. Those small changes helped me breathe easier. I learned that managing digital overwhelm starts with choosing what we allow in. I began to feel lighter. The comparison faded. Joy returned. My feed stopped draining me and started healing me.

I didn't expect to spend so much time with myself in my 30s. Without a childhood bestie and/or long-term partner, the pandemic and associated remote work heightened the challenges of transient adult friendships and seeking a relationship offline. Bandage advice like joining Meetups may not work for the sensitive introvert. I'd love to help you navigate feelings of loneliness and share strategies for living contently and hopefully.

I spent nine tough years in corporate, fighting my way through office politics, chasing promotions, putting in all the hard work—only to learn that visibility matters more than effort. I got lost in bureaucracy, had to manage impossible bosses, and burned out far too often. Then I jumped into a startup world filled with freedom and ownership—yes, I had way more impact, but I also got flattened by constant uncertainty and a total lack of structure. If you’re stuck in either space—feeling drained by faceless corporate walls or disoriented by startup chaos—trust me, I’ve been there. Those two worlds demand different strategies for your time, energy, and results. That’s why I'm here: to help you navigate both with clarity, intention, and the grit you need to thrive.

I spent eight years dating in New York City, and for much of that time, I felt like I was stuck in a loop of one situationship after another, always hoping the next person would be different. I’d find myself exhausted, questioning my self-worth, and wondering if a real connection was even possible. I took breaks when I felt burned out, but kept coming back to dating apps because, well, that’s how people meet now. Eventually, I hit a point where I knew I had to stop and really reflect on the kinds of partners I was choosing, on what I actually wanted, and on the patterns I kept repeating. That shift changed everything. Now, I’m in a healthy relationship with someone who’s been through their own journey too, and it’s the kind of connection I used to think wasn’t out there. I also became a therapist and now run a dating group for women in their 30s, helping them explore what might be holding them back and how to date with more clarity and confidence. It brings me so much joy to support people through the messiness of dating, because I’ve been there and I know it can feel really lonely when you're trying to start over again.