Hello! I’m a visually impaired single mom who’s been raising my son on my own since day one, and I know firsthand how overwhelming—and rewarding—that journey can be. When my husband left during my pregnancy, I was devastated. But leaning on my faith in God, the love of my family, and the strength I discovered in small everyday victories helped me keep going. My parents always believed in me and supported me through public school, and that encouragement laid the foundation for who I am today. I’m currently working toward becoming a Licensed Professional Counselor because I want to walk alongside others in their hardest seasons. I’ve battled clinical depression and PTSD, and I’ve come out stronger, more compassionate, and deeply committed to helping others feel seen, heard, and supported. If you’re navigating single parenthood, trauma, or just need someone to talk to who truly understands, I’m here—and I can’t wait to connect.

In 2005, when I was 26, I was thrown from a motorcycle at 50 miles per hour. I broke my back and was told I might never walk again. The physical pain was intense, but the emotional toll ran even deeper—learning to walk again was just one part of the journey. I dealt with PTSD, depression, anxiety, and the kind of shame that creeps in when your body doesn’t feel like your own anymore. I still live with partial paralysis and nerve damage, and that brings daily challenges most people don’t see. It wasn’t easy navigating all of that alone, especially as I tried to hold on to relationships and make peace with the new version of myself. I know what it feels like to be embarrassed, to feel broken, and to not recognize your life anymore. But I also know what it feels like to come out the other side—still healing, still laughing, and finally proud of who I’ve become. I’ve had the honor of helping others find their way through their own hardships, sometimes just by listening, sometimes by sharing my own scars. If you're in the thick of it, I’m here. And if we can laugh even once together, that’s a win.

For much of my life, I faced challenges that tested my emotional resilience and sense of self. Through my own healing journey, I learned the value of slowing down, reflecting, and developing healthy coping tools. Over time, I became the friend and support system others could turn to during their hardest moments. My experiences have taught me the importance of listening with compassion, respecting each person’s unique story, and creating a safe space where people feel truly seen. Now, I want to share that same steady presence to help others navigate change, rebuild confidence, and discover their own inner strength.

Healing dosent come all at once , it comes in fragments : naming what happened , feeling what I'd buried and slowly learning that safety could be rebuilt. Being understood became a space where I could be real without being reduced . Now I offer that same space to others , where survival isn't the end of the story, and healing doesn't have to be linear.

I’ve made some of the hardest relationship decisions a woman can face—walking away from a long-term marriage after betrayal, and later ending a short-lived second marriage that I knew in my gut wasn’t right even before the wedding. In both cases, I battled feelings of guilt, fear, and confusion—especially as a woman of faith trying to do “the right thing.” I understand how isolating it feels when you’re stuck between what looks good on paper and what your soul is whispering. Whether you’re questioning a relationship, recovering from one, or just trying to hear your own voice again, I can help you find clarity and peace.

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.

I was married for 20 years, but for at least half of that time, my partner was having affairs with people of the same sex. We went through counseling, trying to heal, but I later found out the betrayal had continued behind my back. Going through the end of that marriage while raising two kids was incredibly painful, but it also pushed me to find a strength I didn’t know I had. After a year of being single, I dated again, remarried, and eventually divorced a second time. Each experience, though heartbreaking, led me closer to understanding myself and what I truly want out of life. Today, both of my children are in college, and I’m proud of the compassionate, grounded people they are becoming. I've written a book on raising kids with empathy and now focus on helping others navigate their own transitions. If you’re facing the wreckage of a broken relationship or struggling to rediscover yourself, I would be honored to support you.

Growing up around addiction, poverty, and instability, I learned early on to cope by escaping my emotions however I could. As a teen and young adult, I turned to drugs and alcohol to numb myself, never thinking about the consequences. Even after surviving a house raid, an arrest, and a stay in a mental hospital, it took me years to confront the hold substances had on my life. Meanwhile, I found myself trapped in abusive relationships that mirrored the dysfunction I had grown up with. Through therapy, support groups, and a lot of inner child work, I slowly started to build a life based on self-respect rather than survival. I am now over two years sober from alcohol and several years free from drug use, continuing my healing journey with a focus on compassion and patience. I know how overwhelming it can be to untangle addiction from relationship trauma, and I want to be a steady, understanding presence for anyone facing that path today.

Growing up mainly involved managing my parent's emotions instead of the other way around. Conversations felt unpredictable—sometimes too much, sometimes too little—and I found myself taking on roles I wasn’t meant to carry. Whether it was absorbing their stress, minimizing my feelings to keep the peace, or feeling unseen in moments when I needed support. It shaped the way I viewed myself and my relationships. I struggled to untangle what was me versus what was a survival response to the dynamics I grew up with. It took time, reflection, and effort to recognize that I didn’t have to carry the emotional weight of others. Learning to separate my identity from my upbringing gave me space to redefine self-worth on my terms and finally set emotional boundaries. If you’ve ever felt like you’ve had to shrink yourself, over-function, or fight to be understood, let’s explore how you can step into your own identity—without guilt or fear, and heal from the impact of emotionally immature parents.

I wasn’t really able to get to the bottom of my healing process until I started to connect my shortcomings to things I had experienced in the past. Whether it was my need to control everything around me or my tendency to dissociate in stressful situations, once I realized the events in my life that caused this conditioning, I was able to change the framework in my brain in order to approach situations in a more productive way. Trauma continuously happens throughout your life, and if left unaddressed can further deteriorate your mental health as you age. The good news, however, is that once you get a grasp on your past traumas, you become much more aware of traumas as they happen. Eventually, this leads to the harmonious practice of mindfulness - basically addressing and processing emotions as they happen so that they don't accumulate and leave you feeling stuck.

Growing up in a home with alcoholic parents left me confused, angry, and full of self-doubt. I didn’t understand why I struggled so much with low self-esteem and loneliness until I started therapy. That’s when everything began to make sense. I realized I had internalized a lot of the dysfunction and had to re-learn how to treat myself with compassion. Through years of therapy and working the recovery model, I learned how to re-parent myself and begin healing the trauma I carried from childhood. It wasn’t easy, but it allowed me to make better choices—not just for myself, but for my daughters too. I became the kind of parent I always needed, someone who could create a peaceful home and break the cycle of emotional and physical abuse. Now, as a certified peer supporter, I help others who were also raised in chaotic environments understand their patterns, set boundaries, and begin to heal. If you’ve ever felt alone or ashamed of where you come from, I’m here to walk through it with you.

For much of my life, I believed being agreeable was the only way to stay safe growing up with a narcissistic parent. From as early as three or four, I learned to anticipate others’ needs, managing volatile moods. I became, in many ways, a parent to my own parents, & raised my siblings. On the outside, I looked dependable and mature; inside, I was exhausted , surviving by becoming a compulsive people-pleaser. The turning point came when I saw that what once protected me was now holding me back. Healthy love felt unsafe, my marriage unraveled, and I realized people-pleasing was not a habit but a survival strategy. Through trauma-informed self-care, somatic practices, and attachment theory, I began reclaiming my voice, my needs, and my safety. The biggest shift: I don’t have to earn love by giving myself away. By honoring my needs, I’ve built deeper connections through authenticity. If you feel trapped by people-pleasing, know you’re not alone—healing is possible.

When home feels like a battlefield, the brain responds the same way war does, children exposed to family violence develop brain activity patterns strikingly similar to combat veterans. This hour session explores how childhood exposure to family conflict and violence shapes the brain’s threat-detection systems, often mirroring the neural patterns of combat veterans. Using insights from studies we will learn to identify when we are in heightened activity in the amygdala and anterior insula—regions linked to vigilance and anxiety—reflects the brain’s adaptation to repeated danger. While such changes may serve as protective in the short term, they increase vulnerability to long-term anxiety and emotional distress. While this adaptation might offer a short-term benefit by helping children identify danger, it also increases vulnerability to anxiety disorders and other mental health problems later in life.

For the ones who feel like they’re walking on eggshells, carrying the weight of someone else’s struggles, and losing themselves in the process. Maybe your partner battles substance abuse, untreated mental health issues, or toxic behaviors that keep you questioning your worth. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself this is the only person who will ever want you, or you’ve stayed because leaving feels impossible—whether for emotional, financial, or safety reasons. Or maybe you’ve already left and the silence feels heavier than the chaos you walked away from. You miss what was good, doubt yourself for leaving, or wonder if you’ll ever feel whole enough for love again. If you’re stuck between fear, grief, and hope for something better, let’s talk. I’ve been in that kind of relationship too—staying longer than I should, leaving, and rebuilding. And I can remind you what I had to learn myself: walking away may feel harder, but it’s always the first step toward peace.

I'm a 32 year old woman who survived childhood sexual abuse and eventually got diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. I have experience with self harming, eating disorders, the pain of losing friends over something you feel like you can't control, and the grief of cutting out toxic family members. I attempted suicide in my late teens and basically had to figure out how to recover from that and make a life for myself all on my own. It took me a long time to figure out how to have more control over my emotions, how to get through feelings of abandonment, how to resist impulsive behaviors, and how to begin forming a stable self-identity. I've wondered for a long time how I can use this pain and all the bad experiences to help others, and I hope I've finally found a way.

For a long time, I carried my trauma without fully processing it. It was only after opening up about my struggles, that I was able to truly feel like I could rebuild my self esteem. I know what is it's like to hold all those struggles like a weight on your back and I am here to help you lighten the load. We can talk about anything that is triggering for you and create a safe space for you to express your feelings. I will never push you to talk about things you are not ready to talk about.

I grew up surrounded by emotional chaos—parents struggling with alcoholism and depression, and a childhood full of absence, confusion, and pain. I witnessed and experienced physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, and for a long time I believed that love had to hurt. Those early wounds followed me into adulthood, shaping my relationships, my decisions, and the way I saw myself. I experienced miscarriage, divorce, and unhealthy romantic partnerships that echoed the abandonment I felt as a child. For years, I felt unlovable, constantly questioning my worth. But eventually, I chose healing. Through therapy, education, holistic work, and deep personal reflection, I began to break the cycle. I’ve now built a life rooted in healthy love, both for my children and for myself. My journey wasn’t easy, but it showed me that healing is possible, even when life is still messy. If you're feeling stuck in old patterns or questioning your worth, I want to walk beside you as you begin to reclaim your story.

I was married to a narcissist for 28 years, and for a long time, I constantly questioned myself. Narcissists are skilled at making you feel like everything is your fault. I doubted my own reality and slowly lost my self-confidence. At first, he was incredibly charming, full of compliments and affection. It felt amazing. But once he had my trust, things changed. His needs always came first, he dismissed my boundaries, and he never truly apologized—only reversed the blame. It took me years to recognize these patterns and understand that what I was experiencing wasn’t love. Now, I help others see the red flags before they get pulled in too deep. If you’re confused about your relationship or feel like you're constantly second-guessing yourself, I’m here to help.

Parenting with a narcissistic partner is incredibly hard. My husband left the hard parts of parenting to me, while using the fun moments to boost his image. At first, I thought he loved our sons. But over time, I saw his love was conditional—based on how much admiration they gave him. Once they started speaking up, he criticized them constantly. Nothing was ever good enough. I asked him to stop, but he wouldn't. So I focused on being their safe space—someone who listened, believed in them, and offered the warmth they weren’t getting from him. If you're navigating parenting in a similar situation, I’d love to support you and help you create stability for your kids.

I moved to the United States from Serbia with my ex-husband, who was a scientist pursuing his education. We started our family here, but over time, it became clear that he wasn’t as involved as I was. Our communication issues began to grow, and as the years passed, I started to recognize signs of narcissism in him. The verbal and emotional abuse took a toll on my self-esteem, and things got worse when he had an affair. The affair was incredibly painful, especially since we lived in a small town where everyone knew. The stress was overwhelming, and although we tried to reconcile, a family psychologist advised me to leave him. Two years later, I met my current husband, a psychologist, who helped me realize that I was a survivor of a narcissistic relationship. Now, I’m passionate about helping others who are navigating similar struggles, offering a compassionate ear and the support that I wish I had during those difficult times.