As a parent of a special needs child, I understand the love, challenges, and burnout that come with caregiving. It can feel so very isolating to constantly advocate, juggle appointments, and be 'on' while trying to do all the things for your family and yourself. I know the overwhelm, the stress, and the guilt that can creep in when you realize how heavy it all is to carry. Over time, I've learned the importance of small, but essential self-care, ways to find balance, and remembering that we are more than just caregivers. If you need someone who truly gets the highs and lows of this journey, I'm here to listen-whether you want to vent, process, or share whats on your heart. I'm here, I understand.

I can be there for you if you’re battling racing thoughts, panic attacks, or the overwhelming weight of anxiety. I have skills in CBT, ACT, and DBT plus have the challenge of Dissociative Disorder and have both panic attacks and anxiety attacks. I'm here. You don't have to suffer in silence.

I know what it’s like to wake up feeling heavy, stuck, or unsure how you’re going to make it through the day. Living with depression can feel isolating, like no one truly understands what’s going on inside. I’ve been diagnosed with both Bipolar I and Seasonal Affective Disorder, which means I cycle through periods of deep depression and overwhelming lows throughout the year. I’ve had to learn, sometimes the hard way, how to manage these shifts, find small sparks of light in dark seasons, and remind myself that I’m not defined by my diagnosis. If you’re struggling, I want you to know you don’t have to go through it alone. I can sit with you in the heaviness, share what has helped me through my own cycles, and offer a space where you don’t have to hide how hard it feels. Together, we can find ways to create even the smallest sense of relief, stability, and hope—one step at a time.

I used to think burnout meant being tired. Like maybe I just needed a nap, a weekend off, or a better planner. But burnout isn’t just exhaustion, it’s a kind of soul-weariness. It’s waking up and feeling like your tank is on Empty, even after a full night’s sleep. It’s dreading your to-do list, feeling numb to things you used to care about, and quietly wondering if something is wrong with you because you just can’t anymore. For me, burnout came after years of trying to be the reliable one. The hard worker. The person who didn’t complain, who pushed through. I ignored the signs: the brain fog, the irritability, the constant fatigue, the Sunday dread. I thought rest was something you earned, not something you deserved just for being human. Eventually, my body and my spirit forced me to slow down. And in that stillness, I realized how much I had been running on fear—fear of being replaceable, of not doing enough, of letting people down. Burnout made me rethink everything: how I work, who I do it for, and what I need to feel okay. If you’re feeling depleted, disconnected, or just done—you’re not weak. You’re not failing. You’re probably burnt out. And you deserve space to talk about it.

I’ve spent way too many nights trying to fall asleep with a brain that insists on replaying that one awkward moment from three years ago or analyzing every possible outcome of a decision I haven’t even made yet. Sound familiar? Overthinking can look like productivity on the outside like you’re being thorough or responsible. But on the inside? It’s often anxiety wearing a clever disguise. It’s fear of failure, fear of regret, fear of what people will think. And it can leave you stuck in loops: what if I mess up? What if I’m too much? What if I’m not enough? I used to think I just needed to “think my way out” of feeling overwhelmed. But that strategy kept me spinning. What actually helped was learning how to name what I was feeling underneath all the thoughts, to pause the mental ping-pong match, and to stop treating myself like a problem to be solved. If your mind is constantly racing, if you’re tired of second-guessing yourself into paralysis, or if you just want someone to help you sort through the noise—I'm your girl.

I used to say "yes" when I really wanted to say "no " just to keep the peace. But all it did was leave me exhausted and resentful. I realized later on that people weren’t trying to hurt me, they just didn’t know where my limits were, because I didn’t speak up. That’s when I learned that boundaries aren’t about pushing people away, they’re about protecting yourself. When you set clear boundaries, without guilt or apology, you show others how to treat you with the same respect you give yourself. Soo...let’s talk about how to do that in a way that actually works. Everyone has their own boundaries, its just time that we gain clarity on what they are, why they are important, and what they mean to us.

For the ones carrying it all but barely holding on. When your days are packed from start to finish, a 3pm Starbucks run still doesn’t cut it, and four hours of sleep feels like your new normal—it’s time to find the culprit. Do you need some YOU time? If you are a parent who's feeling stretched too thin and stuck on autopilot, let’s talk. Maybe you just need to vent about the pressure, hear that your exhaustion isn’t your fault, or finally talk through the weight you’ve been carrying. Maybe you want practical ways to hit reset, carve out time for yourself, or set boundaries that protect your energy without guilt. However you show up, this space is about you—your needs, your voice, and your chance to stop running on empty.

I am someone who has lived with anxiety for as long as I can remember. In the past, my panic attacks were so overwhelming that I would find myself hyperventilating, feeling trapped in a cycle of fear. These moments used to prevent me from doing what I wanted to do, but over time, I’ve learned how to sit with my anxiety instead of fighting against it. I no longer see it as an enemy I have to push away, but as a part of myself I must work alongside. Problems thrive in the dark, and I believe that when you have someone to confide in, you feel lighter. Now, I want to share what I know about anxiety with others. If you are living with chronic stress or anxiety, you don’t have to go through it alone. Together, we can explore tools and strategies that make life feel more manageable, whether that means building healthier coping mechanisms or simply having a safe place to let it all out. Sometimes what we need most is someone to listen without judgment, to hold space for our struggles so that

For many years, I thought something was wrong with me. Turns out I was on autopilot just existing and taking care of everyone but myself. Until I woke up and realized it was working for me anymore. I'm a woman who’s been broken and rebuilt more times than I can count. From surviving toxic love, living in survival mode, and rebuilding from rock bottom—my journey has taught me that healing isn’t linear, but it is possible. I created something amazing that turn my pain into purpose and help others glow through what they go through. Faith, grit, and grace have shaped everything I am and actively becoming.

Resilience, the ability to adapt and bounce back from adversity, is an essential skill in the modern world. Some people appear naturally resilient. If that's not you, the good news is you can cultivate resilience through conscious effort and intentional practices. Building resilience enables you to navigate setbacks, grow from challenges, and maintain a sense of purpose in the face of uncertainty. Growing resilience requires self-awareness, self-regulation, optimism, self-compassion and a growth mind-set to name a few. I have gone through the twists and turns that life presents: family disintegration, child-estrangement, physical challenges , job and career loss. Though it was rocky, I survived and ultimately thrived. Certain practices strengthen your ability to cope with stress and to recover from setbacks. They foster growth and adaptation. Let’s navigate your current setback(s) together. Let me be your co-pilot in discovering skills you don't yet know you have.

After I had my baby, I felt like I was supposed to be glowing, full of love, and endlessly grateful. But the truth? I felt like I was falling apart. I was exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t fix. I cried when no one was looking. I felt anxious, overwhelmed, and so ashamed for not feeling what I thought I was “supposed” to feel. I loved my baby. I didn’t love the way I felt inside. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. Some days, I didn’t even recognize the person staring back in the mirror. The guilt, the fear, the pressure to hold it all together. I kept pretending I was fine, while quietly unraveling. Eventually, I cracked. And that’s when the healing started, not by being “strong” but by being honest. I started talking to other moms who had been through it. They didn’t judge me. They just nodded, held space, and let me cry. And that was everything. Postpartum is hard. Being a mother is beautiful, yes, but it can also be lonely, messy, and heartbreaking. And if you’re in that place right now, I want you to know you’re not broken. You’re not a bad mom. You’re just human and you deserve support.

My life has not been easy. I grew up in a very dysfunctional family where I’m sure there were mental illness in that family that was undiagnosed and untreated. I began seeing a psychiatrist while in high school. I developed anxiety and depression real bad and was diagnosed with bipolar in 1995. It took me a while to learn that medication was not the complete answer. Yes the medication helped but I need to develop other coping skills which overtime I did. I can help you develop coping skills and become resilient and find the hope to get you through each day.

The pivotal point in my healing journey was when I was hospitalized with suicidal ideation at age 33, and hospitalized again after a suicide attempt at age 35. Along with clinical depression, I struggled with panic attacks and anxiety from complex PTSD as well as ongoing abuse from my toxic family system. I thought I wouldn't live past age 45 until I found support from trauma-focused talk therapy and peers at age 40. Peers understood and believed me about the abuse I survived and were living proof that a different life was possible. This was vital to my healing journey and inspired me to become a Peer Support Specialist. I have spent years in trauma-focused talk therapy, consistently talking with peers, learning coping skills and practicing good self-care. I am now in my 50s. I am happy, and my lifestyle supports good mental and physical health and I have separated myself from the abusive people of my past and have healthy relationships with friends and chosen family.

There is stress, and then there is "overwhelming, I do not recognize myself, everything irritates me" stress. There came a time when I was going to therapy and learning all of the coping skills, and for some reason, I could not implement them. I finally realized that I was not safe with me and that progress was better than perfection. It took time and apologies to my loved ones and myself for me to realize that I get to choose what works for me in my times of stress, depression, and anxiety. I have enjoyed a variety of things from tapping, reiki, mindfulness, life coaching, a what works list, implementing boundaries, a nervous system reset, and much more. I would love to support you in finding out what works for you when you are triggered, tired, stressed, or feel like giving up. Together we can explore what works for YOU.

Throughout my life, I’ve navigated the challenges of Chronic PTSD, which brought about hypervigilance, high blood pressure, and panic attacks. Coupled with postpartum struggles and past experiences, this journey often felt overwhelming. Daily life became a challenge, especially with the barrage of issues we face globally. However, I came to a vital realization: setting boundaries is essential for my well-being. I learned to embrace escapism mindfully, taking time to recharge. While this journey had its ups and downs, I discovered effective ways to manage my stress, helping me safeguard my physical health. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made and excited to continue this path of growth and resilience!

For months, I kept telling myself I was just tired. I'd wake up exhausted after a full night's sleep, drag myself through the day, and collapse on the couch feeling like I had nothing left to give. Work that used to energize me felt overwhelming, and I found myself snapping at people I cared about. I kept thinking if I could just power through, things would get better. But they didn't. I was running on empty and didn't even realize how empty the tank had become. The wake-up call came when I realized I'd stopped enjoying things that used to bring me joy. Everything felt like effort—even simple conversations with friends or activities I used to love. I wasn't just tired; I was completely depleted. I had to face the fact that the way I was working and living wasn't sustainable. The hardest part was admitting I needed to step back when everyone was counting on me, but I finally understood that I couldn't keep giving from an empty well. Recovery wasn't a quick fix—it was a gradual process of rebuilding my energy and rediscovering boundaries I'd let slip away. I had to learn to say no without guilt, to protect my time fiercely, and to recognize the early warning signs before I got to that breaking point again. Most importantly, I learned that rest isn't selfish; it's necessary. If you're feeling depleted, overwhelmed, or like you've lost yourself in the demands of life, I've walked that path and found my way back.

In 2019, my dad suffered a heart attack (needed a quintuple heart bypass surgery) and the doctors found an Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm. I moved back in with my parents 10 hours away for 5 months to be a caregiver. The stress of his recovery, limitations, adjusting to new life and diet, and the unknown of whether the aneurysm would rupture was overwhelming and exhausting. We lived in fear for 3 months of whether or not he would be recovered and strong enough to have the surgery to fix the aneurysm. Every day we faced the challenges of if we would get another day. The doctors informed us that if the aneurysm ruptured, he would die within minutes. I slept on the couch for 5 months watching him recover and wait. The emotions that he felt and I felt were something that cannot be explained unless you have been there. Every day was a gift and a challenge. A 5 bypass surgery is very difficult to recover from. We had to learn to slow down, be vulnerable, push ourselves, and live a whole new life. We spent everyday learning new exercises that were exhausting and sometimes arguing to just try. I wanted him to do everything to get better, but he was tired. I was tired, too. All time stopped during those days. The only thing that was real was living in that living room next to him and just praying for another day. Our only outlets were doctors visits, tests, cardio rehab. Watching my dad unable be strong and unable to take care of himself was devastating and depressing. I hurt for him. I hurt for me. Every test was stressful. Every day we waited. The whole world stopped those 5 months. But we got through it. And he made it to the surgery. He recovered and he is well. I moved back to my house. I had no idea what a caregiver went through until I became one. The challenges of taking care of someone and living with them, giving up all of yourself and not knowing if they will make it another day is stressful on everyone, but the most important thing I could do for him and me.

There was a time when I looked like I had it all together—a stable job, a plan, a life that made sense on paper. But inside, I felt stuck, numb, and completely disconnected from any real sense of joy or purpose. I had always been the strong, independent one, figuring things out on my own. But this time, I was just exhausted. Every day felt like survival mode. I kept telling myself to “just make it work,” but my soul was getting heavier by the day. When I tried to talk about it, I didn’t have the words—and when I did, I was often met with surface-level advice or silence. So I turned inward. I journaled. I followed little sparks of hope wherever I could find them. I started asking myself, “What if life could actually feel better?” and that one question changed everything. Bit by bit, I realized I wasn’t just sad or burnt out—I was misaligned. I had outgrown the life I was living, and that misalignment was draining me. The more I got curious, the more I started noticing signs and synchronicities guiding me toward something deeper: purpose. Now, I live from that place. My life is still imperfect, but I have an inner anchor. I help others who feel stuck, tired, or lost remember who they are and why they’re here. Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re carrying it all alone—and I also know what it’s like to come out the other side with clarity, purpose, and a renewed sense of self.

Becoming a stay-at-home parent was one of the most rewarding—and hardest—roles I’ve taken on. I didn’t expect the loneliness, the constant pressure to be “on,” or the way my own mental health challenges would resurface when I had no break. I struggled with anxiety, burnout, and self-doubt, wondering if I was really doing enough or being enough for my kids and myself. It took time, therapy, and a lot of trial and error to find a balance that worked: setting boundaries, asking for help, and learning to value my own needs alongside my kids’. I know how isolating and overwhelming this role can be, and I want to help others protect their peace and thrive in the chaos.

Having a tool box of coping skills to manage the falls and low points in my life have been very important. I have quite a few and I am always looking to add more. Journaling, arts and crafts, meditation and prayer, and hanging out with my cats in my Zen Den are just a few of my coping skills that have helped me through some of the darkest and lowest points in my life.