In January of 2022, I was 8 months pregnant with my son, Joseph. On January 04, my husband and I separated. I dove into the most intense depression I've ever experienced; I stayed in bed during the day with my phone beside me waiting for it to ring with the news that I could come back home. I lost all excitement for motherhood. When my parents arrived home after work, I would get out of bed, trying to put on a fascade of some semblance of happiness. I would eat dinner, stay up for a few more hours, then crawl back into bed anywhere from 7:30 to 8 PM. A week or so after the separation began, I started working through a devotional book called "Broken Heart On Hold." I don't recall the author, but it was a devotional for women going through an unwanted separation from their husbands. Two of those devotionals stand out to me, and if it weren't for them, I may not have made it. The first one told me to visually "look up into the face of God instead of down into the abyss of your pain." And I did. When the pain felt like it would consume me, I would actually tilt my head upward while imagining the face of God. The second devotional that stood out to me told me to imagine my husband, myself, and Jesus standing in a meadow. I would then imagine taking the pieces of my broken heart out of my husband's hands and placing them into the hands of Jesus. Again, when the pain threatened to consume me, I would visualize this. My excitement for motherhood began to return when my OB gave me the news that I was dilating. That's when it hit me. This was happening. I was having a baby! I wanted this baby. I knew that I would do my best to raise him to the best of my ability. I would be okay. And I am okay! I was awarded sole custody of my sweet, precious baby boy, and I am now about to marry a man who has shown me a fierce, true form of love that I've never experienced before. He loves my son as his own, and my son adores him. I made it. I survived. If it weren't for Jesus, I may not have made it. But I did. And you can, too.

As a parent of eight, including two children adopted from China with special needs, I’ve experienced the joys and challenges of raising a blended family. Over the years, I've supported our kids through surgeries, behavioral and attachment issues, and setting healthy boundaries. These challenges have shaped me with a deep well of empathy and resilience. I’ve learned that trust, communication, and flexibility are key in parenting, especially when blending families or parenting children with special needs. My experience as a trained hospice worker, death doula, and grief coach has also deepened my understanding of life's transitions, whether it's navigating grief or supporting a family member through loss. I've been married for nearly 30 years, and through that time, my relationship has grown stronger through communication and mutual support. Whether you're a parent facing unique challenges or dealing with a life transition, I’m here to offer perspective, support, and a listening ear. I know firsthand the power of connection and showing up for others, and I want to help you find your strength and resilience.

I have been abandoned by my parents that is always mold and need to find relationships with the wrong people. I was adopted, but never really close with them until my later years I have spent years in a shadow of a sibling and with her being murdered I had to learn how to find myself and love myself for me. I have been through toxic relationship, relationships, abusive relationship, relationships physically, and emotionally and mentally I dealt with death of many family and friends and a boyfriend I have dealt with anxiety and depression of my own, and I’ve seen it I have dealt with A family member that has committed suicide. I have dealt with having children with someone and being a single mom thinking we were a family and we weren’t. I’ve had to learn how to constantly grow and change in my surroundings and adapt in situations that are fell upon my feet and always trying to find a positive light so I could be the best version of myself for me and my children.

Life threw me a curveball more than once growing up with an alcoholic parent, then marrying someone who struggled with the same thing. The divorce was the final blow, but it didn’t break me. It was messy, it was painful, but it was also the beginning of a new chapter. Soon after, I found love again (yes, before the ink was even dry on the divorce papers), and suddenly, I was the proud dad of four kids: one biological, one adopted, and two stepchildren. Welcome to the world of co-parenting and blending families! I’ve leaned on a lot of things to get here, support groups like Al-Anon, therapy, and an unwavering belief in mental health (especially for men). I’ve walked the line between emotional chaos and clarity, and I know exactly what it’s like to feel overwhelmed, stuck, or uncertain about what comes next. I’ve helped other guys who are struggling with addiction, messy breakups, and the madness of co-parenting—and I’m here to tell you: you can rebuild. It might not be easy, but it is worth it.

For the parents doing double-duty and still wondering if it’s enough. When you’re raising kids on your own, it’s easy to feel like there needs to be more—more time, more opportunities, more money for the extras that other families seem to have. You pour yourself into providing the best you can, but carrying the weight of two people can make even your best feel like it falls short. Do you feel like no matter what you do, it never measures up? If you’re a solo parent exhausted from giving it all and still questioning if you’re failing, let’s talk. Maybe you just need space to admit the guilt and pressure you’ve been holding. Maybe you want to release the shame of not having a partner, or talk about the fear that you’ll never feel “whole” enough for love again. However you show up, I get it—I’ve had those same doubts as a solo mom, and we can work through them together.

In 2023, I had a panic attack that made me feel like I was dying, and it sent me down a spiral of anxiety I didn’t know how to climb out of. To cope, I turned to alcohol—but the drinking only made everything worse. My then-wife didn’t believe in anxiety or mental health struggles, and the more I tried to get help, the more she pushed my buttons. It became clear that I had to choose: my marriage, or my life. I chose me. I checked myself into detox and moved to a brand new city alone. I didn’t know a soul, but I chose to live in a sober living house. That decision saved my life. Starting over wasn’t easy—I had to rebuild my identity, my support system, and my peace. I found therapy, breathing techniques, and meditation to calm my mind. And now, I’m a Peer Recovery Coach with multiple certifications and working toward my degree in psychology. I know what it’s like to feel lost, and I also know what it’s like to come back stronger. If you're navigating sobriety, a toxic relationship, or both, I’d be honored to walk beside you.

I’ve been through the kind of storm most people don’t walk out of: a high-conflict breakup, postpartum health crises, legal abandonment, and total financial collapse. I had to learn—fast—how to navigate the court system, file restraining orders, fight for custody, and apply for benefits… all while holding a baby in one arm and paperwork in the other. Now I use what I’ve learned to help others who feel lost, afraid, or overwhelmed by the system. I speak your language, I know the timelines, and I won’t sugar-coat what it takes—but I will help you map a way forward. You’re not broken. You’re just buried. Let’s dig you out.

I’ve been in recovery for over 10 years, and one of the biggest parts of my story is being a parent. I have three kids, and let me be honest—parenting is hard. It’s beautiful and full of love, but it can also be exhausting and overwhelming. One thing I’ve learned along the way is that taking care of myself is just as important as taking care of my kids. When I make my recovery and my well-being a priority, I’m able to show up for them with more patience, presence, and love. It’s not about being perfect—it’s about being real, and doing the best we can one day at a time. I want to share my experience because I know how much it helps to hear from others who are walking a similar path. You’re not alone in the challenges, and you’re not alone in the victories either.

While I never looked up to my parents’ relationship as an ideal, I didn’t realize there were serious problems until fairly recently. After more than 30 years of marriage, they decided to get divorced (a decision that came after my dad suffered a stroke and began experiencing noticeable personality changes). Unfortunately, he refuses to acknowledge those changes, which caused increasing tension between him and my mom and eventually led to him moving out. At the beginning of their separation, both of my parents involved me heavily, often trying to pit me against the other. It was emotionally exhausting and put a strain not only on my relationship with each of them but also on the broader family. Many of us didn’t know how to handle the shifting dynamics, and it led to confusion, discomfort, and conflict. Ultimately, I’ve gone very low contact with my dad and relatively low contact with my mom. But the situation is fluid. I’ve left room for things to change if and when I feel they’re making meaningful efforts. It’s been painful, but it’s also helped me grow into a deeper acceptance of the reality of adult family dynamics. One unexpected positive is that my brother (who’s 10 years older) and I have started comparing notes about our childhoods and discovered some shared experiences we hadn’t talked about before. If you're navigating the breakup of your parents’ long-term marriage (especially as an adult), I want you to know that it’s okay to feel grief, anger, confusion, and even relief all at once. I can help you make sense of the shifting relationships, set boundaries, and find peace in the messiness.

Becoming a parent for the first time changed me in ways I never expected. It cracked me open—emotionally, mentally, spiritually. I felt love so big it scared me. I also felt grief, fear, rage, and loneliness that no one warned me about. The world expects new parents to feel nothing but joy, but the truth is far more layered—especially if you carry trauma, mental health challenges, or didn’t grow up feeling safe or fully loved yourself. When I had my first living child, I was still healing from the devastating loss of my firstborn. That made parenthood even more emotional and sacred—but also incredibly hard. I was navigating grief while changing diapers. Trying to reparent myself while learning how to raise someone else. All while sleep-deprived, overwhelmed, and unsure if I was doing it "right." I’ve learned that parenting isn’t just about raising a child—it’s about becoming someone new. Shedding old identities. Confronting triggers. Stretching your heart beyond what you thought possible. And sometimes, it’s about quietly surviving the day and trying again tomorrow. If you’re in the thick of it—tired, unsure, deeply in love but also overwhelmed—I see you. You're not alone.

Life has challenged me in many ways: navigating divorce, raising 2 children as a single parent, experiencing job loss, and facing burnout. There were times I felt overwhelmed and stuck, unsure how to move forward amid so much change. What helped me most were honest moments of being truly heard, developing steady wellness routines, and learning to be patient with myself through the process. My experience as a doctor and trained listener deepened my understanding of how powerful it is to simply show up with care and attention. Now, I want to offer that same steady, compassionate presence to anyone facing similar struggles. Whether it’s relationship changes, family transitions, career shifts, or the feeling of being stuck,- I’m here to listen, support, and help you find your way forward, one conversation at a time

I grew up in a privileged family where maintaining the right relationships and meeting certain standards was the expectation if I wanted support. My marriage, lasting 12 years, ended amicably after lots of counseling. While we parted ways as friends, it wasn’t easy. It was during and after that marriage that I experienced a deep faith and spiritual crisis. Raised in a Christian environment, I found myself questioning everything I had believed, wrestling with the idea of faith in a world that often didn’t seem to care about the truth I had once relied on. But instead of running from the discomfort, I leaned into it, realizing that freedom and finding my own path were the ultimate goals. After years of reflection, it became clear that my journey was about embracing an open mind while seeking peace within myself. Since then, I’ve counseled friends through similar crises, helping them navigate difficult relationship dynamics or faith challenges. I’ve also been able to move forward into a more nomadic lifestyle, finding meaning in everyday moments and helping others along the way. It’s my hope to offer a compassionate ear and a thoughtful perspective to those who are struggling with where they are spiritually and emotionally, especially when it feels like everything is in question.

For a long time, I struggled with parenting. After giving birth to my children, I no longer recognized who I had become. It took me a while to realize that motherhood/parenthood, are not my whole identity. I had to decide for myself what parenting after divorce looked like, not what society or family told me it should be. That journey meant being vulnerable enough to admit I carried resentment and anger. Two phrases changed everything for me: “You were someone before you were a parent, and she is still there” and “You can hate motherhood and still love your children.” For the first time, I felt truly seen and heard. Once I addressed my own mental health around parenting, I realized there was very little support for parents navigating their child’s tough behaviors or mental health needs. After healing some of my own traumas, I knew I could step into that gap and offer the kind of support I once needed.

After my divorce, I found myself thrown into the deep end of single parenting. At first, I felt completely overwhelmed. My son was young, and I was trying to balance working, managing the household, and figuring out how to provide emotional stability for both of us. I didn’t always have the answers and often felt exhausted. One of the hardest things was adjusting to the silence in the house after the divorce—no more shared responsibilities or support. It was up to me to create the structure and calm that we needed. Over time, I learned how to communicate my needs more clearly, set boundaries, and prioritize self-care. I realized that I couldn’t pour from an empty cup, and that it was okay to ask for help and lean on my friends and family when I needed it. Now, after five years, I’ve become much more grounded in my role as a single mom. I’m no longer just surviving; I’m thriving, and I want to help others who are walking the same path.

When I had my first child at 21, my world shifted in two opposite directions at once. Just two months later, my mother passed away unexpectedly. The joy of becoming a parent and the heartbreak of losing one collided in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Those early days felt overwhelming. I was caring for a newborn while grieving, and I often asked myself how I could possibly raise my child without my mother’s guidance. The advice, support, and simple presence I thought I’d always have were suddenly gone. What helped me find my footing was holding onto everything she left behind—the memories we shared, the lessons she taught me, and even the moments I once thought were mistakes. Slowly, I realized those pieces could come together into a kind of roadmap, guiding me in raising my child the way I believe she would have encouraged me to. It wasn’t easy, but it gave me a way to honor her and still feel her presence in my parenting journey.

I grew up in a conservative Baptist Christian family, where my siblings and I were always under a microscope. My mother was self-centered and egotistical, a trait she still carries to this day. This environment shaped my views on relationships, especially how I navigate family connections. Despite the challenges with my parents, I’ve always tried to teach my children the importance of love and acceptance. I encourage them to be the bigger person, even when faced with difficult behavior from family members, including their grandparents. My journey hasn’t been easy, but through navigating a single-parent household, becoming part of a stepfamily, and experiencing three significant relationships, I’ve learned invaluable lessons about love, commitment, and communication. These experiences have shaped my ability to set healthy boundaries, manage expectations, and cultivate meaningful connections. I firmly believe in the power of love and acceptance for all, regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity, and I strive to instill these values in my family and relationships.

A year and a half ago, everything in my life flipped upside down. I had made the decision to step away from a high-level executive role because the stress was taking a toll, and I wanted to prioritize my marriage. But right after we returned from vacation, while packing up for a new move just days before Christmas, my husband told me he wanted a divorce. I was completely blindsided and heartbroken. Therapy didn’t quite hit the mark for me, and I struggled to find support groups that truly resonated. So, I made my own path. I leaned on the strength I didn’t even know I had, found clarity through my pain, and gradually rebuilt. I got a new executive role, one that aligns more with who I am now. And despite everything, I’ve even found a sense of peace with my ex we’re friends, and though he’s expressed regret, I know my worth and won’t go back.

I became a mom at 19 and now have five kids ranging from a toddler to young adults. I’ve raised them through some incredibly tough seasons—divorce, domestic violence, co-parenting challenges, and the constant juggle of meeting everyone's needs without losing myself completely. I’ve had babies on my hip while calming down a teen, all while trying to figure out who I was in the midst of it all. There were times when the anxiety and depression felt louder than anything else, but therapy and leaning on trusted friends helped me stay upright. I’ve learned how to ask for help, how to trust my gut, and how to talk with my kids in ways that help them feel seen—even when things were messy. One of the biggest lessons? Just because it’s hard doesn’t mean you’re failing. Now, I love supporting other parents who are deep in it. I don’t have all the answers, but I know how to listen, reflect, and hold space when it feels like everything is falling apart.

Life took an unexpected turn for me. I was a Navy veteran planning to move across the country with my son, but two months before I was set to leave, I met my husband on eHarmony. A year later, we were married, and I was pregnant with our first baby. The speed of it all was overwhelming, but it was nothing compared to blending families—especially when my husband already had four daughters, including twins. With all of the sudden changes, I had to quickly learn how to make it all work. Through the years, I’ve figured out how to juggle the ups and downs of parenting, including homeschooling my kids in a way that fits our family’s unique needs. I’m not your typical homeschool mom—I rely on a nanny to teach the younger ones and help my older son stay on track with his assignments. It’s definitely not the traditional model, but it works for us. Over time, I’ve learned how important it is to feel validated in your experience as a mom, especially when things get overwhelming. I wish I had someone to talk to in the early days of my parenting journey, someone who could help me feel like I wasn’t alone. Now, I’m passionate about supporting other moms, helping them find ways to cope with the chaos, and offering tools that have worked for me along the way.

I grew up in a home where fear felt normal. My dad used meth to cope with his mental health struggles and the pain of losing his father, but it came out as anger. He lashed out at my mom constantly, and I was surrounded by yelling, chaos, and instability. I never felt safe. By the time I was a teen, I had turned to drugs myself—starting with marijuana at 13, then cocaine, and eventually meth by 1-It felt like the only way to numb everything I had absorbed growing up. At 23, I hit a breaking point and made the decision to leave hard drugs behind. A few years later, becoming a mom gave me a new purpose. I looked at my children and knew I had to give them something different. That meant healing, taking accountability, and learning how to parent with love instead of fear. I’ve worked hard to break those generational patterns, and I’m proud of the mom I’ve become. Now I support others who are trying to rewrite their family story because I know what it means to grow up in pain and still choose to build something better.