I’ve faced some heavy mental loads and for years felt like I was trying to connect with people while speaking a different emotional language. It made relationships hard—romantic ones, friendships, even basic conversations at work. I’d either shut down or go all in too fast, and that constant push-pull left me feeling isolated and misunderstood. But over time, and with support, I started to explore my needs and patterns. No two people relate the same way, and there’s no single right way to “do” relationships. Through my work as a Peer Support Specialist, I’ve helped people figure out what healthy connection looks like for them—whether that means setting better boundaries, healing from past hurt, or just figuring out how to express themselves without fear. I believe connection starts with self-understanding, and I love helping people get there. You don’t have to fit a mold to have meaningful relationships. You just need someone who gets it and walks alongside you as you figure it out.

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.

Raising teens and tweens has been one of the most rewarding yet challenging experiences of my life. I’ve watched my kids grow through periods of emotional turbulence, feeling the weight of social pressures, schoolwork, sports, and the constant pull of their social media worlds. As they’ve transitioned into their twenties and teen years, I’ve learned firsthand how to balance the emotional sensitivity that comes with adolescence, their growing independence, and the increasingly demanding schedules they face. In my experience, navigating this stage of parenting isn’t just about guiding them through external challenges, but about fostering a safe environment where they can express themselves without fear of judgment. It also means learning to support their emotional needs while still giving them the space to grow into their own person. Social media, peer pressure, and the stress of academic and extracurricular expectations can be overwhelming for both them and you as a parent. I’ve had to find ways to help my kids process these pressures while also setting healthy boundaries that support their mental and emotional well-being. If you’re finding it difficult to manage the emotional ups and downs, the busyness, and the social media pressures that come with raising teens and tweens, I’d love to offer my support. Whether it’s about making your home a safe space for them and their friends to land or preparing for the college search & empty-nest years, I can help you find strategies to create a balanced and supportive family environment.

As a daughter of traditional South Asian immigrants, my upbringing was quite different than my American peers. I still hesitate to share if I'm hanging out with a male friend, even though I am pestered about marriage. Getting older has also involved outgrowing attitudes about myself, family, and relationships that hold me back, guilt included. I've worked to find my authentic self and accept occasionally being the black sheep in my close-knit family whom I love being near, but still need to enact boundaries with or know when to deep breathe instead of react. This also involves understanding the challenges with comparing to cousins in India, or peers whose parents grew up in America. If you've been stressed by the conflict of the third-culture sandwich, I'd love to chat.

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.

Do you ever wish your sibling relationship looked like the ones you see on TV—supportive, loyal, and close—but you’ve accepted it may never be that way? If you’re tired of the hurt and the hope colliding, let’s talk. Maybe you just need space to grieve what the relationship isn’t, or maybe you want to explore ways to protect your peace when family dynamics get messy. I get it—it’s painful to realize you can’t change someone else, but you can change how much control they have over your well-being. For many, siblings aren’t the safe place they hoped for. Maybe you’re just never on the same page, or maybe their behavior makes closeness feel out of reach. Longing for connection that isn’t there is exhausting, and what makes it worse is when family blames you for not trying harder to “fix” things. I’ve lived through sibling disconnect myself, and I know how deep it cuts. That’s why I hold space for these conversations—to remind you that you don’t have to carry that hurt alone.

There are days I’ve felt like my struggles meant I wasn’t enough as a parent or a wife or both. That guilt can be suffocating, but I’ve learned that honesty and repair matter more than perfection. I'm less of a hurricane to my family now and more of a weatherman. I can't always stop the rain but i can at least warn you when it's coming.

I’ve lived a full life—with all the ups, downs, sharp turns, and potholes that come with it. I'm a mother of two sons of retirement age: the younger, I'm total estranged from, and it's the same as losing a child; the elder, a practicing alcoholic, is tricky. As a former marriage and family therapist, a caregiver for my dad during his final years, and someone who has fought my own battles with addiction and recovery, I deeply understand being in hard places. My struggles were relationship acceptance and guilt and shame. I was an inadequate parent and it brought great pain to us all. But I finally sought help. I no longer accept the unrealistic perfect mother model. Once I understood my boundaries, our relationship improved. I stopped listening to abusive complaints. Now we can tell when things are "going south" and we can gracefully withdraw from conflict. Acceptance and boundaries are game changers. They can be for you, too. Let me support and help guide you in this process.

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.

My son was so depressed for a year and a half, that he missed a large part of the school year. At first, I didn’t understand or recognize it as depression, and I was pushing him to go to school very hard, which led to him getting even more frustrated with himself. After talking to a family coach, we were able to diagnose the real issue, and ask my son open ended questions to try and understand the reasons behind his depression. Then when I took the pressure off and worked on helping him feel good about himself, the depression was able to lift and he made all A’s at school the next year, and made several friends he could hang out with after school as well.

I didn’t really realize that I had anger issues until I got married and had kids. Then I discovered that when my husband and I had arguments, I couldn’t let things go and would feel so wounded by him wanting to retreat from an argument that I would explode. This looked like being verbally abusive, and even throwing things or hitting him. I would feel so ashamed afterwards and apologize profusely. I desperately wanted to change. I eventually went to see a counselor and talked through different ways to communicate with my husband, and because I valued the relationship so deeply I managed to stop exploding with him. Unfortunately, this meant that a lot of anger was then directed at my kids. After years of struggling to manage my anger, I finally realized the need for a deep healing journey, to uncover the unconscious roots that were underneath the explosive rage. In the process I became very good at identifying my feelings underneath the anger, since anger is a secondary emotion. Knowing what those underlying feelings are has been very helpful for me, along with what my triggers are. I have also discovered some healthy ways to vent anger that don’t hurt other people that I could share with you. Today I still experience anger sometimes, everyone does, but it no longer controls my life and I don’t see it as an awful thing that I have to avoid or hold in until I just can’t anymore. Instead, it can be an indication of where I still need some healing, or a healthy emotion that I feel when someone hurts me that I can release or confidently express without doing damage.

Healing from trauma often feels like swimming upstream, especially when the people around you don’t understand or acknowledge your pain. Family dynamics can be some of the hardest waters to navigate. The same people who hurt you are often the ones you feel obligated to stay connected to, or even love in ways that don’t honor your own healing. I’ve had to face this challenge myself—balancing the desire for connection with the need for self-protection. The truth is, healing from trauma doesn’t always mean cutting off family. Sometimes, it means learning how to show up for yourself in their presence. Setting boundaries that are both firm and loving. And learning to hold space for the reality that people may never change in the ways you want them to. In my own journey, I’ve had to face painful truths about my family’s role in my trauma. I’ve had to find the courage to protect myself while still navigating relationships that are deeply rooted in my history. And I’ve learned that healing isn’t just about what you leave behind—it’s also about how you choose to move forward, even with the difficult people and dynamics still in your life. If you’re struggling with how to show up for yourself while still holding space for family, I’d love to talk. You don’t have to go through it alone.

Ever since I was a child, my dream was to be a stay-at-home mom. When I finally had kids, I loved them deeply, but I quickly realized parenting was much tougher than I had imagined. I carried high expectations into motherhood, shaped by a culture where achievements were praised and kids were often compared to others. I expected a lot from my children and, without meaning to, placed a heavy burden on them. This led to frustration, tension, and a lot of anger that I didn’t know how to manage at first. Over time, through self-reflection and a real desire to change, I learned to recognize the harm my anger was causing and worked hard to rebuild trust and connection with my kids. Our relationships are so much stronger now, and I am grateful every day for the second chance I created by showing up differently. I’d love to walk alongside anyone else who wants to repair and strengthen their bond with their children.

Whether you're a parent or a student yourself, I can be there to support you. I've advocated for students' needs not only in my role as a special educator, but also in helping parents prep for IEP/ARD meetings, students self-advocate as minors and adults, and in my own child's life with a 504 plan. I didn't receive services myself growing up because my learning disability wasn't recognized, and I hate to see that happen to others. I know how to identify student needs and goals and communicate those needs to school staff.

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.

I graduated college during the pandemic, which means right when my life would've gotten started, the entire world was put on hold. I moved back home in March 2020, and I've been here ever since. At first, I was too emotionally immature to take the action steps toward an independent adult life, such as career planning, networking, applying to internships, etc. I had suffered a loss in 2019 and was diagnosed with depression in 2021, so it's safe to say my mind, body, and spirit was not a conducive environment for a breakthrough. Things got dark in the fall of that same year; I hit rock bottom and decided to get my life together. Cold turkey, I kicked the substances, started exercising regularly, and even went to therapy. While I'm still in my hometown and living with my parents, now, I pay rent, work multiple jobs, and save up for the bright future ahead. I let go of the victim story that the pandemic ruined my life and redefined adulthood in a way that works for me.

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.

I’m in my 20s, living at home while I work on my graduate degree online. It hasn’t always been easy—especially managing depression and anxiety in a household that sometimes lacks emotional understanding. I’ve struggled with feeling lonely, unappreciated, and misunderstood, particularly with family members who show narcissistic tendencies. I’ve also had to balance chronic health conditions and ADHD, which can make even basic tasks feel overwhelming. I used to be more socially active, but over time I’ve learned that low-maintenance friendships and solo travel once a year work best for my energy. I’ve stopped drinking for health reasons, which made me feel more in control but also a little left out at times. Journaling, music therapy, and meditation have become essential tools in my healing. Therapy and medication helped too, but so did learning to truly be on my own side. Living at home as a young adult with mental health struggles can feel like being stuck—but I’ve found ways to move forward, even from within the same walls. If that sounds like what you're going through, I’d love to talk.

When I left my first marriage, my children and I were all carrying invisible scars. The home we lived in had been filled with fear, silence, and confusion. I knew I wanted something different for them and for me. But I also knew that healing wasn’t going to happen on its own. So I created what we started calling our “family therapy room”, just a quiet space with pillows, blankets, and no judgment. It became the one place where we could all sit together, breathe, cry, talk, or just be. As a mom, I didn’t have all the answers, but I had the willingness to listen and show up emotionally. Over time, I learned how to speak to my kids in ways that made them feel heard, not pressured. I worked through my own pain in therapy, and shared pieces of that healing with them in ways that were age-appropriate. I learned how to apologize, how to validate their feelings, and how to co-create trust even after hard experiences. My goal wasn’t to be perfect. It was to be safe, real, and open. I believe we can break cycles by teaching our children how to feel and speak their truths. If you’re navigating life after family trauma and want to support your children emotionally, I’d love to share what worked for me and walk with you as you figure out what will work for your family.

When my older daughter was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, I felt like I had to be hyper-vigilant all the time. It is an invisible illness in many ways: it doesn’t show outwardly, but it is always there, shaping decisions, routines, and worries. At first, I hovered constantly, trying to protect her from every possible mistake or risk. Over time, I realized that my vigilance, while well-intentioned, wasn’t helping her grow into the confident young woman she was meant to be. I had to learn to step back, trust her judgment, and support her through the times she stumbled, rather than preventing every stumble. It wasn’t easy, and even now, there are moments of fear that creep back in. But the transition from helicopter parent to trusted support system has brought us much closer and given her the space to thrive. Along the way, I also volunteered at a children’s hospital, helping other families who were navigating the anxiety and complexity of serious childhood illnesses. I would love to offer the same support to others finding their way through this journey.