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.

Ever had conversations that should have been simple—expressing feelings, setting boundaries, navigating friendships—but felt like puzzles with missing pieces? Yeah, always been that way with me. Sometimes I felt like too much, sometimes too little, and almost always like I was being misunderstood. I’ve spent years untangling that sense of disconnection—communicating in a way that feels true to me while still bridging the gap with others. Through my work in peer support, I’ve helped people recognize their own emotional language, whether it’s through words, actions, or quiet understanding. You don’t have to force yourself into someone else’s mold to be heard. If you’ve ever struggled to express your feelings or felt like you just don’t "fit" emotionally, I get it. Let’s explore how you naturally communicate and find ways to connect with the people who truly understand you.

When I moved to a new city, I thought it would be exciting—but pretty quickly, the isolation set in. I didn’t know anyone, and I found myself unsure of how to meet people outside of work. I struggled with feeling disconnected and sometimes questioned if I’d made the right decision. It took effort, intention, and vulnerability to put myself out there. I leaned into networking—both professionally and socially—and slowly began building genuine connections. Along the way, I learned how to boost my confidence, show up authentically, and trust the process of forming new relationships. Now, as a certified life coach, I help others do the same. Whether you're facing a big transition or just craving stronger relationships, I’m here to help you build the connections you need to thrive.

Because no one told you it would be this hard. You thought it would get easier but somehow, it feels harder. You want meaningful, mutual friendships. But between work, life, and trust issues, it’s complicated. Maybe you’ve moved cities, left a toxic community, or simply outgrown the people you used to feel close to. Now you’re wondering: How do I even start over? I get it. I've been there and felt everything you are feeling. I know what it’s like to crave connection but not want to settle for surface-level people or performative friendships. Let’s talk about what’s in the way and how to build the kind of connections your soul actually needs.

Female friendships can be soul-healing, laughter-filled, ride-or-die bonds. But let’s be real—they can also be intense, confusing, and sometimes heartbreaking. There’s a deep emotional language we speak with other women—one that’s shaped by closeness, comparison, loyalty, competition, and care. And when that bond cracks, it cuts deep. I’ve had female friendships that felt like home—and some that left me questioning my worth. I’ve been the friend who gave too much. I’ve been the one who pulled away. I’ve felt jealous, left out, deeply connected, and deeply hurt. No one taught me how to navigate all of that. We’re often told to “support each other,” but not how to deal with the unspoken expectations, silent treatments, or moments where it feels like love and envy are tangled together. Over time, I’ve learned how to unpack those dynamics—how to name what I feel, communicate better, forgive where I can, and honor when it’s time to walk away. Female friendships are layered and sacred. They deserve care and conversation, not just assumptions and silence. If you’ve ever felt confused by your friendships with women—too close, not close enough, triggered, adored, betrayed, or bonded in ways you can’t explain—you’re not alone. Let’s talk about it.

For the ones who packed up for a fresh start but didn’t realize how lonely it would feel. Moving to a new town or city means figuring out more than just your address—you’re rebuilding your circle, your support system, and your sense of belonging from scratch. Adult friendships don’t just fall into your lap, and the isolation can feel heavier than the boxes you unpacked. Do you feel like you want to connect but don’t know how to find your people? If you’re struggling with loneliness, unsure of what resources are available, or simply exhausted from trying to break into existing circles, let’s talk. Maybe you just need to share how isolating this new chapter feels, or maybe you want to brainstorm real ways to build friendships and find community that actually fit who you are. I’ve been through it too—relocating, working remotely, and realizing how tough it is to meet people when the usual paths to connection just aren’t there.

Living life as a strong, outspoken woman comes with its own set of challenges. Other women sometimes see me as competition instead of connection, and men have admitted I make them feel less than. For a long time, those reactions made me question myself, my femininity, and my place. But I’ve learned that being “alpha” isn’t a flaw — it just means I need to navigate relationships differently. I’ve found ways to claim my space, build trust with women, and still find the love, respect, and sisterhood I deserve.

When my kids shared that they are non-binary, I felt a mix of love, curiosity, and a deep responsibility to show up for them in the ways they truly needed. I hadn’t been raised with language or models for this kind of parenting, so I had to learn alongside them—often stumbling, but always committed. I realized early on that my job wasn’t to fix or mold them, but to make space for who they already were. That meant doing my own internal work—unpicking old beliefs and fears I didn’t want to pass on. I asked hard questions, challenged the parenting patterns I inherited, and tuned into what safety and celebration could look like for them, not just me. Over time, I found language and rituals that honored their identity and gave them room to evolve. Friends started coming to me for guidance—asking how to respond when their child experimented with pronouns or expressed gender differently. I’ve supported parents as they move from fear or confusion to love-in-action. It's not about having all the answers—it's about listening, learning, and showing your kid they are already enough. I’d be honored to walk with you through that journey.

Friendship has always been a complicated subject for me. I used to judge myself for not having a big group of high school friends, college friends, work friends—the kind of neat social circles I saw other people posting about. I’ve never really had a solid “friend group.” Instead, I’ve had a few meaningful one-on-one connections here and there. Deep, but scattered. Quality over quantity. In college, my best friend and roommate had a psychotic break and had to move back in with her family. That changed everything. I eventually became close with someone else, but just as we built a rhythm, she moved across the country, and our dynamic shifted. For a while, I felt like I was cursed when it came to friendships. Especially with how often people say it’s so hard to make friends as an adult, I really believed I was just stuck. But eventually, I got intentional. I started putting myself out there through online platforms, Bumble BFF, and even tried an app called Timeleft, where you meet strangers for dinner. I stayed open and slowly started meeting people I clicked with. Now, I have a handful of people I regularly meet up with for dinner, go on trips with, keep up with online, and have phone calls with. Connecting with friends really keeps me going. If you’ve ever felt lonely, left out, or confused by changing friendship dynamics, I get it. Especially if, like me, you value friendship even more than family. I’d love to help validate those feelings and offer practical tips for building the kind of connections that feel meaningful to you.

I spent my younger life wondering why it felt I was missing a key piece of myself and unable to fit in with people around me. Turned out, in my case, this was partly due to a void in my life of not having a father. For some people that doesn't seem to matter, but for me, it was a key piece of how I interacted with others. As I began to discover myself through therapy, I learned I could easily feel perspectives of other people's circumstances. You know the phrase "Put yourself in my shoes?" Well, I feel that I literally can. In fact, my friends were often discussing their problems with me. They said I listened well and asked questions that helped them see their situation from new angles. My own life experiences are varied enough now to offer a wide span of perspectives. From growing up without a father to marrying someone who didn't speak English to restarting my career several times, I'm a well-rounded, emotionally intelligent, active listening, empathetic soul. Communication is key.

Over a span of 30 years, I encountered cultural differences with 3 different partners. Each partnership faced both internal and external cultural bias, stigmas, and discrimination based on societal stereotypes. I went through cognitive therapy with my husband to learn how to communicate effectively with someone who not only learned English as a second language, but who was holding long-engrained beliefs about our respective countries and societies. We also worked on how to present a united front to outside disruptors, often family and friends bringing in their own bias that stirred the pot of misunderstandings and underlying the need to learn straight-forward communication. Even if your partner is unsure how to, or unwilling to, communicate their own feelings, you can still enhance your own communication style in an open, compassionate manner that exudes respect and honesty to yourself and to them.

It is not good for us to be alone. God made us to be in relationship, but relationships are hard. It takes work to maintain a relationship, but there are skills. You can learn to maintain a healthy relationship. I had to learn that the hard way with my bipolar at times I could be manipulative And irritable, causing me to stay and do things that wasn’t really me. I had to learn to respect boundaries and also to set my own boundaries when I begin to learn that my relationships began to get

I’ve been through a turbulent relationship and a public breakup that was widely discussed among my social circles. While it was a difficult experience, it taught me so much about myself and relationships. After the breakup, friends and family started turning to me for guidance through their own relationship struggles, and I realized I had a lot to offer in terms of support and advice. In addition to my relationship challenges, I grew up in a party circle that introduced me to alcohol and drugs at a young age. What began as occasional fun in high school quickly became an overwhelming part of my life in college, where the drinking and partying only intensified. I began to feel a deep sense of guilt and self-loathing, especially after a series of mistakes that made me realize how much my substance use was spiraling out of control. Determined to change, I quit cold turkey, with a great deal of support from my friends and family. The journey was tough but ultimately rewarding.

Losing my mom when I was 19 was an incredibly hard experience, and I’ll never forget the support I received from my friends. One friend in particular really helped me through that difficult time. She wrote me a heartfelt letter, offering encouragement and acknowledging my pain. That letter became one of the things I held onto as I navigated my grief. It showed me the power of simply being there for someone, in a tangible way, without trying to fix everything. Since then, I’ve tried to pay that kindness forward. I’ve supported friends going through grief, especially when they’ve lost a parent or someone close to them. Just knowing someone understands what you’re feeling can make all the difference, so I’ve tried to offer that same level of support and comfort. I always take the time to listen, acknowledge their pain, and send them thoughtful messages, like the letter I received. Grief is hard to navigate alone, and I want to be that person who helps others find their way.

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.

Parenting became even harder when I started struggling with anxiety and depression. Some days, I couldn’t even get out of bed, but I still had kids who needed me. I had to figure out how to show up, even when I felt like I was barely holding it together. Over time, I learned that it was okay not to be perfect. Taking care of my mental health became part of being a good parent. Through therapy, self-care, and support from friends, I found ways to balance my own needs with being there for my kids. It wasn’t easy, but I discovered that you can keep moving forward and still show up for your kids in meaningful ways. If you’re juggling mental health and parenting, I’m here to share how I learned to show up for both without losing myself.

After losing the love of my life, I realized this grief was different from previous losses. It felt like my life was a beautiful vase shattered into a hundred pieces. I tried to pick them up and put them back together, but I couldn’t do it alone. Some pieces were too far away, others didn’t fit, and I was frustrated and in despair. That’s when I accepted the love and help offered by those around me. Others could reach pieces I could not and helped me fit them back together. Together, we created a new vase—different but functional and ready to be used again. I learned not to be too proud to accept help because I wouldn’t have gotten up without it. Wisdom, I found, is simply knowledge gained through life’s hardest experiences. Prior to the death of my Wife, I had experienced the loss of my parents and other close family members. But they were no more than a punch in the gut. You fall down, sit for a bit, get up and go again. My Wifes loss was completely different. It was as if my life was a beautiful vase that had fallen to the floor and shattered into a hundred pieces. I had to sit down and try gathering the pieces and try putting them back together again. Needless to say, I could not seem to do it by myself. Some pieces were too far away. I could not figure out how to make other pieces fit together. i was frustrated and in despair but that is when i realized how much love and help i had around me and I accepted this gift. Some people could reach the pieces that i could not reach and brought them back to me. Others had the ability to fit pieces back together that i could not do. By drawing on our strengths together we were able to create a new vase which is functional and ready for use again. Do not ever be too proud to accept the help that good people want to shelter you with. I would have not been able to get off the floor again if it wasn't for the help and love given to me by others. Wisdom is nothing more than knowledge gained through life's experiences.

When one of my close friends went through a divorce, everything in her life seemed to be in flux. She was juggling the emotional strain of her husband entering rehab, solo parenting their three children, and trying to navigate the overwhelming feelings of loss and uncertainty. It was incredibly difficult to watch, but I knew that what she needed most was not solutions or advice, it was space to feel what she was feeling. I made the conscious choice to listen deeply, without interjecting my own thoughts or opinions. I focused on creating a space where she could express herself freely, knowing that she was supported simply by my presence. It was a delicate balance of offering emotional support without taking over, allowing her to process her journey at her own pace. This experience taught me that sometimes the most powerful way to help someone is to just be there—without judgment, without fixing, but with open arms and an open heart. Watching her grow stronger and more resilient has been a beautiful reminder that, when done right, offering support can be as simple as creating space for someone to just be.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve ruined your life and there’s no way back. For years, alcohol was my constant companion. Half a bottle of whiskey a day was normal, and I didn’t care about the consequences. Then one bad decision led to another: DUIs, legal trouble, and eventually, a criminal record. I didn’t just lose my freedom, I lost my sense of self. I ended up incarcerated for missing a court date, and that was my turning point. I realized that alcohol had controlled my life for so long that I couldn’t even remember who I was without it. The shame from my past actions felt suffocating. I tried to bury it, but it kept resurfacing. I relapsed after a long period of sobriety, and that’s when I found myself in a psych ward, facing my demons head-on. But that rock bottom became my foundation for rebuilding. Through AA, inpatient rehab, therapy, and a deep commitment to change, I started putting my life back together piece by piece. Sobriety didn’t just mean stopping drinking—it meant choosing a new path, facing my past, and slowly regaining trust in myself. Yes, I still carry the weight of my criminal record, but I’ve learned that my mistakes don’t define my future. If you feel like your past is a chain holding you back, I’ve been there. And I’m here to tell you: starting over is possible.