I understand the deep, complex pain of relationships that feel like they're breaking or have already broken. I know what it's like to feel 'stuck,' going back and forth on an impossible decision about a long-term, difficult partnership. I also know the profound, isolating grief of a painful family estrangement. It's a loneliness and confusion that's hard to describe. I created this space because I'm in it. I've had to learn how to set the hardest boundaries, cope with the uncertainty, and begin to find a way to bounce back and build a new life for myself. This is a safe space to process it all, without judgment."

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.

A little over a year ago, I lost my younger brother to substance abuse. Four months later, I lost the love of my life to cancer. My world shattered. It felt like I’d fallen into a deep black hole with no way out. Everything changed, I couldn’t manage daily life without leaning on friends and family, and I had to give myself permission to simply grieve and do nothing for a while. Slowly, day by day, I began to heal. I started putting one foot in front of the other. Through my grief, I discovered lessons from both of them about living fully and authentically. Today, I carry those lessons with me. Living with a deeper sense of gratitude and appreciation for life, love, and the people who walk beside us through it all.

My journey includes surviving intimate partner violence and navigating challenges that affected my family and well-being. After making the difficult decision to voluntarily terminate my parental rights to protect my child, I now share my story. Talk with me about the realities of domestic violence, the importance of family preservation when possible, and the gaps in support for parents trying to keep their children safe.

Most people don’t understand how deep the loss of a sibling cuts. I do. I lost my favorite sibling, my big brother. My favorite person! It's not just the death of a brother or sister, it’s the loss of shared history, identity, inside jokes, and the future you imagined with them in it. Whether the relationship was close, complicated, or both, I know what it’s like to carry that grief while the world keeps moving. I want you to feel grounded by the reminder that your grief doesn’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline. Also, it's okay to sit in discomfort, to not have the words, and to simply miss them. If you’re grieving the loss of a sibling and feel unseen or unsupported in your pain, let’s talk. You don’t have to grieve alone.

I have experienced many situations that left me living in what I call "crisis mode," including growing up with an abusive parent, losing a parent suddenly as a teenager, marrying a man who became violent and abusive, and later caring for him through seven years of illness until he passed away. I have faced fertility challenges and, after eight years of trying, was finally successful with IVF and had twins, including seven months on bedrest. Tragically, one of my twins became seriously ill at 16 and battled numerous health issues until she passed away at 24 after a year in the ICU. Throughout all of this, I have navigated my own health challenges and am now disabled.

I just assumed I'd be a parent. It was as automatic and natural an assumption as the sun would rise and set. When I married, my husband had the same assumption: we'd be parents. But it didn't happen. At first, we didn't try -- but we didn't NOT try either. Then, as time went on, we were more...deliberate. It still didn't happen. It happened for friends and other family. But not us. We watched as others went through their childrearing joys and challenges, with only one another to hold onto. We decided not to get medical fertility intervention, but fully understand the pull towards it. We wanted a kid. We did not get one. Though my husband and I have built a life in which we are happy (most of the time) and fulfilled (as much as we can be), there's always the grief for the child that never was. The answers you give others when they ask if you have children. The comments you overhear. The pang you get. The worry about aging alone. I'm here to see you in and through it. Let's talk.

After losing both of my parents to COVID during the height of the pandemic, I fell into the darkest period of my life. Though they were in their 90s, the experience of losing them so close together, and under such isolating conditions, shook me deeply. I withdrew from nearly everything. I was overwhelmed by anxiety, sadness, and an unfamiliar sense of aimlessness that lingered far longer than I expected. Even when I was physically present, I felt emotionally unreachable, like I was watching life from behind a thick glass wall. That chapter changed me. It forced me to slow down, reflect, and ultimately reimagine what a meaningful life looks like. When I started to emerge from that fog, I knew I needed to live with more intention. I retired from my long career in marketing and began focusing on service and connection. I founded a nonprofit that teaches digital art to inner-city youth, and I now work with Social Venture Partners in Chicago to support grassroots organizations creating real change. This journey through grief and depression reshaped how I show up in the world. I know what it’s like to lose your footing and how powerful it can be to find it again. If you’re feeling disconnected or lost in the wake of mental health challenges, I’d be honored to walk with you as you find your way back.

I was a daily drinker for 18 years and now I have 18 years of continuous sobriety! My journey hasn’t been smooth sailing. I’ve faced addiction, mental health challenges, co-parenting struggles, and the heartbreak of losing loved ones. Through it all, I leaned into therapy and a strong support network to come out stronger. I'm now a Certified Medi-Cal Peer Support Specialist, and helping others find their footing is something I care deeply about. Whether you're navigating sobriety, parenting kids with complex needs, or just trying to keep your head above water, I’m here to listen, relate, and support however I can.

My addiction started at the age of 14 with a prescription for opioid pain medication. Over the years, my addiction continued to progress and by age 16, I was addicted to opiates and illicit stimulants. I've had stints of sobriety since then, but continued to relapse and did not truly find recovery until the age of 30, after I lost my partner of 8 years to the disease of addiction. A lot has changed since then and I have found that finding oneself is the key to finding true healing and recovery.

I lost my husband to a fentanyl overdose on July 27th, 2024. I thought my life was over, but I was able to find myself again and find new purpose in life. Talk to me about your grief & loss! 🤍

As a widowed father of four and grandfather to eleven, I’ve experienced the full spectrum of family life—raising children, watching them grow into parents themselves, and finding ways to stay connected through the inevitable changes life throws at you. After a 42-year marriage, losing my spouse was a profound loss. It taught me the importance of rediscovering who I am as an individual and redefining my role. I understand that parenting today is different from how it was when I was raising my kids. With the pressures of one income not being enough and evolving societal norms, families are facing new challenges. I’ve spent years supporting my children through their own parenting issues and offering a compassionate, nonjudgmental space to navigate these shifts. I’m here to offer a listening ear, to explore possible solutions, and to help you redefine your role in both family and life. Sometimes, all it takes is a thoughtful question or perspective to shift how we view things.

As a widowed father of four and grandfather to eleven, I’ve experienced the full spectrum of family life—raising children, watching them grow into parents themselves, and finding ways to stay connected through the inevitable changes life throws at you. After a 42-year marriage, losing my spouse was a profound loss. It taught me the importance of rediscovering who I am as an individual and redefining my role. I understand that parenting today is different from how it was when I was raising my kids. With the pressures of one income not being enough and evolving societal norms, families are facing new challenges. I’ve spent years supporting my children through their own parenting issues and offering a compassionate, nonjudgmental space to navigate these shifts. I’m here to offer a listening ear, to explore possible solutions, and to help you redefine your role in both family and life. Sometimes, all it takes is a thoughtful question or perspective to shift how we view things.

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.

It was just my mom and me—she was my person. When she was diagnosed with rare cancer in 2016, we thought we’d beaten it. In 2018, she told me it had come back, but not how bad. She protected me even from the truth, right up until she couldn’t anymore. A week before she died, I took her to the hospital. I was still hoping she’d recover. Instead, a doctor told me, coldly, that the cancer had spread everywhere and they couldn’t save her. She was gone two days later. I planned the funeral alone, signed the paperwork alone, and somehow made it through those first weeks on autopilot. Then it hit—again and again. You don’t just grieve the person, you grieve the life you had with them. If you’ve lost your parent and had to hold everything together while breaking apart, I see you. I’ve lived it. The grief will still be there, but maybe I can help it feel less like it’s dragging you under & more like something you can carry, one moment at a time. Above all, you aren’t alone. I’m here to talk with you through the kind of grief that doesn’t have a neat beginning or end.

I was my dad's caregiver for 7 years. He had multiple health conditions and double bypass surgery. I juggled work life balance, and also my own health. I lost my dad earlier this year and It's a very hard thing to go through. I lost my mom to cancer in 2016, and also helped care for her. We all grieve in our own ways, I am here to listen and talk you through that grief and immense sorrow.

I walk alongside those navigating the many layers of grief. Losing someone or something dear changes everything—it shifts how we see ourselves, others, and the world around us. Through my own lived experience, I know grief is not something to "get over." It’s something we learn to carry, honor, and move with at our own pace. Some days it’s heavy, some days it’s quiet, and all of it is valid. In our time together, I offer: A compassionate ear from someone who gets it. Gentle reminders that your grief is unique and worthy of space Support in finding hope, meaning, and resilience while honoring your loss If you’re feeling alone in your grief, know that you don’t have to walk through it by yourself. I’m here to hold space for your story, your pain, and your healing. 💫 ---

Parenting a child with special needs changes everything. Your pace, your priorities, and often your sense of self. I know the exhaustion that comes with endless appointments, meltdowns, sleepless nights, and feeling like no one truly understands. I have walked that path, learning how to show up for my children while still trying to hold on to myself. Over time I realized that being a good parent does not mean being perfect. It means being present, adaptive, and kind to yourself too. Now I help other parents find their rhythm again. Balancing advocacy with rest, guilt with grace, and chaos with connection. Together we explore ways to support both your child’s growth and your own well-being.

By the time I was 31, both of my parents had passed away. My dad died of cancer when I was 21 and my mom died in her sleep one night in early September 2009. I had just gotten engaged and we'd just chatted on the phone a couple of nights before and she was gone. I found myself navigating adulthood without parents and I felt untethered and unmoored. Facing a future, even facing getting married and starting a whole new chapter of my life without my mom by my side was terrifying and grief-filled. Adulthood without my mom has been different than the adulthood I envisioned. I was a very late in life baby for my dad, so there weren't as many expectations that he'd still be here as I moved towards middle age (he'd be 103 to my 47!), but I had always pictured my mom nearby as I navigated life, career, marriage, and parenting. The grief of the first years she was gone was immense and loudly present. As I age, the grief is still there, but it changes it weight and shape as I change, too. I'd be happy to talk through parent-loss and all the ripple effects it has on our lives if you're looking for someone who understands.

Between 1998 and 2009 12 members of my family died, including my parents and all my grandparents. I have developed a profound relationship with grief and loss, and I am often someone others turn to when they need help processing a loss. I navigated all of these deaths in my 20s because I had to, and along the way I learned a lot about grace, grief, and everything else that goes into making a life without the people you expected to be in it. I have made a life out of grief and the understanding that facing our grief can help us feel both connected and free. It can be hard to find people who want to talk about grief with you, but if you are looking for someone to do just that, I'd be honored to connect with you.