For a period of my life, I experienced homelessness, and it reshaped the way I view resilience, self-worth, and stability. I know the exhaustion of not having a safe place to rest and the emotional weight of trying to survive while still holding onto hope. Over time, I learned to build strength in small steps—finding safe spaces, accessing resources, and creating a vision for something better. Now, I share that experience to help others who may feel overlooked or defeated. I understand how important it is to feel heard without judgment, and I know firsthand that progress doesn’t happen overnight—it comes from patience, persistence, and having someone who believes in you along the way. My goal is to be that steady support, reminding others that homelessness does not define their worth, and that it is possible to rebuild a life with dignity and peace.

I’ve been through a lot in my life—substance use, legal troubles, and homelessness—before experiencing a full recovery and spiritual awakening. My journey taught me the value of self-reflection, the importance of healthy relationships, and the power of faith. After years of working in addiction treatment, I’ve learned how crucial it is to understand attachment styles, healthy communication, and self-love. For years, I struggled in toxic relationships, but in my early 30s, I began learning about codependency and attachment styles, which has transformed the way I relate to others. My close relationship with God has been central to my healing, and I believe that the love I receive from Him forms the foundation for building healthy, fulfilling relationships. I truly believe that healing and growth are possible for everyone, no matter their past. I’m here to share my experiences, tools, and encouragement to help others walk their own path to recovery and healthy relationships.

I have spent years helping my husband run his business, and when he follows my advice, he does well. He grows and succeeds. I am a homesteading mom of 3 with my own business while helping my husband run his.

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.

There was a time when I had no home — no safe place to sleep, no privacy, and no idea how I was going to survive another day. Homelessness stripped me of everything I thought defined me. It left me exposed, judged, and emotionally wrecked. What most people don’t understand is that homelessness isn’t just about losing a roof over your head — it’s about the crushing weight of invisibility, the constant danger, the trauma of not knowing where you belong. For me, it came after years of abuse, addiction, and heartbreak. And it was one of the most humbling, terrifying seasons of my life. But it was also the beginning of a rebuilding I never thought possible. I clawed my way back — through recovery, healing, faith, and sheer grit. I rebuilt my life brick by brick, not just externally, but internally. Today, I carry the strength of someone who’s been at the bottom and made her way home — to herself. If you’re in that place now — or trying to heal from what you survived — I want to talk with you. I see you. I believe in your ability to rise.

I stayed too long. Not just in one relationship, but in a few. I told myself things would get better, that I could fix it, that I was the problem. After a 17-year marriage ended in infidelity, I felt completely lost and unlovable. I drank to cope, remarried, and kept drinking. Then came a narcissist who used, lied, manipulated, and eventually tried to kill me. By the time I realized I had to leave, I was trauma bonded, emotionally exhausted, and terrified. But I did leave. I found a domestic violence shelter, got sober in rehab, and slowly began piecing myself back together. I know how hard it is to leave, especially when your sense of self is tangled up in trying to make it work. But I also know this: you don’t have to wait until you’ve lost everything to walk away. If you’re wondering whether it’s time to go, let’s talk. I’ve been there.

I think I’ve had mental health challenges since grade school, but I was not diagnosed with depression till high school and then in my 30s. I was diagnosed with bipolar. I felt stigmatized and alone. At first, I hid my diagnosis, not wanting anyone to know even lying on job applications so no one was find out, but I eventually accepted my mental health diagnosis and work towards finding the right medication combination and coping skills to have the life that I now have now I can help you accept your diagnosis and move forward.

I’m a Veteran and a father who spent years living with active addiction, lost everything, and found my way back through recovery. For two decades, I struggled with alcohol and substance use—trying to hold my family together while my own life felt increasingly out of control. Eventually, I lost my marriage, my children, and my home. I ended up a homeless Veteran, unsure how to move forward. The turning point came when a man from the VA connected me with Mental Health Services and helped me understand that I had a Substance Use Disorder. That diagnosis—and the acceptance that came with it—gave me the foundation to heal. Through the VA, therapy, 12-step programs, and peer support, I’ve spent the last 15+ years rebuilding my life. Today, I work to help others find the same hope, clarity, and strength to move forward. Whether you’re just starting your recovery journey or feeling stuck somewhere along the way, I'm here to walk alongside you.

I stayed longer than I should have in an abusive relationship because my sense of stability was completely tied to him - at first. I had four children, but none of them his, thankfully! I didn't have family support. I kept telling myself that it couldn't possibly be as bad as I thought, and if we just had one more good day, maybe it would stick. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t love. I knew better! I'd watched my mom endure a 15-years-long abusive marriage; I wasn't her... The turning point came when I asked myself who I loved more—him, or my kids. I wanted better for them. I didn’t want them growing up thinking abuse was normal. So I left. I moved us to a completely new city where I didn’t know anyone. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But little by little, I rebuilt. I got honest about my pain. I know the violence of that last night left an indelible mark on my children's psyche, so I leaned on therapy, my faith, and the fire I still had inside. Now, I help others who are stuck in that same fear—because I know firsthand that starting over is scary, but staying in harm’s way is scarier.

I spent summers with my grandparents in Puerto Rico, but left much of the island unexplored. When my retired parents took me on structured tours abroad, I was the youngest. Our road trips didn’t offer much freedom. I was just along for the ride. My daughter’s dad's parents took us on many Disney Vacation Club stays. I love the parks, but I wanted to see more. When I planned it was more of a solo mission—stressful logistics leading to less fun for all. I loved our trip from Florida to California and back in 16 days—sleeping in our Chrysler Pacifica minivan River. We ordered a Storyteller Overland camper van for more adventures, but Serenity became my rolling home when munchkin’s dad asked for a divorce and space. When my best friend moved in, I found my adventure companion. We planned together and made some of my best memories ever. Now, I'm renting a sticks and bricks because munchkin doesn't want to stay in Serenity with me. So Serenity sits until I can set off on more adventures.

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.

My journey has been anything but easy. I’ve faced many challenges, including substance use struggles, primarily with heroin, and have been diagnosed with autism, depression, and anxiety. My life was marked by homelessness, incarceration, and trauma, including sexual abuse by my stepbrother and an abusive father. My mother struggled with her own mental health challenges, and I grew up in a cult that shaped much of my early experiences. Recovery has been a long road, and I know firsthand that it comes in different forms for everyone. I’m here to offer my support and understanding. I’ve been through a lot—surviving suicide attempts, mental health challenges, and navigating my identity as a queer trans Indigenous man—and I’ve found hope again. I believe in the power of sharing stories and connecting with others on a real, raw, and honest level. I’m not a therapist, but I’m someone who can relate, listen, and guide you through the process of finding your authentic self.

Becoming a single mom wasn’t something I planned, and nothing really prepares you for the weight of it—especially when you’re also fighting for custody. For four years, I was in and out of court, constantly trying to keep it together for my daughter while dealing with the stress and uncertainty of not knowing what would happen next. At the same time, I had just moved to a new city where I didn’t know anyone, and everything felt unfamiliar. I had to rebuild my life from the ground up, without a support system close by. It was hard, really hard. I leaned on therapy, phone calls with family, and my faith to get through it. Some days I was just surviving. But over time, things shifted. I was granted full custody, and my daughter and I started counseling together. I slowly started making connections and building community in my new city. I’ve learned how to be both soft and strong, how to listen to myself and to my child, and how to ask for help without shame.

After college, I moved to Chicago with my best friend to start fresh. It was an exciting new chapter, but also a daunting one. I didn’t have a built-in support system and had to rebuild my community from scratch—new job, new friends, new everything. It wasn’t easy, especially since my friendships from college weren’t as supportive as I had hoped. I learned the hard way that creating a strong social circle takes intention and effort, but it was worth it. Fast forward to becoming a mom in 2024, and once again, I was faced with the challenge of rebuilding my community, but this time, as a parent. I had to find other moms to connect with, navigate the challenges of new parenthood, and still maintain my friendships. Through these transitions, I realized that it’s not about having a large number of relationships, but having quality connections that support you through life’s changes. If you’re feeling lost or overwhelmed in your own transition, whether it’s moving to a new city or becoming a new parent, I’d love to share my journey and help guide you through the process of finding your people and building the support system you deserve.

There was a time in my life when I didn’t have a stable place to call home. I know what it’s like to feel the weight of responsibility as a parent while facing housing insecurity, financial stress, and impossible choices. At one point, I opened my own home to two other single moms, one of whom had been living in her car with her toddler. We were all working the same job, trying to save money and build something better for our kids. It wasn’t always easy. We had our disagreements, but we’d sit down, cry it out, and remind each other we were a team. For a while, we created a little village under one roof, and I’ll never forget how powerful that felt. Before that, I had to make sacrifices, including being away from my kids for days at a time so I could work and keep going. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress. I’ve learned how to survive with limited resources, how to rebuild when others doubted me, and how to stay grounded in my purpose through it all. If you’re in a tough spot or starting over, I’d love to talk with you about what’s possible—and remind you that you’re not alone.