Because I get it. After facing a life-threatening health scare, rebuilding my life, healing relationships, overcoming anxiety, and making powerful changes in my health and habits, I’ve learned what it takes to create lasting transformation from the inside out. Now I help others do the same — with compassion, clarity, and zero judgment.

Everyone said certain health challenges that started in graduate school would go away once I left the stressful environment. But they were here to stay. While peers spend their vacation leave and money on trips, I spend my sick leave and funds on doctor's appointments and interventions - all while managing conditions and treatments discreetly for co-occurring conditions. If you struggle with sleep, pain, anxiety, or GI issues - as well as as "gymtimidation," or having to choose sneakers over cute heels - I'm here for you.

One morning in my early 20s, I woke up unable to unclench my fist. That moment cascaded into years of misdiagnoses, difficult medication trials, and the accumulation of medical trauma while I tried to navigate healthcare systems and get to the bottom of what was happening to me. I could no longer balance my life, I had to learn to accept how my life was changing. During this time, I felt isolated from my friends as I could no longer keep up with them. I had to grieve the life I used to have while learning to navigate a new one, all while managing painful symptoms and life obligations. What helped the most was hearing the stories of those who had experienced similar issues with chronic illness , as well as reframing my experiences with the help of a therapist. I began to be able to feel validated, accept help, and release some of my pent up anger in healthier ways. I'd like to offer my support as a person who can understand your experiences navigating life with chronic illness.

Living with fibromyalgia means waking up every day in a body that doesn’t always feel like it’s on your side. It’s pain that moves and lingers, exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix, and a constant fight to be believed in a world that doesn’t understand invisible illness. Some days, even the smallest tasks feel monumental. Other days, I grieve the life I thought I’d have before chronic illness changed everything. For me, fibromyalgia is deeply intertwined with trauma, stress, and nervous system dysregulation. My body has carried years of survival, and now it speaks through widespread pain, fatigue, and sensory overwhelm. I’ve spent years learning how to listen to it instead of fight it. That hasn’t been easy. There’s been guilt, frustration, isolation, and fear—but also resilience, self-compassion, and an ongoing process of redefining what strength looks like. I know what it’s like to feel dismissed by doctors, misunderstood by friends, and judged by a culture that values productivity over rest. I know how hard it is to advocate for yourself when you’re already so tired. And I know how powerful it can be to talk to someone who gets it—not because they read about it, but because they live it too.

The doctor told me I had to lose weight. I was upset and mad. I had felt overweight my whole life. I also have Scoliosis. Very little self-esteem as the overweight, hunched over, short girl. I let me self esteem issues get to me. Before I could even realize it, I was now embarrassed, angry, jealous, hopeless about how I saw myself. Parents sent me to a nutritionist at 15. That led to diet pills that didn't work that left me more emotional. In my early 30's when my knees hurt so bad, a doctor challenged my to lose weight. I told him I couldn't, he said prove me wrong. 86 lbs later, I was smaller. I was "skinny". I liked the way I looked. I was able to wear clothes I liked. I liked the new me, but nobody else did. My husband said I wasn't myself. My friends didn't want to be around me. I had become obsessed with exercise and health. I lost the weight the correct way: diet and exercise. I walked 2 times a day (no running or jogging) and ate great. And it worked since I did not have underlying health issues. However, no number was enough. I needed the scale to be less every day. I lost a lot of weight, love, friends, and myself. I had to learn how to live healthy again. I had to learn to love me for me and not a number on a scale of on my pants. I looked better than I had ever looked (to me), but was not attractive because mental health was not in a good place. Self-acceptance is beautiful and comes in all forms, sizes. Loving yourself is healthy.

As a father of two daughters, one of whom has autism, I’ve learned that supporting my daughter requires more than just advocacy—it requires a healthy, balanced approach to my own well-being. When I first began navigating my daughter’s autism diagnosis, the stress was overwhelming. My work as a corporate lawyer, combined with parenting responsibilities, left me exhausted and burnt out. Functional medicine became a game-changer for me, helping me improve my energy, mental clarity, and overall health. I found that by focusing on my own health, I could show up as a stronger, more focused advocate for my daughter. I’d love to share how functional medicine can help other parents manage their health so they can be the best possible support for their children.

It hit my like a ton of bricks. When my doctor said the words "you have breast cancer", it was like someone hit the mute button. I heard nothing after. As a healthy woman, under 40, with no family history of breast cancer I never imagined this would be my reality. I was diagnosed just before Christmas 2023. The next few months were a whirlwind of navigating doctors, scans, surgeries, health insurance, but the heaviest to hold was other people's emotions. As a recovering people pleaser and perfectionist, I would lay awake at night thinking about the "right way to do this" instead of the best way for me. This was all while I was navigating being a new business owner, having just launched my consulting practice exactly one year before. Luckily, I had the support of my partner, my family, my close friends and a growing community of extended friends who were quick to send a meal, a loving card, and messages checking in. I am now cancer-free and ready to be a part of your support community.

I used marijuana almost daily for over a decade, mostly to cope with chronic pain from my disability. It started when I was 20, and for a while, it felt like the only thing that helped me function—but it slowly became something I couldn’t imagine living without. The turning point came when my lungs started bleeding, and I needed surgery to address the source of the pain. That experience forced me to face the bigger picture: the weed wasn’t helping anymore—it was hurting me. Getting sober wasn’t just about quitting; it was about learning how to live without the thing I thought was saving me. The first few months were brutal. My body hurt, my mind was foggy, and emotionally, I was raw. But I leaned on my support system, therapy, and my sheer stubbornness. Now, over a year into sobriety, I’ve learned how to manage pain and emotions without turning to weed. Recovery has helped me reconnect with joy, presence, and self-respect. I know how overwhelming it can feel to even imagine a sober life, especially with physical limitations, but I’ve been there—and I’d love to be here for you as you take your next steps.

In college, I gained the freshman 15 and never really stopped. For years it was skipping meals, grabbing on the go unhealthy options, and late night snacking. I was building my career and then had 2 small children to raise. My health was suffering in many ways including poor eating and sleeping habits. When I decided I needed to feel better and stop living on coffee, fast food, and 11pm bowls of cereal, I threw my self into learning everything and I tried it all. Low Fat, Low Carb, Intermittent Fasting, Cardio, Weight Lifting, Meal Prep, Supplements, even Lap Band Surgery. All of it was temporary and felt like a battle of wills. Then came the diagnosis ... diabetes. Then my dad's diabetes got out of control and he was on dialysis. Then he died from complications of the disease. I promised my kids I would never let them sit next to me and keep me company for 4 hours while I was hooked up to a machine cleaning my blood because my kidneys couldn't anymore. Today I only focus on one number and it isn't the scale ... it's my blood sugar.

When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I became her primary caregiver for eight years. At the same time, I was raising my son, managing chronic pain from a car accident, and trying to hold onto pieces of my own life. I quickly learned that caregiving isn’t just a role: it’s a transformation. You become the memory-keeper, the nurse, the advocate, and often, the emotional sponge. Every day brought new challenges: the guilt of feeling overwhelmed, the heartbreak of watching her slip away, and the stress of coordinating everything from medication to safety-proofing her home. I once spent hours trying to calm her after she forgot who I was. Those moments haunted me, but also fueled my determination to show up with love. After she passed, I shifted into caring for my dad, who faced physical disabilities and psychiatric struggles. By then, I had developed a rhythm, one that protected my own mental health while still being there fully for him. I don’t sugarcoat caregiving, but I do know how to help you feel more steady, less alone, and better prepared for each step on this unpredictable path.