This is a story I won't fully disclose due to its complexity. However, I will tell you just enough so that you may understand that I understand the feelings of betrayal, desperation, and panic as you watch your most important relationship detonate before your eyes. I loved this man with all my heart, all my being. And I would have done anything to have him feel the same intensity of love in return. Sure, we were engaged... until the day that should have been our wedding. On Valentine's day of 2018, I awoke to the text from my fiance saying that the wedding was called off. This was due to an incident that had happened between us the night before. I won't go into all the details here; this is a very long, complex story. The only other thing I'd like to say about this particular incident is that when I returned to our apartment that evening after he had told me that I needed to make arrangements to find another place to stay, I found him in our bedroom, throwing my clothes into a trash bag as a woman stood watching. That was a punch to my gut. Then, she spoke. (I'm legally blind, so I was able to see that the person standing beside my fiance was a woman, but I couldn't tell who she was.) But then she spoke. And I knew who she was. And it was another punch to the gut. On what should have been our wedding night, I had to load most of my belongings into a car, and shortly after, I had to be separated from my cat because she couldn't go where I was going. I understand. I understand how it feels to be punched in the gut so hard that you feel like you can't ever get back up. I understand feeling like you'd do anything, anything at all to change your circumstances. I know betrayal. I know confusion. I know abandonment. And if you're going through the same thing, I'd like to be there to walk alongside you through it.

Leaving or recovering from a toxic relationship can feel like you’ve lost yourself completely. I know the pain of questioning your worth, doubting your instincts, and carrying the weight of someone else’s manipulation. But I also know it’s possible to rise again. Through my own journey, I learned how to rebuild piece by piece while untangling my voice from theirs, releasing shame, and remembering my own strength. Healing isn’t about pretending it never happened; it’s about reclaiming your power and writing a new story. Now, I help others find that same clarity and courage so they can move forward with confidence, self-trust, and freedom.

My zany family of 4 has unique challenges that we navigate together with love, compassion and a lot of laughter. I have two daughter’s with their own learning challenges, and identity questions. My husband and I try to guide them from our different life perspectives. We are an inter faith, Inter racial, and mixed orientation couple. We feel that open communication as a family has been our greatest strength. As a family we have moved overseas and enjoy traveling together. If you need a person to help you navigate moving with your family, or strengthening your bonds through adversity, I would love to chat!

Whether you're new to dating, feeling stuck, or trying to rediscover yourself in the process, I’m here to listen and help you find your way. For most of my life, I didn’t really know what it meant to date in a healthy, intentional way. For a long time, I placed a lot of my self-worth in being chosen or loved back, especially after falling hard for a friend who didn’t feel the same. That experience shook my confidence, and I spent years trying to prove my value through relationships.—things that deeply affected how I viewed myself and interacted with others. I started dating in this day and age and with each one, I learned something new about what I really wanted, how to communicate my boundaries, and how to feel whole no matter the outcome. I realized I didn’t need to mold myself to be who someone else wanted; I could be me, fully, and still be loved. Now I support others who are learning to date from a place of curiosity, confidence, and self-respect.

Dating in your 40s or 50s can feel like stepping into a foreign country—especially if it’s been a while. The rules have changed, the apps are confusing, and you may wonder if it’s even worth trying again. I’ve been there. After years of marriage, I re-entered the dating world feeling unsure, vulnerable, and honestly, a little lost. But with time, reflection, and support, I learned how to show up confidently, spot red flags early, and stay true to what really matters to me. If you're trying to date again without losing yourself in the process, I can help you navigate it all with wisdom and heart.

I was married for 20 years, but for at least half of that time, my partner was having same-sex affairs. We tried counseling, fought for our family, but in the end, I had to face the truth of continued betrayal. After the divorce, I waited a year before dating again, thinking I had done the “healing work.” But when I finally joined the dating apps, I met someone quickly and married him just 11 months later after a mostly long-distance relationship. I told myself I was setting a good Christian example for my kids, even though I knew in my gut I shouldn’t say yes. That short-term marriage ended after experiencing emotional and sexual abuse. It took my counselor looking me in the eye and saying, “He’s not going to change” for me to walk away. The process left me emotionally and spiritually bruised—but it also taught me how to trust myself again, rebuild my confidence, and approach dating with more discernment and grace. What I learned from both marriages is this: healing isn’t linear, and dating while grieving is complicated. Now, I help women learn to trust themselves again, navigate dating with honesty, and avoid repeating the same patterns. You’re not too much, too late, or too broken. There is hope—and there is healing. If you’re trying to figure out how to date after divorce without repeating the same patterns, I’d love to help.

As someone who has been in a romantic partnership with a person who is incarcerated, I understsnd the unique set of challenges and emotions that come with this experience. The separation, the communication barriers, and the societal stigma can create an immense strain on both partners and the relationship itself. It's a difficult journey, but you don't have to figure it out all on your own. Together, we'll explore ways to communicate effectively, maintain emotional connection, and care for your mental well-being during these challenging times.

I used to find myself in relationships where I would constantly prioritize others’ needs over my own, always trying to make sure everyone around me was happy, even at the cost of my own well-being. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was caught in a cycle of codependency and people-pleasing. It wasn’t until I started recognizing the unhealthy patterns in my relationships that I began to see how much they were holding me back. This realization came slowly. I started working on myself, breaking free from toxic environments and relationships, and focusing on the life I wanted to build. I found that understanding my own attachment style and learning about healthy boundaries helped me stop falling into those old patterns. I became aware of what was destructive—both in my romantic and platonic relationships—and made healthier choices for myself and those around me. I’ve experienced these challenges firsthand and, through a lot of hard work and self-discovery, I’ve learned how to create and maintain stronger, healthier relationships. I’m now in a place where I don’t rely on unhealthy attachments or behaviors to define my relationships. I can see myself and others more clearly, and I want to help anyone who is struggling with the same issues.

I've spent the majority of my life figuring out how to move beyond the persistent hopelessness I've felt trying to navigate a world in flux. Whether it was figuring out an effective therapeutic protocol for my CPTSD, going through a breakup with my long-term partner, repositioning myself professionally, repairing family dynamics, or working through unhealthy coping mechanisms, I've had to find my way through the dark night of the soul time and again. It hasn't been easy, but I am continually finding ways to make it more meaningful. For me, the existential struggle isn't just personal. It's also social, ecological, and cosmological. Adopting this holistic lens gives me a sense of ease in an otherwise anxious body. I'm actively working on building healthy social relationships, reconnecting with the living world around me, and developing my capacity to be a more mindful being. Curiosity and creativity are my primary guides for navigating experiences, both pleasant and unpleasant.

Before finding my husband, I dated around in NYC for ten years. He was different from the guys I usually went for, but our conversations were seamless. After the first date I knew all the years of figuring it out had been worth it. I understand first hand how difficult dating to find love can be, especially in a city where there are so many options to choose from. Despite it all, I never gave up on finding my person and learned so much about myself along the way. Dating to find love requires an incredible amount of vulnerability and self reflection. In our modern age many people are giving up and resorting to AI companions, but what this does is further the loneliness epidemic and sabotage our emotional capacity. Love is finding someone to challenge you and help you grow, as you reciprocate the same to them. By holding tight to your own beliefs and only welcoming people(or bots) into your life that validate that, we are robbing ourselves of deeper connection and understanding.

A client once told me, “My picker is broken.” She kept dating the same man with a different name—and each time, it ended in heartache. The truth is, I understood exactly how she felt. I wasn’t dating the same guy over and over, but I wasn’t meeting anyone aligned with who I am and what I truly want. I realized I had to redefine what dating meant for me. I stopped dating to find a partner and started going on dates just to have conversations from a place of clarity, not confusion. After working with a dating and relationship coach, I got crystal clear on my values, needs, boundaries, and life purpose. I reconnected with who I am and from that place, dating became something I actually enjoy. Now I help other women do the same: get grounded, get honest, and stop settling. I believe dating doesn’t have to be a cycle of disappointment. It can be a tool for growth, clarity, and connection with others, and with yourself.

Once upon a time, I was in a relationship heading toward marriage. We signed up for a premarital class that started off great, until it didn’t. One day, he simply stopped coming. No warning. No communication. No explanation. I was left to finish the class alone. It was painful, but also eye-opening. That experience taught me two powerful lessons: first, that a partner’s consistency speaks louder than their promises, and second, that I didn’t have to dishonor myself by taking someone back who had already shown me they weren’t ready to walk with me. When he reappeared and asked to come back, I said no. And that “no” became a defining moment of self-respect. What I gained from that class and from walking away is the insight to help others discern red flags, ask the right questions, and make decisions that honor both their faith and their future. Because marriage prep isn’t just about planning a wedding. It’s about preparing for a covenant.

Few things cut as deeply as losing a romantic partner—the One. Heartbreak can feel catastrophic, like the ground has disappeared. I’ve lived through that unraveling: the end of a love I thought would last forever. For months I replayed conversations, questioned where it went wrong, and felt stuck in a loop that still lingers. Heartbreak isn’t just about the person—it’s about attachment, the way we wire safety and love into another. When it shatters, trust feels impossible. I isolated, doubted partnership, and clung to patterns that kept me stuck. Yet heartbreak is also a teacher. It’s forced me to slow down, examine my attachment style, and learn self-care and self-love. Our need for connection doesn’t vanish when we’re single—I’ve found it through friendship, creativity, community, and spirit, while staying open to love again. If you’re in heartbreak, know you don’t have to face it alone—we can process, make sense of emotions, and deepen your relationship with yourself.

Leaving an emotionally abusive relationship can feel disorienting. Like stepping out of a fog and realizing you don’t quite recognize your own reflection. I know the shame, self-doubt, and slow unraveling that can follow, even when you know you did the right thing. I also know how hard it can be to explain what you went through when there were no bruises, only invisible cuts to your self-worth. Whether you’ve just left, are still untangling yourself, or have been out for years but still feel haunted, I offer a space where you don’t have to justify or downplay what you lived through. We can talk about the aftermath: identity loss, loneliness, even lingering connection, honestly and gently, at your pace.

I didn't expect to spend so much time with myself in my 30s. Without a childhood bestie and/or long-term partner, the pandemic and associated remote work heightened the challenges of transient adult friendships and seeking a relationship offline. Bandage advice like joining Meetups may not work for the sensitive introvert. I'd love to help you navigate feelings of loneliness and share strategies for living contently and hopefully.

For the ones who feel like they’re walking on eggshells, carrying the weight of someone else’s struggles, and losing themselves in the process. Maybe your partner battles substance abuse, untreated mental health issues, or toxic behaviors that keep you questioning your worth. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself this is the only person who will ever want you, or you’ve stayed because leaving feels impossible—whether for emotional, financial, or safety reasons. Or maybe you’ve already left and the silence feels heavier than the chaos you walked away from. You miss what was good, doubt yourself for leaving, or wonder if you’ll ever feel whole enough for love again. If you’re stuck between fear, grief, and hope for something better, let’s talk. I’ve been in that kind of relationship too—staying longer than I should, leaving, and rebuilding. And I can remind you what I had to learn myself: walking away may feel harder, but it’s always the first step toward peace.

I was married to a narcissist for 28 years, and for a long time, I constantly questioned myself. Narcissists are skilled at making you feel like everything is your fault. I doubted my own reality and slowly lost my self-confidence. At first, he was incredibly charming, full of compliments and affection. It felt amazing. But once he had my trust, things changed. His needs always came first, he dismissed my boundaries, and he never truly apologized—only reversed the blame. It took me years to recognize these patterns and understand that what I was experiencing wasn’t love. Now, I help others see the red flags before they get pulled in too deep. If you’re confused about your relationship or feel like you're constantly second-guessing yourself, I’m here to help.

I moved to the United States from Serbia with my ex-husband, who was a scientist pursuing his education. We started our family here, but over time, it became clear that he wasn’t as involved as I was. Our communication issues began to grow, and as the years passed, I started to recognize signs of narcissism in him. The verbal and emotional abuse took a toll on my self-esteem, and things got worse when he had an affair. The affair was incredibly painful, especially since we lived in a small town where everyone knew. The stress was overwhelming, and although we tried to reconcile, a family psychologist advised me to leave him. Two years later, I met my current husband, a psychologist, who helped me realize that I was a survivor of a narcissistic relationship. Now, I’m passionate about helping others who are navigating similar struggles, offering a compassionate ear and the support that I wish I had during those difficult times.

As I navigate the balancing act of college life, parenting, and building meaningful relationships, I've discovered the power of slow living. After struggling academically in the past, I shifted my focus to being a stay-at-home mom for my kids, who do online school. However, I realized that continuing my education would not only keep my mind sharp but also enable me to better support my family. Now, pursuing a business degree has become a journey of self-discovery. Through this process, I've learned to embrace simplicity and minimalism, which helps me show up more fully for my loved ones. My supportive husband, who shares a different faith identity, has been instrumental in my growth. As I explore my own spiritual path, I've found that simplicity and mindfulness are essential in nurturing my relationships and personal growth. Parenting has taught me patience and vulnerability, while navigating college as an adult has been a profound journey of self-discovery. I'm eager to explore these

For most of my life, I didn’t know I was autistic. Growing up in the '80s and '90s, I was constantly told I was “too sensitive,” “too intense,” or “too much,” but no one ever explained why I felt so different. I became obsessed with understanding why people didn’t like me and spent years trying to fit into relationships that didn’t fit me. My mother was a narcissist, and without realizing it, I normalized emotional abuse early on. That made me a prime target for narcissistic partners. When I met my ex-husband, he seemed perfect, he mirrored everything I wanted. But after we married, he changed completely. He became emotionally abusive, dismissive, and cruel. As a neurodivergent woman, I internalized the blame. I was constantly masking, people-pleasing, and second-guessing myself. When he broke into my home and strangled me during our separation, I finally saw the truth: it wasn’t me. Since then, I’ve been reclaiming my voice and learning how to live unmasked. I now understand how my undiagnosed autism played a role in how deeply I was impacted—and how long I stayed. If you’re also neurodivergent and trying to make sense of a toxic relationship, I’d love to talk. You are not broken. You were just never given the right tools or support, and you can get there.