Years ago, life knocked me sideways in a way I never saw coming. Surrounded by care—medical staff, family, friends—I began a journey back to myself that changed everything I thought I knew.

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It was excruating at times. What I'd believed was solid ground shifted beneath me, leaving me angry, confused, and searching for answers my old understanding couldn't provide. My heart needed something different. I found it in contemplation, in meditation, in teachers who helped me see that what had shattered could also be tended, piece by quiet piece.

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My body needed its own kind of mending. Over many years, I received support from countless approaches—some traditional, some less so. What I learned is that healing isn't one thing. It's rest when your nervous system has forgotten how to settle. It's unwinding what's been held too tight for too long. It's finding your way back to balance, to sanity, to joy.

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Craniosacral therapy in particular changed everything for me—it gave my sped-up, traumatized system permission to finally slow down and access the deep rest I couldn't find on my own. That's when things began to shift. Alongside it came other supports: practices that brought me back into my body, into sound and movement, into water and community. All of it mattered.

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Eventually, I trained in the work that had helped me heal, knowing it would continue supporting my own journey while allowing me to walk alongside others in theirs. Now I offer what I've learned—not as someone who has all the answers, but as someone who knows what it's like to need to find your way back.

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This work isn't about fixing. It's about creating space where your body remembers it can soften, where your heart can speak, where you can reconnect with the resilience and joy that's already yours.

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You don't have to have it all figured out. You just need to be willing to begin.