For most of my life, I was the woman who held it all together.
The good girl. The peacekeeper. The fixer. The one who made it all look okay, even when it wasn’t.

 

Then came the rupture.
In 2020, after 30 years of togetherness, my husband left me for someone else. It cracked everything open.

 

Not just my heart, but my whole identity. My worth. My voice.

 

But ultimately, that betrayal didn’t break me. It birthed me.
It called me into my own underworld.
And in the dark, I met the woman I was always meant to be.

 

The healer. The oracle. The dark goddess. The one who no longer performs softness to be loved, but embodies the full spectrum of feminine power.

 

You’re not broken. You’re becoming.

​

​

You didn’t end up here by accident.
You landed here because something deep in you—beneath the chaos, the numbness, the I’m-fine mask—has been whispering:

​

“There’s more for me than this.”

 

More than the life you built for everyone else.
More than the roles you’ve played, the rules you followed, the silence you swallowed.
More than holding it all together while quietly falling apart inside.

​

More than the 45-minute showers that are actually crying sessions.

More than sitting in the car at the end of the day for a just a few more minutes of peace.

​

 

You’ve done the “strong woman” thing.
You’ve kept the peace, played the part, made it look easy.

But secretly… you’re exhausted.
Not just tired-in-your-body, but Soul-tired.
 

Tired of settling. Shrinking. Shapeshifting to make other people comfortable.

 

Tired of pretending you don’t want more.

 

 

You don’t want another coach.

You want a mirror. A midwife. A wake-up call.

Someone who sees through the bullshit and doesn’t blink.
Someone who’s walked through fire and came back with keys.
Someone who won’t flinch when you crack open and say,

 

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

 

You don’t want fluff.
You want fire.
You want truth that feels like coming home.

 

And not the kind of “spiritual” that bypasses your pain with pretty words.
The kind that walks you through the shadows and says:

 

Your power was never lost. It was just buried.

 

 

I’m not here to fix you.

I’m here to walk with you.

 

My work isn’t about performance or perfection.
It’s about reclamation.

 

Together, we unravel the conditioning, the guilt, the self-betrayal.
We name the wounds, release the shame, and call your soul back into the room.

 

This is a space for women who are tired of being too much or not enough.
A space where your rage, your grief, your desire, your softness—all have a seat at the table.

 

It’s not about becoming someone new.
It’s about remembering who the hell you were before the world told you who to be.

 

This is soul work.

 

This is feminine reclamation.
This is sacred rebellion.

​

Who I Am Behind the Work

I’m not here because I figured it all out.
I’m here because I’ve lived it. And I’m still living it.
 

The heartbreak. The betrayal.

The identity crisis after the life I built burned to the ground.

 

The years of holding everything in for the sake of peace that never really existed.

The late-night hours I searched Pinterest, Google and You Tube trying to answer,

 

“How do I fix myself?”

​

The nights I stared at the ceiling thinking,

 

“Is this it? Is this all there is for me?”

 

 I’ve been the woman who thought she did everything “right” and still felt hollow.
The woman who stayed silent to keep the peace.

The woman who abandoned herself so she wouldn’t be abandoned.

​

And I’ve become the woman who is finally saying no more.

​

 

 

​​

 

 

 

This work found me when I stopped trying to fix myself

and started listening to the voice I had silenced for years.

 

Now, I walk other women through that same sacred unraveling – the descent, the remembrance, the rising.
 

I don’t come with a polished script.
I come with a torch.

​

​