My Story

The hardest parts of my story shaped the heart of my work. My early experiences made me curious about why we suffer, how we heal, and what it takes to feel at home in ourselves again (or for the first time). 

​

I grew up as the oldest and only daughter in a Jehovah’s Witness household. Even though there was plenty of eggshell-walking, there was no Easter. No birthdays. No holidays. What I missed in celebration, I carried in responsibility. I took on roles in my family that no child should have to take on. Security was a myth, and my self-esteem lived right in between “Armageddon is coming” and “make sure your knees aren't showing.”

​​

I spent years being a survival-based chameleon in a world where authenticity was clocked with shame. When I finally left, I realized that what I was told was 'the truth' was actually a system built on (and designed to perpetuate) fear and control. In exchange for my loyalty (and the near-total suppression of who I was), I was left with an identity so fractured that freedom felt perilous. 

​

To be honest, leaving the only world I knew (cult) was not how I wanted to spend 22. Exhausting, and I wish that on no one. They don't tell you how brutal undoing brainwashing is, but wow, it gave me the gift of reclaiming nearly every aspect of myself. 

​

They say people are like tea bags... You don’t know how strong you are until you’re in hot water. As someone whose life once felt like a rolling boil, I know what it takes to rebuild. Gathering the pieces, being present with your pain, and evolving into something new in the aftermath became my bread and butter. 

​

So if you’re carrying your own mix of “big T” and “little t” traumas, let’s have some tea, and sit with it.