I have known what it feels like when it seems as though the whole world is turning its back on you. At a young age, I found my mother collapsed in her room. She was taken to the hospital, but she never came back. After that, several stepmothers passed through my life. Those years were filled with pain, confusion, loneliness, and despair. At a young age, I experienced anxiety, depression, panic attacks, and various neuroplastic symptoms. I felt as if my breath would stop, as if my chest would tear open, as if—even with my mouth wide open—oxygen still couldn’t reach my lungs. Looking back now, it was an incredibly difficult time. 

These early experiences do not define me, but they have shaped the way I listen, attune, and remain present with others. They have given me a lived appreciation for how suffering can feel invisible, confusing, and lonely—and how healing often unfolds slowly, through relationship, compassion, and patience.

As a psychotherapist, I bring both professional training and human understanding into the therapy room. My hope is to offer a space where you feel met with respect, curiosity, and care. If our work together can help ease even a small part of your burden, it would be a genuine privilege.