A little about me
Come sit at my table.
For as long as I can remember, people have trusted me with the things they found difficult to say aloud.
I have always noticed what sits beneath the surface—the hurt behind the smile, the words someone is holding back, and the moment when “I’m fine” doesn’t really mean fine.
For years, I thought being compassionate meant carrying every story home with me. Therapy, coaching, and a great deal of inner work taught me something that changed my life:
I can care deeply without carrying what does not belong to me.
That lesson is at the heart of how I coach today.
My journey
Finding my own voice
My parents lost a baby at birth one year before I was born. When I came along, my mother’s love was tangled with fear. She was very protective, struggled with her mental health, and expected perfection from me.
My faults were quickly pointed out, and even my successes could create tension. Other people rarely saw that side of our relationship, which made it difficult to explain why being around her affected me so deeply.
For a long time, I tried to become the daughter she needed me to be. The problem was, that person did not exist. I could never be perfect—and the harder I tried, the further I moved away from myself.
I know my mother loved me the best way she knew how. I no longer hold her pain against her. Understanding that her behavior came from wounds that existed before me helped me forgive her, but forgiveness did not mean pretending our relationship was healthy. Sometimes loving someone and loving yourself means creating distance.
Counseling and the book Codependent No More by Melody Beattie opened a door for me. I began recognizing how much of my life had been shaped by trying to keep the peace and earn approval. Through studying psychology, therapy, coaching, and life experience, I slowly began seeing myself differently.
Then I married a wonderful man who gave me space to discover who I was. He did not rescue me or do the work for me, but he saw something in me that I was still learning to see.
Experience became wisdom
What life taught me
I spent 30 years working in the medical field, where I witnessed life and death, sorrow and celebration, pain and healing. I saw families come together, fall apart, and navigate moments they never expected to face. Those experiences reminded me that there is almost always more happening inside someone than we can see from the outside.
Motherhood taught me even more.
I knew I did not want to repeat the patterns I grew up with, but I did not always know how to avoid them. I struggled with my self-esteem, reacted from pain at times, and made mistakes that affected the people I loved.
Through intensive therapy, coaching, and honest self-reflection, I learned to forgive myself while also taking responsibility. I apologized to both of my children for the times I did not know how to be the mother they needed. Those honest conversations allowed our relationships to grow deeper.
Today, I can admit when I am wrong without believing that being wrong makes me worthless. I can stand by what I know is right without needing everyone to agree with me. I can even allow silence to exist without rushing to fill it.
For someone who spent years managing other people’s emotions, that is a sign of tremendous healing.
Where it began
The kitchen table that started it all
After our family moved to Texas, our home became a gathering place for teenagers and young adults from our church. They would sit at my kitchen table and talk. Sometimes it felt like a revolving chair—one person would get up, and someone else would sit down.
I did not pretend to have a perfect life. I listened, asked questions, shared what I had learned, and gave them a place where they did not have to perform.
Many of those young women are now grown with beautiful families of their own. I am still in contact with them, and I am incredibly proud of the women they have become.
Looking back, I realize I have been coaching for more than 25 years. I simply did not call it coaching. I called it sitting at the kitchen table and having an honest conversation.
That is still the heart of what I do.
The heart of my work
Why I coach
I know what it feels like to have another person’s words slowly change how you see yourself. Repeated criticism can become an inner voice. Eventually, you may stop trusting yourself and no longer recognize the light that was always there.
I have been in that place more than once. But somewhere inside me, I still knew I was worthy. That knowing was quiet for a long time, but it never completely disappeared.
Now I help other women hear that voice within themselves.
I work with women who feel broken, but I also work with women who are capable and strong on the outside while quietly running on empty. Some are rebuilding after years of criticism or unhealthy relationships. Others are standing at a crossroads and know something needs to change, even if they cannot name it yet.
I believe many of the answers we seek are already inside us, buried beneath fear, expectations, conditioning, trauma, or the voices of people who told us who we were supposed to be.
My role is to help quiet the noise.
Sometimes a question leads a woman to say, “I never realized I felt that way.” Sometimes she finally speaks a truth she has been afraid to admit. Then I see it in her eyes—that first spark of recognition when she remembers her own worth.
That spark becomes hope. Hope becomes courage. And courage becomes change.
A question worth asking
Who is filling your cup?
Who is pouring back into you? Are you pouring back into yourself?
You cannot continually give from a place that has been drained dry. Caring for yourself is not selfish. Rest is not something you have to earn. You are allowed to need quiet, spend time alone, change your mind, establish a boundary, or say, “This no longer suits me.”
When your cup is being filled—when you understand your needs, recognize your strengths and weaknesses, and commit to your healing—you become stronger for yourself first. From that strength, you are better able to love your family, face confrontation, navigate loss, and move through life’s changes.
The strength you need is already within you. We work together to help you recognize it, trust it, and use it.
Come as you are
A safe place to be completely honest
When you sit with me, you do not have to clean up your story.
You are allowed to feel what you feel and say what you need to say. You do not have to worry about shocking me, disappointing me, or being judged.
I am not a perfectly healed person telling someone else how to live. I have made mistakes. I have reacted from old pain and hurt people who did not create it. Healing taught me that taking responsibility does not require shame.
We can be honest about the harm we have caused without deciding we are beyond forgiveness. We can learn to communicate instead of react, apologize, establish healthier boundaries, and choose differently.
That is strength, too.
Why I am here
This Is the Work I Was Meant to Do
I am not a perfectly healed person sitting across from someone who needs to be fixed.
I am a woman who has lived, stumbled, hurt, learned, apologized, forgiven, and kept growing. I know my strengths, and I am no longer ashamed of my weaknesses. I understand that healing is not a straight line and that becoming more aware of yourself is a lifelong process.
I also know that it is never too late.
You can find yourself at any age. You can learn to use your voice. You can say no without writing a five-page explanation. You can step away from what harms you. You can love people without abandoning yourself. You can lose relationships that depended on your silence and still find peace.
You can put your shoulders back, walk a little taller, and trust the person you are becoming.
My office is an extension of that kitchen table—a safe place to set down what you have been carrying, listen for your own voice, and begin filling your cup again.