From the time I was little, I felt a pull inside me that I didn’t have words for yet — I knew I was meant to help others, I just didn’t know how that would unfold. But like many people drawn to healing work, my path into this work came from walking through my own darkness.

As a young girl, I experienced years of bullying that left deep imprints: humiliation, fear, loneliness, and a persistent sense that something was wrong with me. I froze rather than fought back, and for a long time, I mistook that freeze for weakness. I carried shame and learned to hide my pain so well that even the people closest to me didn’t know how much I was hurting.

It took me well into adulthood — and especially my counsellor training — to unravel those layers. I learned that my silence as a child wasn’t a flaw; it was sensitivity. Slowly, I began forgiving myself, replacing self-blame with compassion, and reclaiming the parts of me I abandoned to survive.

Then came another chapter of profound transformation: after the birth of our daughter, I went through five pregnancy losses. Grief took me into places so dark I didn’t know if I would ever emerge. There were days it felt like being tossed around under a giant surf wave — disoriented, breathless, unsure which way was up. But over time, I learned how to keep a piece of myself above water. I learned to allow others in and how to ask for help. And eventually, I came to a place of deep peace and gratitude for the family I have — my husband Brett, our daughter Aspyn, and our golden retriever Takaya.