THE UNRAVELLING

Finding Your Way Home

If you’ve ever felt stuck, overwhelmed, or quietly unraveling, you’re not alone. I’be been there too — holding everything together while slowly losing parts of myself I didn’t yet know how to reclaim. There were times my voice went quiet, when fear or guilt made it hard to speak my needs, and choosing myself felt out of reach.

This is the story of how I found my way back to who I truly am — and how you can begin finding your way home to yourself, with support, clarity, and a softer way forward.

ROOTED IN EXPERIENCE

Who I Am Today

For more than twenty years, my work has been rooted in transformation, supporting individuals through moments of change. Over time, I’ve come to understand how individuals respond when familiar ground shifts — how resilience is built and how meaningful change begins from the inside out.

But the most powerful lessons I've learned didn’t come from boardrooms or strategy sessions. They came from my own life.

After a devastating loss, I was brought face-to-face with the very principles of change I had spent years teaching — not as theory, but as lived experience. I began to notice how often I had put my own needs aside, quieted my voice or carried responsibility that wasn’t mine. That period reshaped me — personally, spiritually and professionally.

As my own healing deepened, my work began to shift. I found myself drawn to the emotional and intuitive layers of change — the stories we carry in our bodies, the patterns we repeat when we’re disconnected from ourselves, and the quiet knowing that surfaces when we finally pause long enough to hear it.

That path eventually led me to Reiki, where I discovered a way of supporting people that felt honest, grounded and deeply aligned with who I was becoming.

Today, I blend my experience in human transformation with a gentle energy-healing practice. My work creates space for people to reconnect with themselves and move forward with greater clarity, steadiness and care.

My Journey

Before We Begin

My path wasn’t something I planned. It began with a moment that cracked my life wide open — the kind that leaves you wondering how you’re supposed to keep going when your heart suddenly feels too heavy to hold.

Grief became a teacher I never asked for, drawing me inward and asking me to slow down, breathe differently and finally meet the parts of myself I had pushed aside for years.

What surprised me most was this: the healing didn’t erase the pain—it changed my relationship to it. Slowly, I learned to trust that even in uncertainty, something new could still take shape.

That’s the place my work comes from now.

I support people standing at their own crossroads — those who feel stretched, uncertain, or quietly lost inside relationships, responsibilities or expectations that no longer fit. You don’t have to walk through that alone. And you don’t have to rush your way out of it either.

There’s a softer way, steadier way forward — and we’ll find it together.

THE EARLY CHAPTERS THAT SHAPED ME

Where It Started

I moved around a lot as a kid. A childhood shaped by divorce, emotional instability and alcoholism taught me early how to adapt. I learned how to read a room, track shifting mood, and become steady when things around felt uncertain. I was a sensitive, intuitive child — deeply attuned to what was felt, even when it wasn’t said.

That awareness became a strength. It also taught me to soften my voice, quiet my needs and place others first in order to feel safe. The bond with my mother ran especially deep. We leaned on each other in ways that felt loving and natural at the time — close, connected, intertwined — with no one else between us.

Without realizing it, I learned that connection — and safety — came from being needed. That my presence mattered most when it smoothed rather than disrupted.

Those early patterns followed me into adulthood — long before I knew they were patterns at all.

THE MOMENT MY WORLD CRACKED OPEN

When Everything Changed

There are moments in life that quietly divide everything into before and after. For me, that moment came when my mother was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of cancer. Six months later, she was gone.

Not long before that, my father had suffered a catastrophic stroke — one that didn’t take his life but changed him completely, leaving him with dementia and in need of full-time care.

Loss didn’t arrive all at once. It came in waves.

Losing my mother didn’t just break my heart. It dismantled the version of myself that had been built around her. She had been my anchor and my witness — the person around whom so much of my identity had taken shape.

Without her, I wasn’t only grieving. I was facing a question I had never had to ask before:

Who was I without her?

I never imagined a life without her. There was no preparation for standing on my own.

What followed wasn’t just grief. It was the beginning of an unravelling — one that would eventually lead me back to myself.

HOW I BEGAN TO HEAL

The Unravelling

After my mother passed, life didn’t fall apart dramatically. I did — quietly, deeply and completely.

For the first time, there was no one to tend to. I was left alone with a version of myself I barely recognized — a self that had lived inside someone else’s story, her own edges softened.

This was the beginning of learning how to be with myself in the silence — a quiet I had never known before. I began writing — not to make sense of things, but to stay with them.

The unravelling wasn’t graceful. It was raw. It was honest. It was necessary. Grief didn’t disappear with time; instead, I learned how to make room for it — allowing sorrow to exist alongside moments of meaning, connection and joy.

As that relationship deepened, I began listening inward again. What once helped me survive slowly became a compass — guiding me back to myself.

This is where my work now comes from. I support others through life’s turning points using a blend of Reiki, intuitive guidance and integrative support — creating space for regulation, clarity and reconnection.

THE MOMENT MY WORLD CRACKED OPEN

When Everything Changed

By the time my mother became ill, I was already stretched in ways I didn’t yet understand. My father had suffered a catastrophic stroke not long before — a sudden, life-altering loss that changed him, even though he was still here — and my nervous system was carrying more than I knew how to name.

When my mother was diagnosed, something in me shifted instantly.

And I did what I had always done.

I stepped into fixer mode — steady, capable, composed. I held space for her fear, her hope, her body, her grief. Our bond, already deep, tightened further. Caring for her was instinctual — not out of obligation, but out of love.

In that closeness, I didn’t notice how quickly I was disappearing.

My identity — shaped by years of attunement and emotional merging — wrapped itself around her even more completely. There were no edges left. No separation. Just devotion, presence, and the quiet belief that holding everything together was love.

And then she died.

Losing my mother didn’t just break my heart. It shattered the version of myself that had been built around her. I wasn’t only grieving her — I was grieving the self I didn’t yet know how to be without her.

It was the most devastating moment of my life. And without realizing it, it marked the beginning of everything changing.

HOW I BEGAN TO HEAL

The Unravelling

After my mother passed, life didn’t fall apart dramatically. I did — quietly, deeply, and completely.

For the first time, there was no one to tend to. No one to stabilize. No one to hold together. I was left alone with a version of myself I barely recognized — a self that had lived inside someone else’s story for so long her own edges had softened.

The unraveling wasn’t graceful. It was raw. It was honest. It was necessary. Not in the way people promise when they say “time heals.” Grief didn’t soften with time — I softened with awareness.

As the noise quieted, I began hearing my intuition again — the same inner knowing that had lived in me since childhood. What once helped me survive slowly became a compass.

Energetic healing helped me return to myself. Reiki became a way for me to release decades of stored emotion and reconnect with the intuition that had always been guiding me — even when I couldn’t hear it.

As this work deepened, my approach evolved naturally. Today, I support clients using a blend of Reiki, intuitive healing, and sound — an approach that helps the body calm, the mind soften, and long-held emotions finally move. These practices didn’t fix me; they created the space for me to listen inward, feel what I had been holding, and slowly return to my own life.

I LEARNED TO LIVE WITH GRIEF

Reclaiming Myself

I didn’t heal from grief.  I learned how to live with it — without losing myself inside it. And in that process, I began reclaiming parts of myself I had long abandoned.

I learned:

to release what was never mine to carry
to choose myself without guilt
to listen inward instead of outward
to trust the wisdom in my body and intuition
to set boundaries without fear of losing love
to grow around grief instead of trying to outrun it

I’m still learning. Still becoming. Still choosing myself in ways I once didn’t know were allowed.

And that’s the heart of my work now — to walk beside those who feel unraveled, overwhelmed, or unsure of who they are beneath everything they’ve been carrying.

My role isn’t to push change or provide answers. It’s to help you feel grounded enough to listen to what your body already knows — and supported as you find your way forward.

FOR YOUR JOURNEY

You’re Allowed to Begin Again

Your story doesn’t have to look like mine for healing to be possible. There is strength in every step you’ve taken — even the ones that felt impossible at the time. You are allowed to take up space in your own life again — without apology.

If you’re here, it’s not by accident. Something within you already knows — a quiet readiness for softness, for clarity, for truth, for change. You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need to be “ready” in the way you think you should be.

Just trust the part of you that led you here.

SUPPORT YOUR OWN HEALING

Your Next Step

Reiki became one of the most powerful supports in my own healing — not because it erased what I’d been through, but because it helped my body release what it had been holding for years.

The heaviness. The tension. The emotions I carried quietly.

Today, I offer that same grounded, compassionate support to others — people who feel overwhelmed, grieving, burned out, or disconnected from themselves.

My role isn’t to fix or push change, but to help you feel safe enough to listen to what your body already knows.

If something within you feels ready to shift, I’d be honoured to support you.

Sometimes, it simply begins with a conversation.

Work with Me