Healing was part of my world before I had words for it. My mother was a healer - massage, acupuncture, energy work - and I grew up watching care happen in the space between two people: in attention, in touch, in what doesn't need to be said.

But this work didn't come to me by inheritance. I had to find it the hard way.

It started in my own body. Scoliosis gave my spine a will of its own before I understood what a spine was. Years later, a knee injury took the simple things - stability, dancing without worrying, running without thinking about every step. I know what it is to be at odds with the body you live in: to manage it rather than inhabit it.

The deeper struggle was quieter. There were years when I felt numb, disconnected, overwhelmed by emotions I couldn't name. What slowly brought me back was learning to stay, to feel deeply without rushing to fix. That process asked me to meet parts of myself I'd long avoided, and it taught me a kind of self-trust that isn't given, only earned.

Along the way, I became fascinated with the body. Not just its structure, but its instincts, its memory, its stubborn capacity to heal. I trained in fascia release, the Trager® Approach, Lomi Lomi, trigger point therapy, and trauma-informed somatic work. But no technique shaped me the way my own healing did.

That's what I bring to the table, literally.

A session with me is a conversation, carried through breath, sensation, and the quiet cues your nervous system offers when it feels safe. I don't work from a script. Your body leads; I follow.

People usually come to me for relief. They come back for something else: feeling at home in their own body again. Whether you're carrying chronic tension, emotional weight, or simply needing a place to be still, my work is to hold space for your body to remember what it already knows: how to heal.