🧠 Sensitive Kid, Neurospicy Adult

I grew up in suburban New Jersey—playing competitive sports, eating too much fast food (back before we knew better), and staying out until the streetlights came on.

Even back then, I felt like I was on the outside looking in. Like I’d missed the unspoken memo on how to be a person. Social dynamics were confusing, overwhelming, and often disorienting. I now know that I’m a bit neurodivergent—sensitive, empathic, and easily thrown off by environments that lack authenticity or emotional safety.

From a young age, I could feel everything. The moods, the tension, the undercurrents in a room. But I didn’t know what was mine and what wasn’t. I had no tools, no context, and no language for what I was experiencing. I just knew that people-ing felt like an Olympic sport—and I was playing without a rulebook.

That sensitivity, once a source of confusion, has become one of my greatest assets. Today, I use it as a compass, a mirror, and a guide in how I show up for myself and for others.

🔥 Initiation

That early confusion eventually turned inward—and over time, it hardened into self-doubt, shame, and social anxiety. I spent years trying to fit in, tone myself down, and make the world make sense. Nothing seemed to click.

Then I found drugs and alcohol.

At first, they were a godsend. They quieted the noise. Softened the edges. Made people-ing a little easier. For a while, it worked. Until it didn’t. What started as relief slowly morphed into chaos. The escape became a trap.

After six years in active addiction, I finally hit a bottom in 2005 that cracked me wide open. It was brutal. And it was sacred. Because that’s where my recovery journey began—a long, humbling, transformative path that I’ve been walking ever since.

I now understand that my active addiction—and all the pain that came with it—was a necessary initiation into healing, awakening, and remembering who I really was.

🌱 Recovery & Healing

When I hit bottom in 2005, I didn’t know what was coming next. I just knew I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing. That breakdown marked the beginning of something new—something raw, humbling, and deeply transformative.

The early years of recovery were about survival. Staying sober and not using no matter what. Showing up. Learning how to be in a body, in a life, without escaping into drugs, alcohol, or gambling. Slowly, things started to change. I began to see the patterns underneath the substances—the grief, the generational family dynamics, the nervous system overwhelm, the relational wounds.

Over time, recovery became less about substances and more about self. I was transitioning from chronic self-abandonment to an increasing sense of self-acceptance. I walked many paths: twelve-step programs, counseling, yoga, meditation, sweat lodges, plant medicine ceremonies. I sat in silence, fell apart, came back together, and learned to meet myself with something closer to love.

I used to think recovery was about fixing what was broken. Now I see it as a lifelong practice of remembering who I am—and learning to live in a way that honors who I really am.

💬 From Counselor to Guide

As I found stability in my recovery, I felt a pull to be of service. I went back to school, earned a BA in Psychology and an MA in Clinical Mental Health Counseling, and began working on the front lines of the addiction epidemic.

For over a decade, I worked in residential and outpatient settings as a licensed drug and alcohol counselor, supervisor, group facilitator, and program director. I sat with people in the rawest moments of their lives. I listened. I learned. I witnessed the complexity of trauma, the resilience of the human spirit, and the many faces of healing.

That chapter shaped me deeply. But it also taught me something else: that healing isn’t always clinical. That some things can’t be diagnosed or treated in conventional ways. That what many of us long for is presence, reflection, connection—something human and true.

In 2020, I made the decision to let go of my license—not because I was stepping away from the work, but because I was ready to do it differently. Today, I guide people in a way that’s intuitive, relational, and rooted in presence. I meet people not as problems to solve, but as wise beings in the process of remembering who they are.

🌍 Nomad, Wanderer, Seeker

By the time I stepped away from my clinical role in 2020, the call to live differently had already been growing for years. It started back in 2012, on a trip to India that cracked something open in me. After that, the idea of staying in one place—geographically or spiritually—just didn’t make sense anymore.

Since then, I’ve lived in eleven countries across four continents. I travel slow, stay long, and let places shape me. I walk neighborhoods, absorb the essence of places, learn the rhythms, and spend time with locals. I’m not chasing landmarks—I’m embracing something quieter. Something older. Something timeless.

I’m especially drawn to high-energy places—those that feel alive in some ancient, ethereal way. Teotihuacan in Mexico and Arunachala in Tiruvannamalai, India are two of my favorite places on the planet. These sacred sites challenge me, soften me, open me. They remind me who I am beyond the noise.

These years of wandering have stretched me in some really beautiful ways. They’ve grounded me in a kind of global presence that continues to inform how I work and how I live. My worldview—and the way I guide others—is inseparable from the places, people, and lineages that have welcomed me in.

I don’t consider myself a tourist. I’d say I’m more of a seeker. And everywhere I go, it feels like I meet a little more of myself.

📚 Lifelong Learner, Systems Thinker

Long before I started guiding others, I was trying to understand everything—myself, the world, the why beneath the what. That curiosity never left. If anything, it’s only grown deeper.

I love learning. I love zooming all the way in—getting into the texture and nuance of a moment, a behavior, a belief. And I love zooming all the way out—seeing the big picture, the patterns, the systems at play. I'm fascinated by how things connect, how they move, how they evolve. That systems-level lens has shaped how I live, how I guide, and how I make sense of this whole human experience.

Whether I’m in a classroom (I’ve taught college on and off for a decade), a circle, or a deep 1:1 conversation, I’m lit up by new perspectives and meaningful inquiry. I don’t pretend to have all the answers—but I love asking the kinds of questions that open something up.

For me, this love of learning isn’t just academic either. It’s embodied. It’s devotional. It’s a way of living that honors life as the teacher it has always been.

🌗 Different Things to Different People

For a long time, I struggled to define myself—and to explain what it is that I do. I wanted a clean answer. A title. A label that made sense to others. But the truth is, the way I work and learn with folks doesn’t fit neatly into boxes.

What I’ve come to understand over time is that I don’t show up the same way with everyone—and that’s exactly how it’s meant to be.

For some, I’m a guide or teacher.
For others, I’m a wise friend or soul mirror.
Sometimes I’m simply an example of a life lived differently. A reminder of what’s possible. A nudge. A spark. A presence.

The truth is, everyone comes to this remembering business from their own angle, so our reference points will be slightly different. We’re all waking up from our own version of what’s going on—or what we think is going on. For some, the journey begins in a more familiar, counseling-like way—talking about feelings, relationships, and patterns. For others, it might begin on a yoga mat or a meditation cushion. Some experience it as deeply spiritual—rooted in energy, presence, and awakening. Others find it practical and embodied—grounded in the body, the breath, the nervous system. Sometimes it starts simply as trying to find your way through a messy life transition or a painful chapter.

And honestly, I think that’s part of my gift.
I can meet people where they are, step into their world, and walk with them in a way that aligns with their soul’s journey.