Arriving Here: In All My Messiness

This work has shown me that life is never clean, never neat. And as much as I wish there were a perfect, linear path to healing, there is a deep knowing that it’s never that simple. We’re all figuring it out, one step at a time, sometimes stumbling, sometimes gliding, sometimes just hanging on with whatever strength we have left. And that’s where I show up—in the mess.

This isn’t about me standing on some distant pedestal, handing down wisdom from a place of “I’ve got it all figured out.” I don’t. I’m in this with you. I’m human, too. I’ve walked through my own valleys of doubt, loss, and longing. I’ve faced the same deep, aching questions you have—“Do I belong here?” “Am I worthy of connection?” “Is there a place for me?” And yet, somehow, I’m still here. And so are you.

I’ve faced my own tough moments, the kind that felt like too much to carry. Growing up without a father left me with a quiet, lingering question: Where do I belong? That absence created a sense of disorientation, a feeling of being untethered. Even when people tried to step in and fill that role, life had a way of taking them too. Two stepfathers came and went, and with each loss, I was left wondering, Who am I, really? The question of where I fit in, where I truly belonged, stayed with me for a long time.

I see this struggle reflected in so many of your stories. The questions you bring to me aren’t just your questions—they are my questions, too. The longing for connection, the desire to feel safe, the yearning to understand yourself—these are the things that bind us. I see you. I hear you. And most importantly, I understand you.

Love and Relationships: A Constant Unlearning

I’ve also had my share of failed relationships, the kind grounded in not knowing myself, not understanding my own worth. I spent so much time looking for validation from others, from partners, from the world, but I never found it until I looked inward. It’s messy work, the kind where you shed old skin, revisit old wounds, and sometimes, just sit with the discomfort of not having all the answers. But I’ll tell you this: it’s worth it.

It took me years to understand that relationships aren’t just about connection with others—they’re about the connection with myself. I can only show up fully for someone else when I’ve learned to show up for myself. And even then, it’s not perfect. It takes patience, constant curiosity, and the willingness to keep leaning into discomfort.

That’s the thing about relationships, whether with partners, children, or ourselves—they’re dynamic. And they require our nervous systems to trust. Trust that it’s okay to lean in. To show up, imperfectly, with all the messy bits.

Parenting and the Struggle with Strength

Parenting has been another place where I’ve had to reckon with my own limits and vulnerabilities. Raising deep-feeling children, with the health scares and the uncertainties along the way, has called on parts of me I didn’t know existed. In those quiet moments of doubt, when I find myself questioning, “Am I strong enough? Am I doing enough?” I remember that it’s okay not to have it all together. There is no "perfect" way to parent. It’s a dance of learning and unlearning, a process of showing up and being present with the challenges, no matter how big or small.

There have been times when my health has wavered, and I’ve questioned whether I could keep going. But this is what I want you to hear—our vulnerability is not a sign of weakness. It’s the opposite. It’s the place where we can find our power, our strength. In our work, we find that healing doesn’t always come from fixing or doing things right. It comes from being seen, from being heard, from just being together in this space. Even when things feel difficult, even when the ground feels unsteady.

How I Show Up in This Work

In my therapy room, there is no such thing as a perfect process, and there is no “one-size-fits-all.” I don’t come at this work from a place of being an expert, because I’m not. I’m someone who’s walked the path, someone who’s gotten lost and found my way again. Someone who’s felt broken and learned/is learning to heal.

Together, we’ll explore the layers of your story, and I’ll be there, holding space for you to do the deep work—whether it’s learning to trust your body again, finding the courage to show up in relationships, or simply figuring out who you are when the world is too loud. We won’t rush through it. I’ll sit with you in the discomfort, the uncertainty, and the mess. Because that’s where the transformation happens.

I use many tools in our work—tools that help us understand what your nervous system is telling you, what your body has learned to hold, and what parts of you are asking for attention. There is power in noticing, in sitting with what is. Sometimes it’s as simple as slowing down, breathing deeply, and letting your system know it’s okay to rest. Sometimes it’s about revisiting old stories, untangling what doesn’t serve you anymore, and rewriting them, together. There is no timeline, no rush. This is your journey, not a race.

Why This Work Is for You

This isn’t a quick-fix space. This is for you if you’re ready to be with yourself in the mess, to confront what’s uncomfortable, and to find healing in the truth of your experience.

As we walk this path together, you might start to feel a sense of power returning—power that may have felt lost or buried beneath years of stories and survival. In the quiet moments, when we allow ourselves to be truly seen, we might discover strengths we never realized we had. It’s in this space of openness and connection that we can begin to reconnect with parts of ourselves that have been waiting to be recognized.

So if you’re ready to explore, to lean in, and to start feeling that power again—no matter how messy, no matter how unsteady—it would be an honour to walk beside you. Let’s make space for it, together.