I grew up in a family with two parents who didn’t want religion for themselves but wanted it for my younger brother and me. Every Sunday, they dropped us off at a big evangelical church for the Sunday School program and picked us up again an hour-and-a-half later. At Sunday School, I heard Bible stories about a God who so-loved the world and also turned Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt. A God who holds us in the palm of his hand and also would spit us out of his mouth for being lukewarm. A God who leads us beside still waters and also destroyed the world in a flood. I can’t say for sure that the headaches and OCD started because of that, but I’m fairly certain they did.

The summer, I was ten, Billy Graham was preaching on my grandmother’s television set. Without being born again, he said, we were hell-bound, but with a simple prayer, we would be spared. Billy Graham called it “The Good News”, but it sounded like terrible news to me. I looked around the living room to see if anyone else found his words appalling, but my grandmother and my uncle were both nodding in agreement. On the TV screen, I watched as droves of people got up out of their seats to go forward to receive salvation (years later, I would learn that many of those people were hired by the marketing team). In that moment, I made a decision: I must be the one who’s wrong. I said the prayer, repeating silently after Billy, and thus began my life as a church-going, “on-fire”, “plugged-in” Christian. By my mid-20s, I was a worship leader, youth pastor, and internationally recognized recording artist. But somewhere along the way, I realized my faith was built on fear and shame. I was numb to the ways religion was harming me—and others. When my faith finally crumbled at age 26, my world cracked open, and the healing process began.

My healing path has been about tending to the little me who didn’t run screaming from my grandmother’s living room that day, but instead, succumbed to self-abandonment. A life-altering depression and the birth of my first daughter opened the door to deeper self-awareness. Over time, I recognized that the harms of my religious experiences were still imprinted in my body. Diagnosed with c-PTSD, I struggled with chronic fatigue and experienced the collapse of my marriage. Healing began when I embraced practices like yoga (despite my upbringing’s warnings against it!) and learned to listen to the wisdom of my body. Slowly, I began to soften around the constriction I felt, befriend the terrible feelings, and trust myself again. These practices allowed my trauma to thaw and opened a path to reclaiming my life.  

My own journey inspires me to hold space for others navigating similar tender terrain. I use somatic embodiment techniques to help clients reconnect with their inner knowing, address past wounds, and build inner resilience. I also incorporate expressive writing, guided meditation, and simple rituals into my work when it aligns with the client’s needs. I am passionate about helping clients reconnect with their innate wisdom and move toward lives filled with meaning, authenticity, and joy. It is an honor to walk alongside others on their healing journeys.