My Story
That's Where It All Started.
The most love I ever felt for me was when I could hug myself. That's not a small thing to admit. That's the whole story in one sentence.
I didn't grow up without. I grew up in a good home. But somewhere along the way I learned — quietly, without anyone saying it out loud — that who I was wasn't quite enough. And I spent years trying to outrun that feeling.
I've made a mess of things along the way. I've hurt people I loved. I've watched money disappear. I've sat in rooms where I was the reason things fell apart. But I'm still here. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I found something worth holding onto.
Family
Family is supposed to be the foundation. For me, it was the first place I learned what it felt like to fail the people who mattered most. Relationships fractured. Trust broken. Conversations that should have happened — didn't. Ones that did happen — shouldn't have.
I carried that weight for years. Told myself it was everyone else's fault. It wasn't. And the day I stopped running from that truth was the day things started to shift.
Finances
I've been broke. Not "tight month" broke. I mean staring at a zero balance, wondering how I got here, knowing I had no one to blame but myself. Bad decisions compounded by pride compounded by more bad decisions.
Financial rock bottom strips you of the story you've been telling yourself. There's nowhere to hide. And as brutal as that is — it's also the most honest place I've ever stood.
Failures
I've started things and quit. I've made promises I didn't keep. I've had opportunities and squandered them. I've been the person in the room who everyone expected to figure it out — and I didn't.
Every one of those moments felt like a verdict. Like proof that I wasn't enough. It took a long time to understand that failure isn't a verdict. It's a teacher. And I was a slow learner — but I was learning.
The Turn
There wasn't one dramatic moment. It was quieter than that. It was a choice — made in a room by myself — to stop performing and start being honest. Honest about what I'd done. Honest about what I wanted. Honest about what I was capable of if I stopped getting in my own way.
That honesty cost me things. But it gave me back something I hadn't had in years — myself.
“The scars don't disappear. But they stop running the show.”
— RR2
I'm not a finished product. I don't pretend to be. But I've done the work — the real, uncomfortable, unglamorous work — and I know what it takes to move from stuck to forward.
I became a life coach and mentor because I know what it's like to be in the middle of the hard chapter with no one in your corner who actually gets it. I want to be that person for you.
Not because I have all the answers. Because I've lived enough of the questions.
If any of this sounds familiar — the weight, the stuck feeling, the sense that you've been your own worst enemy — reach out. Let's talk.