When I’m not in the therapy room, you’ll likely find me in the middle of the beautiful chaos of life with my amazing husband and our two sons. My days are a mix of fitness, kitchen experiments (I'm a huge foodie), church, and probably a DIY project that’s halfway finished. Whether I’m exploring a new hidden gem, lifting in the gym, or hosting a crowded dinner for family and friends, I’m someone who loves to live life out loud.
But I also know that living fully requires a lot of behind-the-scenes healing. I often think of the lemel process in jewelry making—where the tiny, dusty shavings of gold or silver that fall to the floor during the 'work' are never thrown away. They are gathered, refined, and made into something new.
My own journey—navigating the wild ride of motherhood, the grit of athletics, and the weight of injury, loss, and broken seasons—has been my own 'lemel.' I’ve learned that healing isn't a 'last-resort' safety net for when life feels impossible; it’s the process of gathering those scattered, painful pieces of our experience and realizing they still hold incredible value. Because I’ve sat and continue to sit in the quiet corners of my own refinement, I consider it a profound honor to sit in yours with compassion, presence, and a whole lot of hope. Let’s find that space for you, too.
Athletics shape more than performance—they shape identity, purpose, discipline, and how you learn to relate to yourself and others. As a former college basketball player and colliegate assistant coach, I understand firsthand the pressure to perform, the constant evaluation, and the unspoken expectation to push through at all costs. Over time, these demands can leave parts of you feeling lost—mentally, emotionally, spiritually, or relationally.
My work with athletes is grounded in a person first, player second philosophy. In this space, you are not reduced to your stats, position, or role on a team. I hold space for the human behind the jersey, helping you reconnect with who you are beyond performance and productivity. Together, we work to address the challenges that interfere with joy, fulfillment, and presence—both in sport and in life.
I also support athletes navigating transitions, including injury, burnout, loss of identity, and retirement from sport. While athletics develop resilience, leadership, and discipline, “athlete brain” doesn’t always translate seamlessly into life beyond competition. Counseling offers a place to integrate what you’ve gained through your sport while gently refining the parts of you that feel stuck, fractured, or uncertain.
Whether you are currently competing or stepping into a new season, therapy can be a space where fragmented experiences are met with care and refined into clarity, strength, and wholeness—allowing you to move from performance-driven survival toward fullness in who you are.
The transition into motherhood is profound—filled with beauty, joy, grief, exhaustion, and responsibility all at once. Becoming a mother reshapes identity, relationships, the body, faith, and the way you move through the world. There are gains and there are losses, and often they exist side by side in ways that feel confusing or isolating.
Having navigated pregnancy, birth, and early motherhood during the uncertainty of the pandemic, I understand the unique layers of trauma, responsibility, and isolation that marked that season for so many parents. For many, that time disrupted expectations of support, safety, and connection, leaving experiences that were never fully processed. Those unspoken pieces can linger long after the crisis has passed.
In my counseling work, I create space to honor the full reality of motherhood—the hard and the wonderful, the gratitude and the grief, the strength and the vulnerability. This is a space where identity shifts can be explored, losses can be named, and adjustments can be made with compassion rather than pressure. You do not have to minimize your pain because you love your child, and you do not have to hide your joy because motherhood feels heavy at times.
Here, your experiences are met with care, and what feels fractured can be gently tended to and refined into understanding, steadiness, and wholeness. There is room for all of it in my counseling office.