For most of my life, I was very good at being who everyone needed me to be.
My parents divorced when I was four, and I learned early how to read a room and keep things steady for the adults in it. Running became my escape, and then my proof that I was worth something. I started at seven, raced triathlons by twelve, ran D1 in college, and competed for the USA in two world championships, all while graduating magna cum laude. From the outside, it looked like confidence. On the inside, I was still chasing an approval that never quite landed. It was never really about the medals.
I married, and had the house, the kid, the dog. It all looked right. Then it broke, and my divorce felt like the very cycle I had promised myself I would never repeat. So I did what I knew how to do. I climbed. The corporate ladder this time. Same drive, new arena.
Then my body started saying what I had refused to hear. One health crisis became several, and something finally clicked: this wasn’t bad luck. Something deeper was off. I asked the Universe to show me what I couldn’t see. It did, and it humbled me fast. Old ancestral wounds were rising. The same patterns kept finding me, no matter how hard I worked. I threw myself into spiritual practice, ceremony, embodiment, and I went full speed ahead not knowing integration was the missing piece that would change my life forever.
My first ceremony felt like coming home, like I could finally be me. For the first time in my life, I felt safe. I could feel the self-love that had always been there, the self-love I had neglected to embody. It just clicked. My soul, my body and my mind connected in a way that changed the trajectory of my life.
Then a car accident stopped me cold. After it came another long hospital stay, the doctors running routine bloodwork to test for sepsis. And it left me with the only question that mattered: what is my soul actually here to do?
Answering it took me inward, first through the breath. I learned to listen, and to sit with what had been trying to come through for years. I went deep into ancient practices and the earth’s allies: plants and herbs, flower essences of all kinds, and stone medicine. This time, I let each insight settle and become part of me before reaching for the next. I turned toward my shadow, the parts of me I had hidden to stay approved of, and toward my ancestral lines, where the old wounds rising in me had begun. Through ten days of silent Vipassana, I sat with all of it, and went deeper than I had ever let myself go.
Somewhere in there, things began to shift. I found my way back to joy, to play, to stillness. I stopped performing. I stopped needing approval to know I was enough, and the people-pleasing loosened its grip. I found my voice. And ever so slowly, I came into my sovereignty, steady in my strength whatever the room and whoever was in it.
I had spent my whole life earning my place. I had to learn how to rest in who I already was.
What I didn’t have, at first, was a guide who could hold all of it with me. I didn’t have the tools for real integration, or even know what that truly meant. I didn’t have someone who understood the mystical, the messy, and the practical at once, and who would walk beside me privately, from the first opening to the life that came after. Later, as divine timing would have it, I was met by beautiful, wise souls: mentors, medicine women, and healers of many modalities. Each gave me something I still carry.
Maybe you know some of this too. Being the strong one. The capable one. Doing everything “right,” and still feeling the old patterns pull you back the moment life gets loud.
So imagine this instead. You come home from ceremony, out of a dieta, or through a season that cracked you open, and what you touched doesn’t fade. It settles into your body. You stop bracing for the next thing. You trust what you know, and you speak from it. And the woman you met in that moment starts to feel less like a visit, and more like home.
I trained in what I wished someone had offered me. The grounded and the ceremonial. The ancient and the evidence-based. The shadow and the light.
I built a method that honors the full spectrum of what it takes to come home to yourself when the world as you know it no longer fits.
And I learned what changed everything: every opening is real, and it only lasts if it is integrated.
And now I hold that space for other women and practitioners of all walks. Privately 1:1, in small groups, and by teaching the practices themselves, so they are yours to keep.
What you’re feeling, the disorientation, the grief for your old life, the overwhelming knowing that something fundamental has shifted inside you, this is your shedding, and it is the beginning of something.
“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will rule your life and you will call it fate.”
The gap between the moment of feeling it and the daily life that did not yet hold it.
The cycles of falling back into old patterns, the projections, and the denial, because true integration, and the tools to live it, were missing.
The ceremony, the dieta, the life event, the awakening. If it has already happened, what it opened is still there to work with, however long ago it was. If it is still ahead of you, what it shows you depends on what you bring to it, so we prepare together: your intention, your nervous system, your protection, your discernment.
The part most people are left to do alone, and never taught how. With me, privately 1:1 or in a small group, we weave over five modalities, from ancient practices to neuroscience, into a way of living that fits the life you already have. You’ll catch old patterns as they happen, say what you actually mean, and lean on practices that hold, even on your busiest days and in the moments that count the most.
Where it all lands. You hold your ground in the conversation that used to shrink you, and your practices are there to return to, for life.
Transformation asks for devotion. Integration is where you give it.
Integration starts with being honest with ourselves and works best with non-judgment, unwavering support, guidance, vulnerability, reciprocal learning, accountability, sovereignty, consistency, deep commitment, maintenance, and having options that actually fit into your daily routine.
Most practitioners work from one side: either the grounded or the mystical. I hold both. And I built a proprietary method that weaves them together based on what each woman actually needs.
Because none of this comes from the sidelines. I had to live through my own hard, beautiful seasons. Then came the waking up, and the slow, messy work of loosening my ego’s grip. I still do my own work, and I always will, and I let it be light as well as deep. We must remember to have fun here too!
You work with me directly. I get to know your story and your patterns, and every session builds on the last.
This is for the woman ready to go past the surface. To remember who she already is, and build the life she came here to live. And the growth keeps going. Your practices stay yours for life, and there is always room to keep learning at Psyeed®.
If something here feels right, trust that. Chemistry matters. And if I’m not your person, that is truly okay. The right guide tends to show up just when you need them.
However you arrived here, there is a path designed for where you are right now.
For the woman approaching a ceremony or dieta, or home from one, ready to make what she found part of her life. Start before, after, or both.
For the woman who understands her patterns and still lives them. Six private months to reach the roots underneath, until the woman who knows her truth is the one she lives as every day.
This work begins with a conversation. If you’re ready to explore what’s next, I invite you to reach out.
