I grew up in New York City, shaped by its energy, pace, and constant movement (& sarcasm). Slowing down has never come naturally to me, which is partly why the inner work of stillness and self-inquiry has been so transformative.

Shortly after moving to California, I faced an attachment wound that shook my sense of self and made me question who I was beneath roles and expectations. This uncertainty sparked a deep curiosity about my inner world. I was introduced to a spiritual teacher whose guidance, rooted in mindfulness and Eastern philosophy, opened me to new ways of seeing myself. Through meditation retreats and dedicated practice, I experienced the power of being truly seen and learned how essential a safe, compassionate space is for self-inquiry and transformation. As my inner work deepened, spending time immersed in nature through backpacking took those lessons to a new level. I learned more about resilience, humility, and what it feels like to belong to something bigger. Offering this same spaciousness to others is a core motivation behind my work.

Before becoming a therapist, I spent years in the entertainment industry, advocating for writers and directors not only for their talent, but for who they were as people, the stories they felt called to tell, and how their stories could impact the world. I cared deeply about helping them believe in themselves and navigate a demanding system, and I eventually realized that the part of my job I loved most was the part that looked a lot like therapy.

I was also drawn to hospice work by a long-standing fear of death. Spending time with people at the end of life showed me what truly matters - connection, living with intention, and being present. It also highlighted how much our culture avoids mortality, and how meeting it can bring focus, gratitude, and a clearer sense of meaning.

When I am not with clients, you can find me hiking, reading novels, crying about the terrible sports teams I root for, or playing with my sweet angel cat Hobbes.