I Knew What Needed to Change.
I Just Couldn't Make Myself Do It

For years
I wore a mask.

Successful on the outside. Disconnected on the inside. I built a career, a wardrobe, a reputation. I made sure I was in the right rooms with the right people. And privately — I was frigid and hollow, beneath all of it, I was quietly falling apart.

I knew something was wrong. I'd known for a long time. But knowing and doing are different things. I kept moving, kept achieving, kept numbing the distance between who I was and who I knew I could be.

Then I lost the job I thought defined me. And everything unraveled.

In that moment I had a choice. Keep numbing or face reality.
I chose reality.

I quit drinking. I left the industry. I walked into the wilderness, literally, and started the work I'd been avoiding for years. Shadow work. Grief. Identity. The parts of myself I'd buried under performance and productivity.

I found the place I'd been making decisions from my whole life. Shame. Scarcity. The constant question underneath everything — am I safe, do I fit, will I be loved?

And I learned — slowly, painfully, completely — to make decisions from somewhere new.

That's how I know this work. Not from a certification. From living it.

The Path That Shaped This Work

I didn't arrive here quickly. Years of going into the places most coaches avoid — ontological coaching, grief tending, shadow work, somatic practice, myth, wilderness, trauma-informed work, six vision quests — so I could learn to guide others there.

This isn't a methodology I studied. It's a territory I've walked.

This is the Work Behind The Work

Who I Am Now

Based in Denver. Working with leaders globally. Sixteen clients at a time because this work requires presence and presence requires limits.

I'm the person you call when you've done therapy, read the books, achieved the things, and still feel like a stranger to yourself.

You built a life that you no longer fit in.
I know that feeling in my body. And I know the way through.


I know you're tired.

I've been there.

There is hope.


Ready to Talk?

If something in you said finally while reading this — that's worth a conversation.