What if you’re not lost, but at a threshold?
You’ve been showing up for everyone else for a long time. I think it’s finally your turn.
I work with women at midlife, who are exhausted from giving too much.
You’re ready to stop fitting into everyone else’s story. You’ve given enough, made yourself small enough. What would happen if you stopped shaping yourself to fit roles someone else assigned you, grieved what you need to grieve, and opened yourself up to new possibilities?
You might be a nurse, a therapist, a doctor, social worker, teacher, or mom. You care. So much you’ll break yourself over the wounds you see. You want to bring good into the world, and meet the needs that keep popping up, and make things better for everyone you know. And you know what? I get it. I’ve been there too. But that kind of caregiving isn’t sustainable, it has an expiration date, and what happens on that date is up to you.
There is a whole new you waiting to be born: someone who works from centered strength, not depleted survival mode. Are you sitting in the pain of labor, confused about why it hurts so much? In that pain, I'll sit by your side and listen to your stories, so we can find out what is trying to be born in you. And the neighbors in the natural world are the circle of aunties outside the labor room door; ready to share wisdom of their own. We will examine the tales you've been told and believed about yourself, and you can decide if they are still true, or if they have ever been. I’ll bear witness to your work, guide you into nature-connected stillness, hold space, and celebrate with you as you find your way back to wholeness, joy, power and belonging. Can you enlarge our circle of care enough to fit yourself inside?
Maybe midlife isn’t a decline, but an awakening.
Why am I doing this? I spent 11 years at the bedside of the dying. I’ve sat at the most profound of thresholds, and it puts every moment of life into perspective. When the way I was doing that work exhausted me to the breaking point, all I had left in me was the strength to sit under a tree and cry. And so I did. As a 5th generation inhabitant of this valley, I turned to the forests I grew up in and walked through the thresholds that the trees make, into a new way of caring; one rooted in deep, daily nature connection, relinquishment of old stories about myself, and finding play, joy, and strength in this new season of life.
Evidence-based reset & recovery for the chronically overextended.
In my world, ‘Zen’ isn't always realistic. Life is sometimes heavy, and bliss can feel out of reach. I offer a different kind of space; one that doesn't require you to pretend or perform. We’re here for the honest, restorative kinship of the forest, exactly as we are.