Sometimes what you think you want, is not what you actually want. I spent twenty years chained to a desk at a marketing job that paid the bills but left me hollow.

So I decided to go for broke and I quit that job to build a six-figure floral business — the kind that lands you in the New York Times and on set of a BMW commercial building a floral tunnel. I drove a van full of thousands of dollars worth of wedding flowers to the San Juan Islands — dry ice in the back and the windows cracked so we didn't asphyxiate. I spent two days flowering a dinner at a Michelin level restaurant with two of my personal floral heroes.

It was one of the wildest, most successful, and most adventurous times of my life. And it almost did me in.

Toward the end of it, I was on my hands and knees on cold tile of the bathroom floor, beads of sweat on my forehead from excruciating back pain. I said out loud, to no one in particular, "why am I doing this?" Somewhere in the back of my mind came an old familiar voice that said, "you are trying to be loved."

I had lost eight babies in eight years, watched the love of my life walk out the door in the middle of a pandemic and now this career (the thing that was supposed to save me) was betraying me.

Did I feel loved yet? Nope. I felt utterly alone.

After my back healed and I could finally stand up straight, I realized it was time to face the grief and the lifelong patterns that had gotten me here. I hired a coach and a therapist and I made a commitment to go outside every day for at least five minutes so I could get out of my head and back into my body.

This was not easy. At first, it was excruciating to be in my body. I hated being alone. It was devastating to feel my feelings. It was terrifying to acknowledge what I had lost. But, at the end of that tunnel, I found the most profound and abiding relationship of my life — with myself.

And then, I decided to ask for more. I sold my house and most of my things and moved 800 miles away, to live in the woods. I began to make real, clear boundaries that honor my capacity (and I stopped feeling any fear about saying no). Then, I found the courage to change careers (again) at 45 which allowed me to step into the most connecting, fulfilling vocation of my life.

The work I do is rooted in my belief that nature is the best therapist you will find — and you are the best authority over what you need. I'm simply here to guide you back to yourself. My work is grounded in evidence-based modalities including humanistic psychology, mindfulness, embodied awareness, and Internal Family Systems. It has taken me years to hone my craft and learn how to serve the tired humans I work with best. And, in practice, it is simple.

Every other week, you step outside for a nature walk and call me. Over time, everything changes.

When I'm not walking with tired humans, I'm writing a memoir about grief and rebirth in the wilderness, petting my dog Moon, chasing my cat around, sending embarrassingly outdated gifs to my twenty-year-old kid, and watching the sun rise over coffee with my partner Josef.