Mentoring Women in the Middle

MY STORY

How I came to this work of holding women through change.

I come from a family of women who knew how to hold space.

My mom was a hospice nurse. She believed that death could be beautiful, that endings, even painful ones, deserved presence, dignity, and love. She was calm, steady, and able to sit in silence with people when there were no more words to say.

My sister was a midwife. She caught babies, comforted mothers, and helped bring life into the world with reverence and strength. Her work was hands-on, raw, and real. She knew how to witness beginnings.

And then there was me, somewhere in the middle. I’ve always felt drawn to the space between what was and what’s next. The thresholds. The identity shifts. The moments when life cracks open and something new wants to come through.

Even as a little girl, I noticed things. I could feel what people weren’t saying. I knew when something was off before anyone said it out loud.

People came to me, not because I had answers, but because I knew how to be with them in what they were feeling. I didn’t have the language for it back then. I just knew how to listen, how to sit close to someone’s pain without turning away.

In my early adulthood, I began to understand that these threshold moments weren’t just emotional, they were essential. And they needed to be honored. For nearly a decade, I created and led rite of passage retreats for girls transitioning into womanhood. The retreats were called Becoming Women. And even though I was still becoming myself, I knew how to hold space for the beauty, grief, and power of change.

I’ve lived through enough transitions of my own to know how deep this space goes.

Becoming a mother changed me.

Losing my marriage changed me.

The death of my mother changed me.

Losing work that once defined me changed me.

Watching my kids grow up and leave home changed me.

Each one of these shifts took something I once held as part of who I was, and left me standing in the question of who I am now.

There were seasons when everything fell apart on the outside or the inside, and I had to figure out how to keep moving while I was still unraveling.

So much of what I now offer came from walking through my own fires. I didn’t learn this in a weekend workshop; I lived it. I had to learn how to grieve what was ending, how to sit in the discomfort of not knowing, how to listen for what was next when all I could hear was silence.

Over time, I began to understand that this was my gift: Not fixing. Not teaching steps. But being able to hold a woman while she found her way through.

I trained in communication, coaching, somatic work, parts work… not to collect certificates, but to give shape to something I already knew in my bones. For over 30 years, I’ve held retreats, facilitated circles, and walked beside women through some of the most tender and transformative moments of their lives.

This is the work I was made for.

I’m not here to give you a map.I’m here to walk beside you as you remember who you are, in the messy middle, in the letting go, in the quiet becoming.

I believe every woman deserves a soft place to land.

To be heard.

To be held.

To be reminded that the space she’s in, even if it feels like falling apart, is actually a powerful part of her becoming.

If that’s where you are, I’m here.