For most of my life, I was a teacher—designing and guiding learning experiences for people ages 3 to 85.
That changed when I became a caregiver.
Six months into my marriage, my then-spouse was hospitalized. Later my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. For years, I supported them both—while trying to hold everything else together.
From the outside, I was functioning. But internally, I was stretched thin—struggling to maintain balance, express my voice, or find the energy to create.
My yoga, marathon running, journaling, guided meditation didn’t shift what was underneath.
My then-counselor introduced me to two books—Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself by Dr. Joe Dispenza and You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay.
As I began to understand the mind-body connection more deeply, my spiritual practice expanded. I became a TM (Transcendental Meditation) practitioner, using an assigned mantra to quiet my mind and access a steadier, more grounded state within myself.
Around that time, I read Setting Boundaries Will Set You Free by Nancy Levin—and through her group coaching, I began to see patterns I hadn’t noticed before: perfectionism, over-responsibility, and the ways I had learned to override myself in the name of being strong or helpful.
As those layers unraveled, something else became possible.
I found space to process grief, trauma, and loss—including a pregnancy loss just months before my mother passed. I began to not cross my own boundaries, making different choices, and reconnecting with my own voice—even when it meant making difficult decisions, like ending a 15-year relationship.
Choosing my well-being over his was not easy but necessary.
Over time, I didn’t just feel more like myself again—I felt lighter.
That experience changed the direction of my work.
After witnessing gaps in care while supporting my mom, I became a certified elder and end-of-life doula, helping bridge communication between patients, families, and care teams.
In wanting to better support people navigating stress, anticipatory grief, and complex decisions, I found coaching—and it felt like a natural extension of everything I had lived and learned.
Today, I bring together my background in education, caregiving, and coaching to support people who are holding a lot—so they can move through their lives with more clarity, steadiness, and self-trust.
As a recovering perfectionist and overachiever, I don’t aim to do everything perfectly—I aim to stay connected to myself while I’m doing it. I still trip over things sometimes (life has a way of doing that), but I meet myself with more grace than I used to.
I’ve learned to honor all parts of myself—the light and the harder-to-hold pieces—knowing they’ve shaped who I am today. Change doesn’t happen all at once; it unfolds and expands over time.
I founded Guiding Routes for those ready to reconnect with their own inner direction—to find their North Star from within. My company name is an homage to my paternal grandfather, who built some of the first roads in North Carolina—creating smoother, safer pathways that helped people get where they needed to go.
My work is similar, just on a different kind of journey.
Together, we create a clearer path forward—so you can move toward a new way of being, without needing to step away from your life to find it.
I’m based in NYC, a marathoner, and a developing ballet dancer. I live with my partner, his son, and our Westie, Chloe—who brings a lot of personality (and “Westitude”) into our home.
My grandaddy helped build roads so people could find their way. I’ve been doing something similar ever since—minus the not-so-great perm!
Trust is sacred. My moral and ethical compasses guide my decisions. When I make a mistake, I am transparent, apologetic and hold myself accountable.
I treat others how I want to be treated. As part of my altruistic nature, if I can lighten your load–physically, emotionally or spirituality, I will. I also treat myself with kindness and compassion, because if it is not something I would say or do to a loved one, then it is not for me.
I’m dedicated to nurturing healthy relationships and supporting the people and pups in my life—and I’ve learned to turn that same care inward, so I can live and show up with more balance.
I strive to be better than I was yesterday. I embrace set backs and mistakes as opportunities to succeed in the future.
I set and maintain healthy boundaries because I can’t continue to give, work or be from a place of depletion. Saying, “No” is a complete sentence but saying it graciously is an artform.
It’s not just about original thought or novel expression —it’s what allows me to stay flexible when solving problems, adapt when old ways stop working, and notice possibilities I might have otherwise missed.