My story
I Wasn't Broken.
I Was Becoming.
Mother of five. Three of my children have ADHD and autism. I spent years fighting for them to be understood — while quietly falling apart myself. Then 2020 cracked me open, and I finally stopped running from the truth about who I was.
The chapters that brought me here
The unravelling
Rock Bottom Looked Like a Pandemic
When the world shut down in 2020, so did I. I was a mother of five, three of whom had already been diagnosed with ADHD and autism. I had spent years in waiting rooms, fighting for their assessments, advocating in school meetings, learning everything I could about how their minds worked — all while running on empty and wondering why I could never seem to hold it together myself.
When the busyness stopped, the silence was deafening. My business collapsed. My coping mechanisms — constant motion, relentless doing — were suddenly gone. And without them, I had to face what I'd been running from for a very long time. I was 34 years old and I had no idea who I was.
The diagnosis
The Word That Changed Everything
At 35, I was diagnosed with ADHD. The cruel irony wasn't lost on me — I had spent years helping three of my children navigate their own diagnoses, learning the language of neurodivergence, fighting for their right to be understood. And the whole time, I was living the same story. I just hadn't been given the words for it yet.
Instead of feeling defeated, I felt something I hadn't felt in years: relief. There was a reason. There had always been a reason. I wasn't broken — I was wired differently. And nobody had ever told me that was okay. The diagnosis cracked open a door I didn't know existed. But the clinical answers only went so far. What I needed wasn't just a diagnosis. I needed a framework for my soul.
The turning point
When Spirituality Became My Anchor
I'd always been drawn to the spiritual — to ritual, to nature, to the quiet knowing that lives beneath the noise. But I'd dismissed it as impractical. As something for people who had their lives together. As I rebuilt from the ground up, I stopped dismissing it.
I began journaling with intention. I built morning rituals that honoured my nervous system instead of fighting it. I found community with women who understood the particular ache of feeling like too much and not enough at the same time. And slowly, something shifted. I stopped trying to fix myself. I started learning to work with myself.
The calling
Purpose Arrived Quietly
I didn't plan to become a coach. I planned to quietly rebuild my life and keep most of it to myself. But women kept finding me — in comments, in DMs, in conversations that started with 'I've never told anyone this, but...' Many of them were mothers. Mothers who had spent years pouring everything into their children's needs while their own went unmet. Mothers who had been told they were too much, or not enough, or simply exhausted.
Her Spiritual Success was born from those conversations. Not from a business plan, but from a calling. A recognition that the very things I'd been ashamed of — my sensitivity, my chaos, my unconventional path, my beautifully complicated family — were exactly what made me the right guide for the women who needed me most.
What I Believe
You are not broken
Your sensitivity, your intensity, your non-linear path — these are not flaws to fix. They are the raw material of your purpose.
Healing is not linear
There is no straight line from broken to whole. There is only the next honest step, taken with as much gentleness as you can manage.
Spirituality is practical
Ritual, intention, and inner work are not luxuries. They are the most practical tools I know for building a life that actually fits you.
You deserve to be witnessed
One of the most healing things a human being can experience is being truly seen. That is what I offer — and what I ask you to offer yourself.
Training & Approach
Ready to Begin?
If any part of my story felt like yours — the chaos, the sensitivity, the years of putting everyone else first — I'd love to hear from you. You don't have to have it figured out. You just have to take one honest step.