I help women over 30 find the love of their life.
So they stop settling and finally call in the man who matches the love they want.
You’ve read the books, sat in the therapy chair, maybe even perfected the art of saying “I feel” instead of starting a fight.
And still, here you are. Smart, capable, thirty-something, and waking up with that familiar ache after yet another man who couldn’t meet you.
You’re not broken. Your nervous system just keeps pulling you back to what’s familiar.
That’s exactly where I was at the end of 2014, I was glowing. Thriving therapy practice, passport full of stamps, on paper the kind of woman who had it all together.
And then I stumbled into a relationship that turned out to be my personal spiritual smackdown. A masterclass in self-worth, disguised as “love.”
I was winning at life… just not at love.
And the wildest part? It wasn’t because I didn’t know better.
I’d trained with the greats: The Gottmans, Terry Real, Stan Tatkin, Esther Perel.
I had all the tools: how to repair, self-regulate, speak my truth, set a boundary while staying open and unbothered. I taught the tools.
But here’s what nobody tells you:
You can master every relationship skill in the world, but if you pick him from your wounds, don’t expect him to magically transform into the kind of man you aren’t even fully ready to receive.
Because your nervous system doesn’t choose based on logic. It chooses based on what feels familiar (even if familiar is a dumpster fire).
And what felt familiar to me?
Calling emotional chaos “chemistry.”
Believing passion + panic = destiny
Putting my needs third, fourth, twelfth… because “this time it might work.”
Pouring in oceans of love, he’d magically turn into a man who could show up for me.
My body was thrilled to do the anxious-avoidant tango again, even while my brain screamed, for the love of God, please stop.
So I stayed too long. I begged for scraps. I ate crumbs and called them “connection.” I walked on eggshells and convinced myself it was better than being alone.
Until one day, something in me snapped. My soul whispered, I’m done. Never again.
That’s when everything shifted. I stopped promising I’d “do better” and actually did the deeper work — the kind that unhooks ancestral patterns, rewires your nervous system, and makes settling feel physically impossible.
The work that helped me stop handing my heart to men who couldn’t carry it. The work that woke up a level of self-worth I didn’t even know I was allowed to claim.
Seven months after walking away from that relationship? I met Scott. The love of my life.
