I help people figure out what they want, and then go after it.

Both sides of life

I grew up seeing and experiencing both sides of life: real chaos, and real healing, stability and goodness. Both drew me toward this work.

Building my own operating system

In grad school, I took a career development course and loved it. It was also personal. I was living with ADHD and didn't know it. I wasn't diagnosed until my early 30s, though part of me always knew.

I couldn't count on motivation, so I built my own operating system: life and career plans, weekly systems, protocols for starting, and structure to come back to when I fell off. It worked. I finished with a 3.97 GPA, and I learned something I'd spend years proving: structure works when willpower doesn't.

Where the system broke

I became a career counselor, first interning at a university and then working at another. I liked it, but something was missing.

Someone would come in without clarity or direction, and the process was "here's a test, go figure it out" or "let's look at your resume." People either winged it, taking whatever came next, or went treasure hunting for the one perfect career, as if it were buried somewhere waiting to be found. Underneath both was an assumption I now call the "just do it" fallacy: the idea that once you know what you want, you'll go do it.

I knew that wasn't true, because I'd lived it. Knowing was never my problem. Starting was. Following through was. Coming back after a bad week was.

Going deeper

Being a licensed counselor in a career center never quite fit. It wasn't really therapy, and therapy wasn't really looking at career. I wanted more depth, so I went further into therapy. My niche was career-related work, and over time that became ADHD and burnout. I drew on narrative counseling, solution-focused brief therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy.

Therapy has its place, and I'm grateful for it. It also has limits. Insight is powerful, but understanding why you're stuck doesn't teach you how to start. I watched people finally make sense of their patterns and still struggle on Monday morning. The "just do it" fallacy was alive in therapy too. There, it sounded like: once you understand why, you'll change.

Life and career are woven together: identity, health, roles, occupation, choices, decisions, and the executive function that runs all of it. Almost nobody was working on the whole thing at once. That puts enormous pressure on people, and it's why so many end up overwhelmed and shut down. It was never a character flaw. The system was missing a piece.

Building the missing piece

So I moved into coaching. It was the answer to what I'd been circling for years: support, strategy and scaffolding. Coaching doesn't assume the doing takes care of itself. Figuring out what you want is step one; going after it gets its own plan and support.

I brought more than ten years of career counseling and everything I'd learned with me, and built it into a framework: a clear process, the structure to follow it, and a real person in your corner. My specialties are neurodivergence, burnout and executive function, the space between knowing and doing. Career is often where it shows up first, but the skills carry into every part of life.