My journey

It wasn’t a single moment that changed everything, but a quiet unravelling.
A slow invitation to feel, to listen, to come back.

Now the question that guides me is,
“How do we return to the truth of who we are - again and again, as we change?”

This path has taken me through layers of unravelling and gentle reweaving, but it’s the deeper work of
re-inhabiting myself that continues to shape how I hold space and serve others.

It began with the body shutting down

There came a time when I couldn’t quite feel myself anymore. I was constantly tired, sick, and in physical pain, and no amount of doing or striving seemed to help. My mind was always reaching forward, but my body felt like it was calling out to be heard.

Before that, I had spent nearly a decade in the UK working in various global corporate companies, eventually taking on leadership roles; coaching, building teams, and creating spaces where people could show up as they were. I loved holding space for others to grow, connect with their potential and feel seen. But in the process, I began to sense a growing distance between the way I was supporting others, and how I was showing up for myself, family and friends. Something in me felt misaligned, like I was living from the neck up.

The roots were laid much earlier

The disconnection didn’t start with me. I grew up shaped by the imprint of intergenerational war trauma - unspoken fear, survival patterns, and emotional silence passed down through the nervous systems of those before me. Safety was something I didn’t yet have a felt sense of in my body.

This translated into how I related to myself from a young age. I had social anxiety and developed an eating disorder early on, which became a way of coping, controlling, and avoiding what I didn’t yet have the capacity to feel. While I moved through recovery, the residue of those years remained in my system. Unprocessed and unspoken, they quietly guided how I moved through the world.

Healing wasn’t
(and still isn’t) linear

I briefly studied neuroscience & psychology in university, drawn to the intricacies of the mind and how we make sense of the world. But it wasn’t until after a long season of depression following major eye surgery, and cycles of illness and constant fatigue, that I began to look for healing in a different way - not through understanding, but through presence and sensation.

I initially sought out traditional talk-based and physical therapies. Some brought insight, others offered temporary (and sometimes cathartic) relief. Yet something always remained just beneath the surface. Reiki became my first doorway inward, offering a kind of stillness that bypassed the mind and allowed deeper layers to surface. It helped me begin listening to the language of my body and sensing what lays beyond the physical – which is often simple, quiet and felt.

Returning to the body

It was from that first session where I started to develop a deep knowing that the body held stories the mind can't name, and that eventually led me to the world of somatic bodywork on the healing table. First as a client, then as a practitioner.

As I both learned and received different disciplines of somatic body work practices, I began to reconnect with the places that had gone quiet inside me. I learned that trauma isn’t merely what happens to us, but what what adaptations our body and innate intelligence creates from an external event; which ultimately shapes our thoughts, our triggers and how we live. Until it is integrated, it lives on in us, often from generations before. It lives in the tissues, in the pauses, in the inherited patterns of holding and bracing.

And I learned that healing isn’t about fixing. It’s about listening. About making space for what never had the space before. The body is designed to be naturally resilient and healthy, but overtime, stressors get in the way of this process, and we learn to ignore the cues that our body gives us.

A life long journey

This practice is a lifelong unfolding, one of presence, reconnection, and deep remembering. I continue to study, to listen, to unlearn. And what I offer is a space for others to do the same: to gently return to their bodies, to their breath, to their inner rhythms.

This work is for those who carry stress, fatigue, grief, physical pain or disconnection in their bodies. Those who have done the work and still feel a quiet ache. For those shaped by stories that began before they were born.

What we do in the session is guided by what your body is ready to reveal. Towards safety, towards sensation, towards wholeness.