What Lives Here
What you’ll find here is a digital echo — the fingerprints of a passion project that turned into a business but has always been art at its core: a reclamation of what I lost in the wake of having children, and a celebration of what I found along the way.
For me, this art is all about holding space: witnessing, tending struggle with curiosity, and holding my own energy strong. Without flinching. It’s a space where I explore how we hold people — and how we hold ourselves — in the thick of identity rupture, reinvention, and return.
This site houses the tangible, articulated parts of what I believe motherhood can be — not just the early parts, but the whole damn spiral. It’s a space for quiet power, honest reflection, and the creative force of womanhood in all its forms. Like a mandala, it centers and expands at the same time. The patterns repeat, but the shape keeps shifting.
Like me, this project has evolved over time. What lives here now is my linguistic art, a few ways to step in and share space with me, and an open invitation to lean into your own unraveling — because that’s where the becoming begins.
The Beginning
Mandala started with a shitty birth and a slow, painful reckoning. I trusted the system, didn’t know what I didn’t know, and gave away my power — which, as it turns out, is the thing I value most. Autonomy. The ability to choose, to know, and to center my own experience.
No one around me seemed to understand why that mattered so much. I just felt crazy. Until I met a doula who didn’t try to fix me — she just held space. Witnessed. Modeled what it looked like to sit with yourself. Even when you’re terrified. Even when your world collapses and you don’t think you can keep going. Because that’s where the power comes from — being able to hold that charge and not fall apart.
Once I got a taste of what it felt like to be free, I knew I had to help others find that feeling, too. And — even though I was a medically-minded educator by trade — I knew that wouldn’t happen by teaching or fixing. So I learned how to hold. Reflect without agenda. Believe in people until they remember who the hell they are.
That’s always been the heartbeat of this work. Even as it’s shifted from perinatal support to the liminal, spiritual, psychological edges — it’s all still about power, threshold, and return.
What I Mean By Motherhood
When I started this work, “motherhood” meant the perinatal threshold — the messy, milk-stained, sleep-deprived entry point. But it didn’t take me long to see that the transition into a different way of showing up to life never really ends.
Once you take on the responsibility of supporting another being in the human experience, you are profoundly and permanently changed. Motherhood isn’t just a phase — it’s a force, and it never leaves you.
It cracks you open and points out all the ways you’ve made yourself smaller, more digestible, chasing control that’s really just an illusion. It asks you to stop trying and just be. To flow. Surrender. And not out of defeat, not at all — out of an acceptance of the natural rhythm.
Motherhood is the pinnacle of feminine energy at work. It looks like it’s not doing anything at all, and that’s completely the point. Not gendered. Not limited. Just unapologetically alive.
Who I Am (Now)
I’ve tried on a lot of titles: educator, writer, patient advocate, doula, mother. But these days, I’m more interested in the energy I bring than the role I fill.
I’ve stopped chasing outcomes. In fact, I’ve stopped chasing period. Now I sit back and watch things happen. I’ve reduced my “try” by probably 70% — and I’m thriving. It’s kind of wild.
I’m discovering the sharp edge of my intuition and learning how to trust it. I’m stepping into rooms I didn’t used to feel like I belonged in and leaving a mark. And I’m walking away from things that no longer fit — even ones I once loved — because I know I’m still becoming. Change always means letting some things burn.
I used to fear uncertainty. Now I know it’s the only road to choice and possibility.
I don’t show up with answers. I don’t have them. I show up with presence. Calibration. Capacity to hold the charge of this moment — whether it’s grief, ecstasy, rage, or release. Because I have cultivated the capacity to hold all of them.
And I don’t ask you to follow me. I hold the mirror steady so you can find your own fire.
Who I am now is a woman in motion: intuitive, creative, sexual, evolving. I’m not afraid of my own power anymore. I’m embodying it.
Ways to Step In
You’re already here. Do what you want.
If something in this space lights a spark, don’t you dare put it down. Follow it. You don’t need an agenda or an intellectual need. Most people who land in my orbit don’t. They just know it feels right.
Right now, there are a few ways to join me:
One-on-one sessions for when you’re standing at your own edge and need a steady hand to hold while you jump.
Group experiences that bring people into the fold together — raw, real, and ready for the next layer.
Content and extras — podcast episodes, audio musings, and digital downloads, for when you want to feel the fire without being inside of it.
My email list + Facebook musings, where I drop whatever’s sparking for me in this season.
I’m not a service provider. I’m just me, inviting you to step closer to yourself. And I hope you do it. Because I want to see what you’re made of. 🔥