Growing up, I was the girl playing the piano at the party. Maybe for an audience, maybe not. Later, if I wasn’t in the middle of the dancefloor, I was standing in front of the speaker — eyes closed, feeling the bass move through me .
I've spent my whole life in the feeling I get from music — chasing it, studying it, and eventually building a career around helping other people find their way into it.
But I didn't get here in a straight line.
I tried to be the performer. The songwriter. The solo artist. I kept putting myself in musical molds that didn't fit and wondering why it felt so wrong.
It wasn't until I stopped trying to be a certain kind of musician and started using music the way that actually lit me up — communally, expressively, in service of other people — that everything clicked.
That's when I understood something that changed everything for me: The problem was never your relationship with music. It was that nobody ever helped you design the right one.
I became a Certified Music Therapist (MTA) because I wanted to be in the room when music does its most powerful work. Over a decade of clinical practice, I've watched music transform people who couldn't find the words, couldn't regulate their nervous systems, couldn't connect — until the music started. Those moments are why I do this.
And personally? I'm still on the journey. These days I'm finding my way back to my own playing after years of music becoming work, then becoming background, then becoming something I miss. I know what it feels like to be itching to return to something and not quite knowing how. I'm figuring it out in real time — and that's exactly what I help others do.
Music as self-care. Music as self-discovery. Music as self-proclamation.
That's what this is. And I'd love to help you find your version of it.
For more details about my work, experiences and credentials, check out my LinkedIn profile.
