A young woman with wavy brown hair sitting on a fluffy white chair, resting her chin on her hand. She is wearing a brown T-shirt and white pants, with a thoughtful expression. There is a piano with sheet music behind her.

Meet Olivia

A woman with curly brown hair sitting on a tan sofa with a beige pillow, smiling and holding her chest with both hands. She is wearing a brown T-shirt and white pants. Behind her is a white wall, and to her right is a side table with a plant, some books, a lid, and a stack of papers, as well as a keyboard and a notepad on her lap.
Olivia Apara in the 90's. A young girl in a sleeveless, floral dress with pink and blue patterns is sitting at a black table, playing the piano.

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.

Olivia Apara and client in a session. Two ukuleles, one wooden and one painted pink, resting on a table with sheet music in an open orange folder, with a window showing snowy trees in the background.

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.