Hello!

For most of my life, I followed the rules for success – study hard, aim high, achieve more. I earned a PhD in neuroscience and worked across public, academic, and corporate sectors (in clinical trials, research, and the pharmaceutical industry), searching for ways to understand mental health and disease. I hoped for a “eureka moment” that would offer real solutions for people who were suffering. People were proud of me, told me that they were impressed by my credentials. But despite ticking the boxes, I didn’t feel happy.
 

Growing up, I often felt disconnected – from my emotions, my body, and any real sense of self. Like many of us, I was taught to keep going, to be strong, and to survive. As a teenager, I experienced depression, but I didn’t want to admit it. I thought if I could just understand the brain, I could fix myself… so I studied neuroscience! But the more I achieved, the more lost I felt. I kept waiting for life to begin, for happiness to arrive, for confidence to appear.
 

Eventually, I turned toward practices that allowed me to feel again: yoga, meditation, spirituality. At first, they were tools to cope. Over time, they became ways to heal. I found moments of stillness, of clarity, of connection with myself, at last. I began to identify and unlearn the beliefs I had built around shame, self-doubt, and emotional silence.
 

After completing my yoga teacher training, I wanted to explore breathwork more deeply. It bridged my love of science with the inner transformation I’d found through spiritual practice. On the recommendation of a mentor, I also trained in craniosacral therapy, which I have found to offer a profound way to support myself and others through gentleness, presence, and the body’s innate wisdom.
 

For me, this work is not about “fixing” anyone. It’s about remembering who we are beneath the survival strategies, the old stories, and the patterns we carry. It’s about meeting ourselves, perhaps for the first time, with compassion and curiosity.
 

Now, I guide others in reconnecting with their bodies, their breath, and what lives underneath it all. Not because I have all the answers, but because I’ve walked this path, and I know what it means to feel lost, and to find your way home. This isn’t a journey with a final destination. It continues to evolve, and so do I. Healing doesn’t have to be dramatic or perfect. It can be slow, subtle, and sacred. It can be yours.