From a young age, I’ve been a wanderer—curious, intuitive, and deeply connected to the natural world. Growing up on a farm as the youngest child by many years, I found companionship in animals, especially my pony and cat, as we explored the countryside together on grand adventures.

My first taste of the wider world came in high school on a trip to New York, and later, at 18, when I traveled to Scotland to help on a family friend’s farm. That experience opened something in me—a lifelong desire to explore, connect, and understand the world and my place within it.

As a child, I often had feelings and knowings that didn’t quite make sense to the adults around me. My questions were often dismissed, except by a kind Irish minister who spoke to me about God in ways that stayed with me. Still, I grew up with a quiet skepticism—torn between the spiritual truths I felt and the beliefs I was taught. It took time (and many detours) to begin trusting my own inner compass again.

School brought its own challenges. I struggled with attention, often finishing tasks quickly but missing important details. Much later in life, when supporting my son through a similar experience, I learned that I’m dyslexic. This insight brought a sense of clarity and compassion for the mistakes and missteps I’d carried for years—and helped explain why I was drawn to a healing profession. My work as a practitioner isn’t just informed by intuition and sensitivity, but also by the creative, non-linear way my mind works.

I’ve also come to understand aspects of myself that once felt like contradictions. I’ve always questioned authority and resisted conformity—what some might label a “defiant personality.” In my youth, that looked like stubbornness or even arrogance. Today, it feels more like a quiet conviction: “I don’t know everything, but that doesn’t feel right.”

These days, I start and end each day in reflection—attuning to dreams, listening for signs, and doing my best to live in alignment. I don’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do believe that by sharing our stories honestly, we can help others navigate their own. If my path can ease even one person’s journey, then perhaps all the struggle will have meaning.