I was born in Columbia, SC, into a family filled with love and affection, though it was a time when emotions—especially those like anger and grief—were not openly expressed. When I was seven, my grandfather, who lived with us, died. I was left with so many unanswered questions: How could God let this happen? Where is he now? Like many families then, we didn’t talk about it. My grief became something I carried quietly, on my own.

Nine years later, as a sophomore in high school, I came home one night to find my mother at the door. I knew immediately something was wrong. Through tears, she told me my best friend had been killed in a car accident. Once again, the big questions came rushing back. Even surrounded by others who were grieving, I found myself alone with it—crying in my room, eventually tucking those questions away so I could keep going.

In college, while majoring in studio art, I began to discover how creating—through sculpture and painting—helped me access both buried joy and unprocessed sorrow. It was powerful, though temporary; the sense of relief faded when the creating stopped.

In the 90s, I began choreographing and leading fitness videos for The Firm, some of which ranked #1 nationally. Through transforming my physical body, I became fascinated by how movement could shift my mood and ease stress. At the same time, I came face-to-face with my own struggles—ego, judgment, fear, anxiety, and feelings of unworthiness.

Life continued to bring both great joy and deep loss. I met my soulmate and became engaged, but three months before our wedding, my father died. A year and a half later, I gave birth to my first child in the same hospital where my mother was dying—she passed away one week after holding her grandson.

Through it all, art and movement remained essential ways of processing my experiences. But it wasn’t until 1999, during my first pregnancy, that I discovered yoga and meditation—and everything began to shift. For the first time, I found a path to deep, sustainable healing. Through breath, movement, stillness, and meditation, I gained access to my inner world in a way that felt both honest and freeing. I learned not just to carry my stories, but to understand and release them.

I committed to a daily practice, and over time, that path naturally led me to teaching. With the guidance of my teachers, I came to understand that yoga and meditation are not just practices—they are a way of living and creating sustainable positive evolution. A way of shaping a life where everything becomes part of the practice, and life itself becomes a beautiful work of art.