About Me
My Story
For most of my twenties, I didn't know who I actually was. I knew how to perform, how to be whomever the room needed me to be.
The right degree, the right job, the right version of myself for every person in my life.
My actual self, what I wanted, what I valued, what felt true, I'd buried that so deep I'd forgotten it was there.
It all started in 2019, when I suffered from my first bout of depression. Back then, I didn't even know what it was. It was a very new feeling and experience for me.
I had no idea how to handle it. Slowly, it turned to suicidal thoughts. Dark ones. My world was collapsing. I had severe anxiety and depression. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, puked everything out after eating and just stayed in my room the whole day.
Then COVID-19 happened, and I went home to my family. Something shifted. Being with my family, I realised how important I am to them. How much they love me, and taking my life would be the worst thing to do to them.
Time passed, and I decided to take one day at a time, one moment at a time. I could do this.
Somewhere in that stillness, I found the piano. I don't know why, I just sat down and started playing. And for the first time in months, I was just there. Present. Not in my head. Not rehearsing tomorrow or replaying yesterday.
Just sound, and fingers, and breath. It didn't fix anything. But it reminded me that I was still capable of being in a moment, and that felt like enough to keep going.
I started to heal. One day at a time. I was later diagnosed with Bipolar-1.
Since then, I've had 3 depressive episodes and 3 manic episodes, including one with psychosis. But I'm doing great now. I exercise, I meditate, I take my medicines.
What that whole experience taught me, the thing I couldn't have learned any other way, is that the cost of not being yourself is enormous. The inauthenticity had a price. And I'd been paying it for years without realising it.
The real healing came when I started asking different questions. Who am I, actually? What do I want, separate from what everyone told me to want? What would it feel like to just be myself, unflinchingly, without constantly checking whether other people approve?
Those questions changed my life. They're the ones I now sit with my clients.
Why I Do This
Here's something I think about a lot: this universe is 14 billion years old. We live on a tiny planet, in one of billions of galaxies, in a cosmos so vast that the human mind genuinely cannot hold it.
In that context, your life is a blip. A beautiful, unrepeatable, extraordinarily brief blip.
I have a tattoo on my forearm that says memento mori — remember that you will die.
Not as a dark reminder, but as a liberating one.
If this is all the time you get, doesn't that change what's worth worrying about? Doesn't it make living someone else's life seem like the real tragedy?
That's the philosophy underneath everything I do.
Not the self-help version of authenticity, vision boards and positive affirmations, but the real thing.
The uncomfortable, liberating, occasionally terrifying work of figuring out who you actually are and choosing to live like that matters.
Because it does. And you won't get another shot at it.
My Approach
I'm trained as a coach, currently completing my ICF ACC certification, which means my job in our sessions is not to give you advice or tell you what to do.
It's to ask the questions that help you hear yourself clearly, maybe for the first time.
I work with people who are high-functioning on the outside but deeply misaligned on the inside.
People who've spent years being who everyone else needed them to be, and are finally, quietly, exhausted by it.
My sessions are honest, direct, and occasionally uncomfortable. I don't do toxic positivity.
I don't tell you everything is fine if it isn't.
But I also don't let you stay stuck in the story that things can't change, because I've lived the other side of that story myself.
I play piano, not well enough to perform, but well enough to disappear into it for minutes.
I read philosophy obsessively, lose hours thinking about cosmology, and believe deeply that the unexamined life is not just unpleasant, it's a waste of the only one you get.
Ready to stop performing?
If any of this felt like it was written about you, or written by someone who might actually understand what you're carrying, I'd love to talk.