In May 2023, I was walking down the street when I was attacked from behind by a stranger experiencing drug-induced psychosis. I had no idea what the fuck had just happened. Multiple fractures, having my eyelids and face stitched back together, two facial reconstruction surgeries, permanent damage (and coming frighteningly close to losing sight in one eye), and a long, frustrating journey through the criminal justice system followed.
 
That Christmas, my Opa, who was my entire world, had a massive heart attack on Christmas Eve. I spent the holiday in the hospital holding him until he died.
 
The next few years became a mission to heal, understand what had happened to me, and get my life back.
 
I went all in. I became an ICF-recognized trauma-informed coach, completed a Certificate in Psychology at Toronto Metropolitan University, and wrote a thesis on institutional betrayal that my professor was working to get published. I returned to stand-up comedy (although the crowds were a little more woke than when I was doing it in the 2010s). I continued competing in Olympic weightlifting, earning provincial rankings four times and competing nationally. I completed a DBT program through CAMH and invested heavily in my own therapy.
I was doing the work. And yet, I still felt like I was floating a little. 
 
Then, in May 2026, my best friend died by suicide. It was her birthday. I'd been messaging her since 6:45 that morning, wondering why I wasn't hearing back. By the afternoon, I finally called her husband and learned what had happened.
 
I can't adequately describe the guttural reaction I had. I'd never felt anything like it in my life. She was like a sister. She fought for me, stood up for me, and showed up for me in ways I'll never forget. All I wanted was my best friend back.
 
It turned into the strangest summer of my life. I was meditating every day, doing yoga, lifting weights, and trying to do all the things I knew were supposed to help. And I still felt lost and confused.

I kept coming back to the same question: How the fuck does this keep happening?
 
I couldn't be the only person who has a good career, the best kitty, an apartment I'd carefully curated into the coziest girl home imaginable, and nieces I wanted to be a good role model for, yet still found herself trying to dig through the shit.
 
I have amazing friends, and I know how fortunate I am. But I started thinking about what I wished existed: something that brought together the things I'd found helpful and the things I'd been missing. Something beyond sitting in a therapy room and trying to figure it all out on my own.
That's where Lets Heal You began.
 
I wanted to create something that gets you out of your own head and back into your life. Not another list of things you're supposed to do to become the best version of yourself, and not a space where healing becomes your entire personality.
 
My approach brings together physical activity, mindfulness, social experiences, and accountability. Think strength training, yoga, hiking, meditation, live music, comedy shows, trying new things, and having people who actually check in on you. Some structure to help you follow through on the things you say you want to do, with enough room to figure out what works for you along the way.
 
Healing isn't just about processing what happened to you. It's also about figuring out who you are now, what you enjoy, what makes you laugh, what you're curious about, and what kind of life you want to build.
 
I'm not going to pretend I've mastered any of this. I've had my share of spectacularly bad days, questionable decisions, and moments when the only thing on my agenda was getting through the day.
 
Have I gotten blackout drunk and woken up needing to visit the optometrist to fix my glasses? Yes. Have I texted my landlord a picture of a bike lying gently on the ground with a frantic message about how something was wrong, only to send a follow-up apology when I realized I'd lost the plot a little? Also yes.
I've spent weeks in bed reading Eve Babitz and Joan Didion, ordered an embarrassing amount of DoorDash because cooking felt impossible, and watched enough Vanderpump Rules and Law & Order: SVU to qualify as professional research into my own depression.
 
I'm not here to tell you how to live, and I'm definitely not going to preach about gratitude or tell you to go for a walk when what you really want to do is tell someone to fuck off.
 
I'm here to share what I've learned, create opportunities to try new things, and bring women together who want to show up for themselves and each other.
 
I'm not a therapist, and this isn't a replacement for professional mental health care. Through workshops, activities, and client-led coaching, I want to help women identify what matters to them, set meaningful goals, and find practical ways to move forward.
 
You don't need to have everything figured out to get started. You just need a place to start, a willingness to show up, and maybe a few women who are willing to come along for the ride.
 
A support system for people who are sick of working on themselves.