For The Love Of Grace

I’m a dancer, a traveler, a truth-teller. I believe in passport stamps, slow mornings, deep laughter, and the kind of joy that brings you back to yourself. And I believe midlife isn’t the beginning of the end—it’s the boldest, most beautiful rebirth you’ll ever choose. As a little girl, I was wild and free. I chased sunlight, rode my bike fast, and disappeared into the magic of creeks and trees. I was radiant—until I was told I was too much. Like so many women, I learned to shrink to fit. My mother’s love felt earned, never given. Praise was scarce. Perfection was expected. So I twisted myself into who I thought she wanted—high achiever, people-pleaser, always performing—hoping for a scrap of approval. But even as I played that part, there was always a spark. Home wasn’t a sanctuary. My mom, a hoarder and a perfectionist, filled the house with things she couldn’t let go of. Walking through the front door felt like being swallowed—tight chest, shallow breath, nowhere to land. I craved calm, order, and beauty. That need led me to become a professional organizer—helping other women clear space not just in their homes, but in their lives. My father, an alcoholic, was either emotionally absent or suddenly explosive. He could disappear for days and then return in long, unpredictable binges—pacing outside our bedroom doors, talking to ghosts and keeping us awake. Even when he was sober, I stayed on high alert. I read the air. Watched for danger. Tried not to be the reason it ignited. There were no boundaries. No safety. No softness. So I learned to survive. I became the girl who smoothed it over, earned gold stars, stayed out of the way, and tried to stay perfect enough to be loved. But beneath all that coping, the fire inside me never went out. My mom used to call me her “wild child”—not with affection, but as a caution. I was rebellious, passionate, emotional. Boundaries weren’t taught, so mine came out as defiance. I dimmed my light for years. But deep down, my wildness waited. And eventually… it rose. That same fire is what led me here—to create House of Grace, a sanctuary for women who’ve spent their lives putting themselves last, twisting themselves to fit, and playing small just to stay safe. Women like you. Women like me. It took me years to unlearn what I was taught: That strength isn’t overfunctioning—it’s self-trust. That control isn’t power—it’s fear in disguise. That “normal” was actually me abandoning myself to survive. Even with a successful business, a byline in magazines, and a life that looked “fine” on the outside… I felt a whisper inside: There’s more. So I listened. And I built it. In my 40s, I began a personal revolution—one rooted in stillness, sensuality, honesty, and grace. I stopped waiting for permission. I began returning home to myself. Now, I guide women back to their truth. Through workshops, deep conversations, and inside House of Grace—my signature membership devoted to rising in mind, body, and soul. Whether I’m coaching, creating, or dancing under a foreign sky, my mission remains: To help women reclaim their voice, their worth, and their wild, untamed desires. Because this isn’t just about doing less or being more. It’s about becoming you again—on purpose. With love, Grace