What I would want
to know if I were you.
My story.
We lived in a tiny, remote town with no running water and very few resources. But they were determined—hardworking, hopeful, and absolutely set on figuring it out. And for a while, they did; but eventually, they got stuck.
They had the plan and the vision, but when it came time to pour the foundation, the only cement truck in town was too heavy to make it across the bridge. Suddenly, all that effort, all that determination, wasn’t enough. So they did something most people struggle to do.
They asked for help.
Twenty-five people showed up. Neighbors. Friends. Folks who had no obligation other than kindness. Each one brought a small, personal cement mixer, a tool that could easily make it across the bridge. And together, they poured a foundation strong enough that the house still stands today.
That story is more than a childhood memory. It’s a picture of what I’ve come to believe about life—and especially about relationships:
We can’t build something lasting on our own. We need the right help. We need the right tools. We need to be willing to say: “I’m stuck.”
I’ve been stuck in relationships, too.
There was a time in my own marriage when I realized: all the communication skills in the world weren’t helping us connect. I could stay calm, ask thoughtful questions, regulate my tone, and still feel miles away from the person sitting right next to me.
That kind of disconnection is disorienting, especially when you “know better.” And for someone like me (who had built a career around insight, strategy, and helping other people find their way) it was humbling.
I didn’t need more knowledge.
I needed a new foundation.
That shift didn’t just change my personal life; it reshaped my professional one, too.
I’ve spent decades working in high-stakes, high-impact spaces (law, public policy, leadership development, organizational strategy). I’ve coached executives, shaped statewide initiatives, and supported leaders from Oregon to Ghana. My work has always centered around growth, communication, and systems. But beneath every success and struggle, one theme kept surfacing: relational pain. Disconnection. Misunderstanding. Patterns no one knew how to name.
So when I turned my full attention to helping people strengthen their relationships, I didn’t do it casually. I studied, questioned, and tested. I looked at everything through the lens of someone who has walked through complexity both personally and professionally.
As someone raised in an interracial family in a small town, I know what it means to feel watched. As a parent in a blended family, I understand how layered love can be. And as someone in a long-term marriage, I know that partnership isn’t about perfection; it’s about growing, repairing, and returning to each other again and again.
Context matters.
So do skills.
So does support.
Eventually, I found one approach that holds all three. I’ll tell you more about it below, but here’s what you need to know now: it’s honest, it’s actionable, and it works—not just in theory, but in my actual, everyday life.
I use it in my own marriage, in hard conversations, and when I mess up. I share it with others now, too, those who are ready to stop pretending, stop spinning, and start building something stronger.
If that’s you, I’d be honored to walk with you.
My approach.
Relational Life Therapy (RLT) is a direct, practical, and deeply compassionate approach to relationship change. Unlike traditional therapy, which often takes a neutral or slow-paced route, RLT gets right to the heart of what’s not working—naming patterns that harm connection and teaching the skills to shift them. It’s rooted in neuroscience and focused on action, so clients often feel relief and movement early in the process, sometimes, even in the first session. Here’s what RLT means for you:
RLT takes sides.
In RLT, we take the side of what’s
most relational. That means we compassionately—but directly—call
out the patterns that are keeping you stuck and help you practice new ways of connecting.
It teaches.
Insight alone doesn’t create connection. You’ll learn real tools—like how to speak with clarity and warmth, how to repair after conflict, and how to stop doing the thing you promised yourself you’d stop doing.
It works—fast.
The habits that keep you stuck were wired into your brain through repetition—but that wiring isn’t fixed. You can unlearn what’s not working, build new neural pathways, and create patterns of connection that last.
What does it mean to be RLT certified?
Is this for couples or individuals—or both?
What kind of results can I expect?
I invite you to explore how RLT applies to your circumstances
My promises to you.
In private sessions or as part of a couple’s boot camp, you can expect us to:
I’ll be honest—with care.
If something’s keeping you stuck, I’ll name it—with clarity, kindness, and zero judgment. Even the hard truths can be handled with respect.
I’ll stay in it with you.
You won’t find me sitting back saying “hmm.” I’ll be right there with you—coaching, guiding, and helping you stay focused on what matters most. Clients often say I make the hard work feel surprisingly doable.
I’ll make space for the full picture.
Your relationship doesn’t exist in a vacuum. We’ll consider the broader systems—family, culture, community—that shape how you connect and where you get stuck.
I’ll keep things practical.
You’ll leave every session with something useful. Insight is important, but lasting change comes from what you practice—not just what you understand.
I’ll only teach what I live.
These aren’t just ideas—I use these skills every day in my own marriage, family, and life. I won’t ask you to try anything I haven’t worked through myself.
I’ll hold on to hope, even when it’s hard.
I’ve seen the difference this work can make—not just in how people communicate but in how they feel about themselves and each other. Change takes effort, but it’s a gift to you, your relationship, and the generations that follow.