For Most of My Life...
I didn’t know how to listen to my body.
To be honest, I didn’t even know what that meant.
I grew up sensitive, shy, and drawn to expression. Dance was my first love. Then theater stole my heart and became the place where I could explore emotion, imagination, and all the messiness of being human.
This is the language I have for it now, but back then, it was just a lot of fucking fun and the place I felt most alive. Which is still the case.
I’ve spent more than twenty years working as a professional actor. I love it more than anything. But somewhere along the way, acting became about more than creativity. I was also desperately looking to it for certainty, belonging, validation, and a sense of who I was.
Eventually, I became curious about what was happening underneath all of that—about the ways I had learned to look outside myself for answers, and what it might mean to listen inward instead.
That curiosity is part of what led me to embodiment.
My Story
When Something Shifted...
I struggled with depression and anxiety for much of my adult life. For years, I believed there was something fundamentally wrong with me, and medication was often the only tool available.
During the pandemic, when so much of life came to a stop, I had space for the first time to pay attention to what was happening inside me. I started asking questions I hadn’t ever really given myself permission to ask.
The questions led me toward embodiment, nervous system work, movement, and the study of trauma. I began learning about the ways our experiences live in the body, and discovering different ways of being and understanding my own.
Over time, that work changed more than my relationship with myself. It began changing the way I approached acting, creativity, and expression.
These Days...
Acting, embodiment, movement, and storytelling all feel like parts of the same coin.
Whether I’m on stage, making something of my own, or facilitating movement, I’m interested in what happens when we slow down enough to really notice what’s there—and what becomes possible when we give ourselves room and freedom to really play.
I’m still asking a lot of the same questions I always have: How do we become more fully ourselves? How do we stay connected to ourselves when things feel uncertain? And how do we bring more freedom, honesty, joy, and aliveness into the way we create and live?
I don’t have answers to all of these questions. I think I’m more interested in continuing to explore them.
