I translate the erotic.
Which means I sit with people in the places they have never let anyone go, and I help them understand what they find there.
Not to diagnose it. Not to fix it. Not to hand them a framework and send them home with homework.
Understand it. On its own terms. In its own language. To have a relationship with that part of themselves.
Without the shame that was never theirs to carry in the first place.
This is my work. It has always been my work, in one form or another — long before I had the credentials to name it, long before I understood what I was actually doing when I sat across from someone and listened for what was underneath the words. I have been a translator my whole life. Of language, of bodies, of the things people feel but cannot say. The erotic is simply the territory where that gift matters most.
I did not arrive here in a straight line. Through all of it, I was learning the language.
What I Actually do
When someone comes to me, they usually arrive with what they think is the problem.
A relationship to porn that has gotten complicated. A sex life that looks fine from the outside and feels like a quiet failure from the inside. A fantasy they have carried for years and never told anyone. A shame so old and so familiar they have stopped questioning whether it belongs to them. A desire that will not quiet down no matter how many times it has been pushed away.
I do not treat any of these as the problem.
I treat them as messages.
The erotic speaks in images. In fantasy, in body sensation, in the pattern that keeps repeating, in the desire that surfaces at inconvenient moments and refuses to be managed away. This is how psyche communicates — not in the tidy language of the outer world, not in logic or social convention, but in the living interior language of image and feeling and symbol.
Most people were never taught to read that language. They were handed a cultural story about what is normal and what is shameful and what is allowed — shaped by religion, by history, by a media landscape that profits from shame — and they absorbed it without question, because no one offered them anything else.
My job is to offer them something else.
I gather the images they bring. I listen for the phrase they say almost by accident that contains both the problem and the answer. And then I translate — not by telling them what their erotic self means, but by helping them hear what it has been trying to say all along.
This is not therapy. It is not coaching in the conventional sense. It is erotic education and depth psychological excavation, delivered in a container of complete discretion, by someone who understands both the nature of the erotic and the nature of the person sitting across from her.
The credentials—and what they actually mean.
I hold a PhD in depth psychology. My dissertation focused specifically on erotic desire — the intersection of the unconscious, the imaginal, and the erotic self. It is, to my knowledge, a rare combination in this field, and it means that everything I do is grounded in the most rigorous psychological framework available for understanding what the erotic actually is and how it actually operates.
I am a dual certified sexologist and sex and relationship coach through the Sexual Health Alliance. I have additional training in men's sexual health and in what is commonly called problematic sexual behavior — which I prefer to call erotic suffering, because the pathologizing language is part of the problem.
I am a certified Pilates instructor with a decade of embodied practice. I am a certified health coach through the Institute for Integrative Nutrition specialing in women’s health. My first degree was in communication sciences and disorders— helping people find language for what they could not yet express. I hold a Master's degree in interdisciplinary studies, including systems theory and complex socio-cultural issues. I minored in a foreign language. I have studied the body from the inside out.
None of these things are incidental. Every single one is a thread of the same larger pattern — someone who has always been moving between worlds, building bridges between what is felt and what can finally be said.
But here is what the credentials do not capture, and what matters most:
I have walked the terrain I work in. I know what it is to have the erotic break open a truth you have been circling for years without being able to act on it. I know what it is to rebuild a life — a body, an identity, a relationship — from the inside out, following the thread of what your own erotic self is asking for rather than what you have been told you should want.
That knowing is in my hands when I work. It is the authority that no degree can confer and no certification can replicate.
HOw I work
What I believe
the erotic is not your problem.
I believe that most of what people experience as sexual shame is not pathology. It is the predictable result of never having been given accurate information about how the erotic actually functions. Cultural programming fills that gap with misinformation — shaped by centuries of religious doctrine, economic interest, and the particular Puritan inheritance of American culture — and people suffer from it accordingly, and needlessly.
We do not call people sleep addicts because they need to sleep every night. We do not call people hug addicts because they crave human touch. And yet we pathologise sexual desire as though it is inherently dangerous, as though wanting it makes you broken, as though the intensity of your erotic life is evidence of a problem rather than evidence of aliveness.
This makes me quietly, steadily furious. Because the suffering is preventable. Because with the right information, the right container, and the right translation, the thing people have been most ashamed of becomes the thing that leads them home to themselves.
That is what I am here for.
I also believe that the erotic is not the same as sex. You can have an erotic life entirely alone. The erotic is a way of being in the world — embodied, alive, oriented toward potential and connection. It is what gets drained when people spend years performing for the outer world and stop listening to the inner one. Awakening it is not about technique. It is about learning a different way of relating to yourself.
And I believe — because I have lived it — that the erotic, when finally understood and integrated, does not just change your intimate life. It changes everything. The clarity it brings, the integrity it restores, the aliveness it returns to a body that had gone quiet — these are not bedroom experiences. They are life experiences. They ripple outward into everything.
A little bit more about me
I am based in Asheville, North Carolina, and I work with clients remotely via Zoom.
I am a mother. A wife — in a second marriage built on a spiritual partnership. I am someone who came through a long marriage, a divorce, and a reckoning with my own erotic self that changed everything about how I understand this work.
I am a musician. A gardener. A reader of Jung and Nancy Friday and Audre Lorde and anyone who has been willing to say the true thing about desire without flinching. I am someone who loves to travel and minored in Mandarin when I was 22. Someone who once wrote notes to friends in the international phonetic alphabet (IPA) because I am both a nerd and it fascinated me that there was a way to communicate every spoken human language on the planet — coincidently, so is the erotic. It is human, it is a universal language.
I am a polymath — not because I have accumulated credentials across multiple fields, but because all of those fields are expressions of the same underlying thing. The same curiosity. The same conviction that what lives in the interior of a person is worth taking seriously. The same belief that the gap between what we feel and what we are able to say is a gap worth closing.
That is what I do. I close the gap.
I am currently at work on a book — a primer on the nature of the erotic for everyone who has ever wondered why the approaches they have tried have not held, who has sensed that there is a different framework available, one that actually matches the complexity and the intelligence of what they are experiencing. The book will be the foundation of this work. The sessions are the personalized translation.
I did not choose this work. It chose me. And I have spent my whole life, without knowing it, becoming exactly the right person to do it.
Three ways to work together
A singular 90-minute coaching session for the person with one specific thing they have never said out loud. You bring it. I translate. Complete in itself, or the beginning of something more.
Three months, one on one, for the man or woman ready to go into the full territory. The whole erotic excavation, built entirely around you.
Six months, for the high-achieving couple whose outer life is extraordinary and whose inner erotic life has quietly gone cold. The work of finding your way back to each other.
The erotic has its own language.
You were never broken.
You were simply never taught to read it.
I can teach you.