I was born and raised in the farthest corner of Slovakia, a stone’s throw from the Hungarian and Ukrainian borders. I grew up between languages and cultures, and moved to Los Angeles in my mid-twenties with a master’s degree in economics and a strong desire to prove that I could make something of myself.

And I did make things.

I built and operated a multi-location yoga studio, co-founded a craft brewery, worked in hospitality and revenue management, and became very good at carrying responsibility. From the outside, I was capable, productive, and doing what I had set out to do.

My body was telling a more complicated story.

Alongside the businesses came motherhood, two home births, miscarriage, gestational diabetes, depression, addiction, strain in my marriage, and the relentless demands of raising small children while trying to keep everything moving.

I had practiced and taught yoga for years. But it took me much longer to understand the difference between using a practice to help myself keep going—and using it to genuinely listen.

That distinction changed everything.

I became less interested in overriding discomfort or chasing an ideal version of wellness, and more interested in what symptoms, patterns, and sensations might be communicating. My studies moved more deeply into yoga therapy, somatic and developmental movement, breathwork, parts work, and the ways our early experiences continue to shape the body, our relationships, and our sense of self.

This work grew from that meeting place: years of training and teaching, the practical experience of building a life, and the humbling discovery that insight is not the same as integration.

I haven’t figured it all out. I don’t expect to.

But I have learned how to listen differently—and how to help others begin listening to themselves.