I’ve always believed that the lessons we learn in sport are some of the most profound we carry through life. For me, swimming was where it all began—a sport that taught me discipline, focus, and the beauty of mastering a rhythm. But it wasn’t long before I found myself on the softball field and basketball court, where I truly discovered the power of teamwork, resilience, and leadership.

As a collegiate and professional athlete, I experienced the highs of championships and the lows of setbacks. Those moments, whether exhilarating or challenging, taught me how to perform under pressure, find flow in the chaos, and lead with authenticity. They shaped me into the person I am today: a woman who knows the grit it takes to succeed and the courage it takes to grow.

But my story doesn’t end there. In fact, it took a surprising turn when I stepped away from softball and coaching, leaving behind the identity I’d built for so many years. For a time, I felt lost, grappling with the question: “Who am I without the game?” It was through this period of rediscovery—and my journey into mental health and trauma work—that I found the answer.

During grad school, I not only learned the technical skills to help others but also began my own healing journey. I experienced Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) as a client, and it was nothing short of transformative. It helped me shed the weight of unresolved trauma, rediscover my sense of self, and embrace the freedom that comes from healing. That experience lit a fire in me to help others find the same.

Today, as a licensed professional counselor, mental performance coach, and founder of Flow Leadership LLC, I help athletes, high performers, and individuals in transition navigate the unique challenges of their journeys. My work is about more than addressing performance anxiety or managing stress—it’s about empowering people to thrive in the spaces between competition, identity, and personal growth.

In this photo, August 7th, 2021, I’m in the bullpen the day before I fly to Europe—ten years older than the last time I competed, throwing pitch after pitch with pure joy. After a decade away from the game, I had just two weeks' notice to accept an offer to compete for an Italian championship. I said yes, and spent those two weeks in this cage, throwing to a net by myself—not to prove anything to anyone else, but to challenge myself.

As I write this now, it feels like a full-circle moment—remembering being alone in my local recenter, throwing a ball against a gym wall as a little girl in Iowa, with no clue where I would end up. That experience pushed me beyond what I thought I could handle: new country, new language, new teammates. But it also gave me clarity—softball didn’t define who I was; I defined it. Competing again taught me how to channel that into my work as a therapist, empowering others to face their own challenges.

The scent of leather and clay filled the air as I laced up my cleats, grounding me in a moment that felt both like a return and a new beginning. A bucket of balls sat at my feet, the net ahead waiting. I wasn’t just throwing softballs—I was rediscovering myself, one pitch at a time.

By the end of the summer, I had two Italian championships and a heart full of clarity. It wasn’t the game that made me who I was—it was me. The cleats, the uniform, the competition—they were tools, not definitions. Returning to the field reignited my passion and joy in a way I could carry into my work as a therapist. Stepping into the arena—no matter the outcome—is always worth it.