Founder Story

I didn’t set out to create this.

And I didn’t find healing by searching for it.

I was led to it—through a lifetime of experiences that, only in hindsight, make sense.

I spent my first 14 years of life growing up in the San Jacinto Mountains, in a remote, rugged environment where life required resilience from a very young age.

We lived simply—heating our home with a wood-burning stove, relying on well water, and adapting to whatever the land required. If pipes froze, we had no water. If propane ran out, we found another way.

From as early as I can remember, I was working with animals—horses, donkeys, goats, sheep, pigs, chickens, dogs, and cats.

Not occasionally. Daily.

I hauled rock, moved manure, helped maintain land, and learned to take responsibility for life around me. It was a physically demanding and, at times, deeply challenging upbringing.

But even then, I remember sitting alone as a child, looking out at the land, and feeling that there had to be something more—that there was a bigger reason for all of it.

I just didn’t know what.

Years later, at the end of 2020, I had planned to leave my job and travel through Europe, working hands-on with farms, animals, and communities—returning, in a way, to that kind of life.

When the world shut down, those plans fell through.

So I pivoted.

I chose to go to Playa del Carmen—a place I had never been, but felt deeply drawn to. I remember telling my son, “What if I love it and want to move there?” And without hesitation, he said, “Sure—I’d join you if that happens.”

But before that journey could begin, everything changed.

Shortly after arriving in Mexico, I received a call that my son was in the hospital from an accident. I returned immediately and was able to be with him before he passed.

After that, I couldn’t stay where I was. I let go of my home, gave away most of what I owned, and began moving—without a plan, without direction.

I was numb.

I didn’t feel anything. I was just going through the motions, taking one step at a time.

But even in that state, something was guiding me.

I found myself in Philadelphia, working with horses again—mucking stalls, feeding, brushing, and helping care for over 20 horses, five days a week. I walked dogs, spent time in nature, often barefoot, and slowly, without realizing it, something began to shift.

I wasn’t searching for healing.

But healing had already begun.

I later went to Hawaii, but even in its beauty, something didn’t feel complete. I felt a strong pull—one I couldn’t ignore—to continue on to Playa del Carmen.

When I finally arrived, I chose a simple place to stay—one with dogs, a hammock as a couch in a small airbnb, and a quiet, jungle-like courtyard. Each morning, I would sit with the dogs, not doing anything, just being.

I spent time by the ocean, especially at Punta Esmeralda, where the meeting of freshwater and sea felt grounding in a way I couldn’t explain.

And slowly…I started to feel again.

Through conversations and experiences, I learned about the land—about cenotes, underground rivers, and the connection between energy, water, and intention. That awareness became a turning point.

From there, more experiences began to unfold—breathwork, meditation, movement, community, sound healing, and plant medicine—each one meeting me where I was, helping me reconnect in different ways.

None of it was forced.

It was all guided.

And then I saw it clearly:

The very things that were helping me heal—animals, nature, physical work, and connection—were the same elements that had been part of my early life.

What once felt difficult…
had quietly prepared me.

And what I needed most wasn’t one path.

It was the freedom to find my own.

That realization became the foundation for The Way Through.

A space where healing isn’t prescribed—but experienced.

Where people are given access to different modalities—animals, nature, movement, water, sound, ceremony, and community—and are supported in discovering what works for them.

Because no two paths are the same.

Today, I live in Playa del Carmen, a place that feels like home. A place that called me before I understood why—and a place that continues to hold deep meaning for me.

The Way Through is not something I created from an idea.

It’s something I was led to—
through experience, through loss, and through learning to live again.

And now, it’s something I’m here to share.