I was born into spiritual exile.

My grandparents, Holocaust survivors, chose silence over faith after the war. My mother inherited that wound and erased our Jewish identity entirely by the time I arrived. On top of that, I didn't even know who my father was. Half of my existence was physically missing. The other half was present, but shrouded in silence, regret, and ancestral trauma. 

At seven, I was dropped into Catholic/Christian family life without context. My mother—whose untreated bipolar disorder made her both unpredictable and desperate for stability married a man whose family wrapped their cruelty in talk of Jesus and salvation—but no one could explain what any of it actually meant for living. I watched them pray on Sundays and by the time they were in their cars leaving Church, cursing each other out over a parking spot. I thought to myself: if this is what religion is, I want no part of it. 

At 16, I left home. At 18, I was trafficked. None of it made sense. Why did I deserve this? Why did no one love me?

Surviving lit a fierce determination in me: if there was a God, I needed to understand who that was—and why my life had been this hard.

I searched through churches and mosques, hungry for answers.  Eventually, I landed in Israel, where I felt a real sense of connection for the first time. That pull led me to live for many years as an Orthodox Jew in brooklyn, immersed in a world of structure, study, and belonging. This experience would be the foundation on which I began to elevate my understanding of the awe and wonder of what it meant to live with purpose and structure and Hashem.

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Years later, after my divorce at 32, both my grandparents had passed. I found myself alone with two small children and no other ties to my lineage—my mother and I had parted ways when I was 21 after she spent time in jail. Every anchor to an identity had been cut loose. 

In that void, I decided to search for my father—an El Salvadoran immigrant who didn't know I existed. Through Ancestry DNA, I found him. And at the same time, I uncovered my mothers own DNA secrets. Once again, my understanding of God expanded beyond every box I'd been given—but this time, the expansion didn't fracture me. It freed me.

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I spent years trying to make my mystical weird life fit conventional shapes. I worked corporate jobs, kept my spiritual practice private, thought I could compartmentalize. But after I burned out completely, my soul finally won the argument my mind had been having for decades.

 

When the corporate job disappeared, so did my last excuse. I didn't choose this path in a moment of clarity - I surrendered to it in a moment of collapse. And in that surrender, I found what I'd been seeking all along: permission to be exactly who I am, to serve exactly who I'm meant to serve, without apology or performance. It was terrifying to place myself on a public platform and expose my wounds that I tried to keep hidden. The abuse, the abandonment. What would people say? I chose to put myself out there in hopes that the right people would hear it, would know that they weren't alone. And that's when I stopped trying to fit the boxes and started building bridges between them instead. I realized: my 'exile' wasn't a curse. It was preparation.

 

To walk between worlds, you have to belong to none of them completely.​

Today, I live as a practical mystic: deeply rooted in Kabbalah and Torah, and also initiated into Santería, bridging Ifá, spiritism, astrology and Judaism. To me every avenue is a reflection of Hashem. A channel in which his light has come down.

 

I don't perform spiritual bypass. I don't judge. And I don't push my beliefs on another. I unite worlds—religions, lineages, ancestral wisdom—to find the common threads that actually guides us into embodied transformation.

Because of my complex background and lived experience across traditions, I walk alongside others navigating their own paths, especially women healing from trauma, spiritual confusion, and lives that don't fit conventional boxes.

It is my life's work to help others understand that the Infinite isn't up in the clouds, untouchable. It's buried deep within us. Through healing ourselves, we can access channels to the mystical that you only hear about in ancient texts.

It is my life's purpose to lead others to uncover that truth. And be the mirror to others on their journey so they can find their faith. Whatever path that may be for them.