Hi! I'm Julia
Hi! Thank you for being here. I am so grateful to your very self for bringing you to this moment, and I hope you take a moment to be proud of yourself. While so many talk about how scary the outside world is, I know personally how much more terrifying our own inside ones can feel. I know what it is like to feel as though you are drowning within your very being. To feel as though you are screaming out and nobody seems to hear. To feel as though you are floating above your life, watching it unfold, sad to be missing out but too afraid to feel what it means to be fully present. And I also know what it is like to heal. To feel as though every cell in your body has finally exhaled and the birds are chirping and you remember how beautiful it is to simply be. This is what I am here to help you with: coming home to yourself, coming home to the part of you that is so eager to be alive, to heal, to feel all of the emotions, and breathe in the fresh air. Coming home to the part of you that brought you to this page today, that knows you are strong enough to heal, brave enough to face the process, and deserving of every ounce of life.
My focus areas:
Illness: as someone who lives with a chronic illness, I understand deeply how all-consuming it can feel to our selfhoods. It can feel impossible to even think about the stressors of life when the simple act of living in our own skin is painful and uncomfortable. But I also know how profoundly our bodies need our help in healing. We cannot fight our own body and expect it to fight an illness. Joining our bodies and selves in the process of healing is where the true, whole-being change happens. Trauma and Dissociation: our bodies are eager to find safety after experiencing pain, and that often leads to dissociation. So many of us are living only half alive because we feel we must numb ourselves to the pain. Yet when we do this, we are also numbing ourselves to the joy, the beauty, and the mere hope of healing. Trauma is a lonely, terrifying place. It feels as though we are drowning and no one seems to notice. But I see you. I hear you. And we can come home to ourselves slowly, safely, and joyfully.
Disordered Eating: in a world that feels so overwhelming, we often find ourselves gripping to something to feel a semblance of control. For many of us, this is food. And for many of us, we are so fearful of letting go, of surrendering control, that we latch on even tighter and tighter until the rest of the world has slipped away. It feels isolating, shameful, and terrifying. But I promise you you are not lost, there is a way back home to wholeness, and it is possible.
Goal / Approach
I believe creating a space of warmth and safety is the most important. As a highly sensitive person, I create an energy of light and comfort with my clients to allow them to exhale and begin the slow process of unfolding.
I am a certified Integrative Nutrition Health Coach and am currently completing my Master's Degree in Psychology & Neuroscience, and have just completed my Master's of Science in Applied Clinical Nutrition. I have worked in a range of settings helping people heal, including my college campus Sexual Assault center, the Syracuse Rescue Mission, Vera House, and eating disorders. Most importantly, I have personal experience in both the trauma and healing of many experiences.
BS in Cellular Neuroscience; Colgate University
Integrative Nutrition Health Coach; Institute for Integrative Nutrition
Master's Candidate in Psychology & Neuroscience; Kings' College Institute of Psychiatry
Master of Science in Applied Clinical Nutrition; Northeast College of Health Science
I was always a highly sensitive child, believing the world was a scary, unsafe place and feeling constantly overwhelmed and on edge. As I got older, I was taught to ignore this sensitive nature for the comfort of others, being taught to people please and ignore my own needs. When I was a freshman in high school, I had a traumatic brain injury that required me to go into cocoon therapy and treatment for several years. The physical and emotional pain of the injury, taking me away from my personal identity as an athlete and into the solitude of my own pain, made me slowly slip out of my own body as a coping mechanism. Shortly after, I experienced a personal assault, making the shift into the clouds and out of reality all the more required. I had learned how to silence, numb, and ignore the screams of my body and mind and instead float, half dead, above my life. I lived this way for several years, not knowing. It was not until years later, at age 20, when I was hospitalized and bedridden with several life-threatening and chronic illnesses that I was forced to return to my body. In the following five years of medical treatments, lifestyle changes, and entire world changing, that I returned home to myself. That I realized my sensitivity was a super power, not something to be dimmed. That I learned my body had been asking for help all along and I was too separated from it to hear.