For most of my life, I didn't know I was ADHD or autistic. I just knew I felt different, like I was constantly working twice as hard as everyone else to keep up and still falling short.

In my late twenties, I was dealing with intense anxiety that was affecting every part of my life. Through therapy and medication, the anxiety subsided—and suddenly, symptoms I'd never noticed before became impossible to ignore. I was more forgetful, zoning out often, and it felt impossible to keep up with basic tasks. I asked my psychiatrist to test me for ADHD, and there it was. My anxiety had been masking my ADHD my entire life.

Getting diagnosed with ADHD helped me make sense of so much. But there was still something I couldn't put my finger on. About two years later, at 29, I started seeing social media posts about AuDHD (being both ADHD and autistic), and it felt deeply relatable.

I went down that rabbit hole, took assessments, discussed it with my therapist, and realized: I'm autistic too.

That discovery—understanding I'm AuDHD—contextualized everything for me. It explained the push and pull I'd always felt, the contradictions, the exhaustion from masking my whole life. And it deepened my commitment to this work: helping those who can't understand themselves and feel deep shame about not fitting in begin to understand how this world wasn't built for them, to release deeply-ingrained beliefs about your worth, and to begin building a life that finally makes sense for you.

I'm a first-generation Brazilian American who grew up in Miami, Florida. I speak both Spanish and Portuguese, and I was exposed to so many different cultures from South America growing up. That bicultural experience is something I carry with me in my work.

Many of my clients love that they can speak Spanglish with me. There's something powerful about not having to translate yourself, about being able to switch between languages mid-sentence because that's how your brain works. It's one less thing to code-switch, one less way you have to perform.

Further, I understand what it's like to navigate family expectations that don't leave room for who you actually are. To feel the weight of generational sacrifice. To be queer or neurodivergent in a family and culture where those things aren't talked about or accepted. To be the black sheep, the one who doesn't fit the mold.

That lived experience is why so many of my clients—especially Latine, first-generation, queer, and neurodivergent folks—feel deeply understood in our work together. Because I'm not just learning about these experiences from a textbook. I've lived them too.

My biggest hope is that you feel comfortable and safe with me. That you don't have to hide any part of yourself. That we can talk about literally anything. I want you to learn to feel safe communicating your wants, needs, and hurts—first with me, then with the people in your life. I want you to walk away knowing that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, that your feelings are valid, and that you're capable of making your life whatever you want as long as you put in the work to meet yourself where you are.

Therapy isn't about becoming someone else or "fixing" you—because you were never broken to begin with. It's about unlearning the things that taught you you weren't enough, processing the trauma you've been carrying, and finally building a sense of belonging and acceptance from within.

If I had someone who helped me understand myself sooner, maybe I wouldn't have spent so long believing I was the problem. That's what I want to give you: the understanding, support, and tools to finally come home to yourself.