Strength on your terms.

Most gyms ask you to push through. This training asks what your body is ready for — and builds from there.

I'm certified in trauma-informed weightlifting through the Center for Trauma & Embodiment, and I've been the client who needed it. After my gymnastics career ended, the hard years that followed — depression, anxiety, PTSD, eating disorders — taught me exactly what a training space can get wrong, and what it feels like when one finally gets it right.

What trauma-informed means in a session

It's not a vibe or a buzzword. It's a set of commitments you can hold me to:

You control the pace. We move when you're ready, not when a timer says so. Any exercise can be modified, swapped, or skipped — no explanation required.

You control the language and the space. No surprise touch, ever — hands-on coaching only happens with your consent, asked every time. No body commentary. No "no excuses" culture.

Your nervous system is part of the program. I program for it as deliberately as I program for your muscles: how a session opens, how it closes, and how much intensity your week can actually absorb.

Who this is for

Survivors. Women in eating-disorder recovery. Anyone carrying something heavier than the bell. And anyone who has tried gyms before and left feeling worse — not because they failed, but because the room wasn't built for them.

One honest boundary: this is strength coaching, not therapy. I don't diagnose and I don't treat. If you're working with a therapist or a treatment team, I'm glad to coach alongside them — many of my clients do exactly that.

What the training actually is

The same real coaching every RIPT client gets: a movement assessment, individualized programming, and a genuine kettlebell skill progression — deadlift and hinge first, then swings, get-ups, presses, and beyond, each at the pace your body sets. Strength here is reclamation, not punishment. You leave each session stronger and more yourself than you walked in.