Where your heart can rest for a moment.

If you’ve found your way here, you’re probably carrying something heavy — a loss, a heartbreak, a life transition that cracked something open inside you. Maybe you’re still in the thick of it, or maybe you’ve been holding it together for so long you’ve forgotten how tired you are.

Either way… you’re not alone.
And I’m glad you’re here.

My name is Toni, and I guide sensitive souls through the tender landscape of grief with gentle rituals, intuitive grounding, and the kind of steady presence I once needed myself.

My story begins the way many sensitive people’s do.

I grew up with a strong intuitive sense — seeing things, feeling things, knowing things before I could explain them — but I learned early that it wasn’t safe to speak about it. My parents were loving but agnostic, and anything spiritual or unseen was quickly dismissed.
So I tucked my intuition away.

Like many of us do.

But intuition has a way of resurfacing when we need it most.

Years later, when my daughter was young, I had a moment — one of those split-second, soul-level nudges — that told me to jaywalk across the street instead of taking the crosswalk. I listened, even though it made no logical sense. A car ran the red light seconds later.

That moment changed everything.
It reminded me that the quiet voice inside me wasn’t something to suppress — it was something to trust. Something to follow. Something to use.

Grief brought me even deeper into this work.

Losing my mother — and the complicated relationship wrapped around her health, her weight, the guilt I carried, and the things left unsaid — opened a wound that took decades to understand. It wasn’t one moment of grief; it was many. Layers of anticipatory grief… emotional grief… and the grief of being blamed for things no child should ever be blamed for.

Later, my relationship with my adult son brought forward new layers: the grief of distance, the grief of watching someone you love step into a life you’re not fully part of anymore, the grief of wanting to protect him but needing to let go.

These experiences didn’t break me.
They revealed me.

They showed me how sensitive souls grieve differently — more quietly, more deeply, more somatically. They taught me that we don’t “bounce back.” We soften. We reshape. We learn to breathe again.

And eventually… we offer our hand to someone else in the dark.