The backstory

When I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 2002 with a master’s degree in occupational therapy, I figured I’d spend my life using my creativity, sense of humor, and natural curiosity to help people live vibrant, meaningful lives.

Twelve years and two maternity leaves into my OT career, burnt out by the traditional healthcare system, I decided to pursue my secret, embarrassing dream of becoming a writer.What I lacked in formal journalism training, I made up for in grit. Despite being picked last for every team as a kid, as an adult I embraced endurance sports—and if six marathons and two Ironman triathlons taught me anything, it was the power of imperfect, consistent action.

By 2018, I’d gone from writing for obscure parenting blogs to becoming a regular contributor to The Washington Post’s Wellness section, where my stories on everything from the benefits of squats to ditching diet talk at the Thanksgiving table consistently ranked among the section’s most-read pieces. My knack for breaking down complex concepts, along with more than two decades of group fitness instruction, opened doors to write for top-tier outlets, including TIME, Runner’s World, and The Guardian, as well as brands like Peloton and Blue Cross North Carolina.

Meanwhile, I was also reckoning with my own relationship to food, exercise, and self-worth. When I discovered intuitive eating in 2018, I released mental and emotional weight I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. It shifted not only how I treated my body, but how I approached creativity, connection, self-trust. I believe tuning into my body’s wisdom set the stage for my next endeavor (pun intended).

In 2023, I took a stand-up comedy class—a decision that felt both whimsical and inevitable. For years, I’d been writing about intuitive eating as a gateway to intuitive living, so I followed my own advice and listened to the part of me that, for years, kept whispering, “What if you tried standup?”

Comedy reconnected me to joy, presence, and the power of creative risk. Around the same time—post 10/7—I felt a deep pull toward my Judaism and a need to create spaces where Jewish women could show up creatively, spiritually, and unapologetically as their whole selves. I realized I could focus on my outrage and grief about the darkness, or I could be a source of light.

So that’s what I’m doing now: writing, performing, and building creative community for Jewish women. Today I host a twice-monthly open mic, perform stand-up, write Real Nourished, and lead a Jewish women’s Artist’s Way group. These are the spaces where my love of storytelling, connection, and courage converge.