I was born to two musician parents: a Japanese immigrant, singer songwriter mother, and an American keyboardist father. In hindsight, growing up in the world of Japanese anime culture, and the recording industry here in the States, was a strange and rose-colored childhood.

As a kid, I didn’t have the sense of safety I needed to speak authentically, from the heart. The violin became my voice in adolescence, giving me the confidence to express myself and my emotions, but there was a shadow side in that performance became my only way of feeling good and validated. Life and happiness were hinging on my abilities to perform for others and be “great.”

Working with amazing artists and labels, and appearing on programs like Tiny Desk, brought so much joy and creative partnership into my life. Still, I craved a personal sense of fulfillment that I couldn’t put into words, and I felt my vitality hitting a ceiling. I started to realize just how many untapped wounds in my life there were, and how much fear there was in looking at those feelings.

In healing, I learned to better understand my thoughts, feelings, and creative spirit, working through childhood traumas, family roles, and cultural expectations. I was able to rediscover my love for creating when I better understood the map and the path that I exist on. From there, I cultivated my ability to support others as a therapist.