I bring both sides of this: I've lived the burnout, anxiety, and exhaustion I talk about, and I've spent years studying and working in it professionally. What I offer is a steady, no-judgment space where you can show up exactly as you are — guarded included. Most of us start there. What I hope to gain is connection. Peer support runs both ways. I learn something every time I sit with this community, and it reminds me — on my own hard days too — that none of us is as alone as it can feel.

I spent more than 23 years in 911 emergency communications — a dispatcher, trainer, and supervisor, the calm voice on the other end of people's worst moments. I learned exactly what it does to a body to absorb crisis after crisis and then be expected to clock out, drive home, and just power down like nothing happened. My body never got that memo. For years I lived with the fallout, and I want to be honest about what that actually looked like: anxiety that hummed under everything, panic attacks that came out of nowhere, nights I couldn't sleep no matter how exhausted I was, reaching for whatever food was fast instead of what would actually help me, and a stubborn guilt every single time I tried to put myself first. What I learned — slowly, and not on my own — is that all of it is workable. I learned how to steady the panic, how to actually rest, how to make different choices, and how to care for myself without apologizing for it. I'm Lucinda, a Certified Peer Support Specialist and a graduate student in clinical mental health counseling with a specialty in trauma. Today I work in a behavioral health hospital, where I facilitate groups and walk alongside people through some of the hardest stretches of their lives. But the part of me that connects most isn't the training — it's that I've stood right where so many people are standing now, and I found my way back out. I'd like to help you find yours.