your grief moves. you’re more whole.
shame loses its grip.
self-compassion sets into your bones.
you discover unconditional belonging.
without fixing yourself · without performing healed · without doing it alone
you don’t need to get better at being human.
you need a space where you can remember
all that you know in your bones.
grief tending · radical tenderness · unshaming · restoring belonging
the fire’s already lit.
tender ones, tired ones: i’m glad you found your way.
maybe you’ve done a lot of “work” on yourself already. you feel things deeply can name most of what’s happening. you’re thoughtful, reflective, maybe in the helping fields yourself. and you still feel something quietly unsatisfied. you hold grief instead of feeling it move, like it has nowhere to go. there are tender places still waiting for contact, or a name.
that’s where i meet you in our sessions.
not because anything is wrong with you.
because you were never meant to do this alone.
here we banish shame & restore belonging.
this isn’t therapy. it isn’t coaching. it isn’t another modality that teaches you to manage yourself more skillfully.
it’s something older than that. THE WITCH WAS THE ORIGINAL HEALER. not circumscribed by diagnoses or self-improvement plans. she sat beside what hurt. she asked what grief needed. she let tenderness be tenderness, not a symptom.
i’ve looked to my cuban lineage for clues to what came before me. that narrative memory my family has lost but that i still feel deep in my bones: a deep, rich history of being witches (brujas). it was an honor, not an aberration. it was never meant to be what western psychology has become.
compassion, at its root, means TO FEEL WITH, TO SUFFER WITH. not to observe from a safe professional distance. not to assess and treat. but to enter the same field. and stay.
maybe you already understand yourself.
and still, something in you is suffering.
you might have become very familiar with the sources of your grief, your triggers, your patterns.
you might have a rich language for your wounds.
and still…
you carry your grief alone, because there’s nowhere that feels safe enough to put it
you long for tenderness, but some part of you braces before it can arrive
you know you’re reacting “too much” but can’t stop once you’re in it
you’ve been performing “okay” for so long you’ve forgotten what not-performing feels like
you want to soften, but softening feels dangerous
you’re tired. not of life, but of doing it without a village.
here’s what moves me: most of us have been trying to earn our welcome our whole lives. earning the right to take up space. earning the right to have needs (and ask for help meeting them). earning the right to be loved without conditions.
but belonging was never something you were supposed to earn. it’s what you came here expecting to find. it’s your birthright. and what we’re doing here is restoring it. not your functioning. not your ability to cope or regulate your nervous system. your belonging.
testimonials
“jamie’s warm, nonjudgmental presence creates a deep sense of safety, the kind that lets you get close to long-buried feelings and spend time with them without being overwhelmed by fear. since my last session i’ve experienced a stronger connection to my authentic feelings, gotten in touch with some repressed memories, and felt the relief of being seen and heard.”
— b.h.
“there is a really rich balance in our sessions between research-based knowledge and a genuinely compassionate space of being human. i don’t feel like anything i say is going to be judged. but i also feel like there’s so much thought put into every exchange. i wasn’t sure i was going to find a space to work through a lot of the shame going on in my own self. but it really is starting to feel that way. where else do you get love and data?”
— j.c.
“jamie is more than a mentor or coach. she is a lighthouse who guides her clients to find clarity and truth in their pain. she didn’t give me instructions on how to survive my pain; she joined me right where i was, held my hand, and journeyed with me through the depth of my shadows. i have never felt that seen and accepted before.
— l.a.
what i bring to our sessions
i’m a certified compassionate inquiry practitioner and neuroaffective touch practitioner. i’m a trauma-informed, nonviolent parenting educator. i’ve studied focusing / felt-sensing, nonviolent communication, shame, grief ritual facilitation, support group and other group facilitation.
but i don’t separate these things anymore. they’ve braided themselves into a single, embodied practice. and what i bring to you isn’t a framework. it’s presence, infused with everything i’ve learned.
i’m a walking library. but my job isn’t to recite the library at you. my job is finding the missing pages. the parts of your story that haven’t found language yet, the needs that have been speaking through symptoms, the grief that’s been waiting for company.
i have a knack for sensing where shame has taken the place of belonging. for recognizing the exact spot in someone where connection got interrupted and something harder moved in instead. and i know how to bring people back to those places without adding more shame in the process.
i’ve been described as having a youthful and ancient energy at the same time. i don’t know about that, but what i do know is this: i am appalled at the lack of reverence for all things. including the tender, complicated, unresolved parts of you. when you bring those parts into the space, i treat them as sacred.
not as problems. not as symptoms.
as the most honest thing about you.
we listen for what’s actually here
not what you think you should be feeling, or what makes the most narrative sense.
what’s alive right now.
in your body, your impulses, your imagery, your contractions, your longings. we start there, and we follow it.
we ask what grief needs, not what’s wrong with you
shame, anxiety, rage, despair, numbness, fear — these aren’t defects. they’re adaptations. survival strategies. grief that found the only exit it could find. when we stop treating your inner life like an enemy, something starts to unclench.
we make room for what’s been exiled
the tenderness that became armor. the grief that hides behind resignation disguised as strength. the rage that was never safe to feel. the small, soft parts that got quiet to keep you functioning. we’re not excavating them to put them on display—we’re returning them to the circle of welcome your heart was always meant to extend from its place of unquestioning and unconditional belonging.
we move slowly enough that your system can actually stay with it
no pressure for some dramatic, cathartic release. no demand that you arrive with a coherent explanation of yourself. i’m not sitting above you assessing you for gaps and helping you patch self-compassion over them. it’s quite a different frame. i hope you can feel it even now as you read these words. i sit with you and reflect back your incontrovertible worthiness that was never once compromised, not even by your own self-doubt or unskillful actions. i sit with you with radical tenderness and honesty until your system feels enough safety to stop bracing so hard. that’s when something real happens. i sit there with you, and we are both moved and changed by the contact, but this softening is yours to keep, it will start to wrap your wounds with care, and your flexibility to respond to life will shift when that kind of tenderness permeates your center.
something flows through and neither of us leaves unchanged
i sit with you, and what happens is a co-creation. something alive moves through us. life force, magic, ancestors, spirit guides, our souls, angels, source… any of these, all of these… when we open to something greater than our physical selves, and let it flow through both of us, this magic exceeds what can be imagined from the frames of ordinary psychology, physics, or cause-and-effect relationships. so we stay open to the mystery. what you bring moves through me, and what comes back to you isn’t the same as what went in. i am present, permeable, and genuinely changed by this. this isn’t just a metaphor for the depth of my caring. it’s a description of how i show up to our sessions.
i am not your therapist, coach or guru.
i’m a space-holder. a witness.
a witch
i’m a relational witch by nature, and a lifelong student of what happens when psychology remembers the sacred. my practice lives where neuroscience meets mysticism. where the whole body system, encompassing the thinking of the head, heart, gut, and every other wise, sentient inner bit that constitute your body’s knowing, comes to speak the same language as the tides of myth and image and mystery and magic and the ancient breadcrumbs of your lineage across evolution, epigenetics, past lives, other dimensions, or wherever you feel connected and supported. i don’t always have language for how we weave this all together, but i’ve stopped trying to sort and separate, and just allow the beautiful mosaic that is being an embodied, social creature in a landscape more magical than we can ever understand.
i sit with people’s grief and shame, and the truth is one of those annoyingly “simple but not easy” (not ALWAYS easy) conclusions: people don’t need someone to fix them. they need someone who can sit unflinching with the weight of what they’re carrying, and who can see, through all the protection and adaptation and accumulated history, the worthy person waiting to be reminded who they are.
james hillman famously said that people don’t come to therapy to have what is broken fixed. they come to have what is broken blessed.
i’m not a therapist, but the same applies. i’m not here to fix you. but here’s a little secret about healing: not even a doctor heals your wounds. your body does that. but there are favorable conditions for natural healing to take place. that’s what i do. i help create favorable conditions for your wounds not to become infected. whether “healing” is the right frame for what happens to the way we respond to the adaptations formed from our past is a philosophical discussion i love to engage in, but however you wish to meet what you carry, with the goal of letting it be exactly how it is, or if there are parts that you want to heal, we need safety, compassion, tenderness. i will bring these to you, and you will learn to deepen your capacity to meet yourself in the same way.
if you’re standing at the edge
of something tender…
i’ll meet you there.
we may enter the territory of grief. of shame that makes us believe we are outside the circle of welcome. of fear you can’t walk alone. of old pain that still lives in the body. of protective patterns that once made perfect sense—and that you’re starting to outgrow, even if it’s very fledgling.
i’m not afraid of that terrain. i was born to embody the energy of elder and witch. and it’s where i’m at home, where i grow more fully into myself.
you don’t have to translate yourself before you arrive. you don’t have to be less of anything—less intense, less messy, less contradictory, less afraid, less complicated. you don’t have to earn your welcome here. you don’t have to perform healed or almost-healed or sufficiently self-aware. let’s just say hello to you, all of you. pull up a chair.
come exactly as you are.
i will do what i always do: look right into the eyes of the worthy person waiting to be reminded who they are. that’s you. and i will stay beside you until the reminder takes hold.
this is where you can begin to soften without collapsing. where shame loosens its grip. where belonging stops being a thing you read about and starts being something you feel in your bones. where you become more able to meet your own life—and, if you’re a parent, the lives of your children—without disappearing from yourself in the process.
the practical details
format:
1:1 zoom session
length:
75 minutes
exchange:
$250
bring:
a recent trigger, a grief wave, a body-sense that something is here—or just your honest self.
you don’t need a clear agenda.
you don’t need a polished explanation.
you don’t need a good reason.
if you just know, in your heart or your gut,
that you’re meant to sit with me,
let that be enough.
a few things people wonder…
what is a Compassion Witch, exactly?
the witch was the original healer — someone who worked at the edge of what psychology and spirituality both reach toward. i'm not your therapist or your coach. i'm a space-holder, a witness, someone who has spent years learning how to sit beside what hurts until it starts to soften, or to soften you. the witch in me refuses the narrowing that clinical language sometimes does to human experience. i bring love and rigor together, and i don't separate them.
Is this therapy?
it isn't psychotherapy. it's deep, relational, trauma-informed, magic-welcoming support, inquiry, accompaniment, and witnessing — a way of joining you as you come into honest contact with what's alive inside. some of my clients also have therapists. some don't. this is its own thing.
what if i don’t know what to bring?
no worries… clarity usually emerges inside the session. you can come with something specific, or simply with the sense that something in you needs company and room to breathe.
Do I need to be in the middle of some big thing?
no. some people arrive in acute pain. others come because they're tired of the same old pattern and want a deeper way of meeting themselves. both are welcome.
Can I book just one session?
yes. some people come for one focused session and leave with what they needed. others return regularly or intermittently. there's no required commitment. and if you want to join the cauldron (my upcoming group space—see link at top of page) you’ll be welcome there, as well.
What if I'm afraid I'll be too much?
that fear is welcome too. and you won't be. you’re not.
come sit by the fire a while
you've been working on yourself for a long time—reading, practicing, understanding. and you deserve a space that matches the depth of your longing.
not a technique, or a framework, not just another well-meaning professional who keeps you at a careful arm's length.
something else is possible. something more alive than that.
if something in you is tired of earning your welcome —
if something in you wants to be met without being managed —
if something in you is ready to come home to yourself —