Why I Left the U.S. — And What I’m Building Now
I didn’t leave the United States for adventure.
I left because I was scared. Because I was tired. Because I was trying to survive.
What I’ve built since then is more than a new life abroad—it’s a softer, safer way to live. And now I’m helping others do the same.
What Pushed Me to Leave
The first cracks showed up in Washington, D.C., where I was living on January 6th, 2021. Being that close to the political violence changed something in me—I no longer believed the USA would protect people like myself.
Not long after, COVID housing protections ended, and my corporate-run apartment building tried to raise my rent by 30% overnight. Nobody organized. Nobody pushed back. And I realized that if we weren’t going to fight collectively for something as basic as housing, we were in deep trouble.
I’ve spent my life fighting. I’ve been an activist for labor, anti-racism, LGBTQ+ rights, and economic justice. I’ve always believed that loving your country means holding it accountable. But I could see what was coming—and I knew I’d be less and less safe there.
As a ward of the state, I was failed by every system from childhood on: public schools, healthcare, housing, disability services. I’ve survived sexual assault, medical trauma, and institutional neglect. I live with complex PTSD and am now formally diagnosed as autistic and ADHD.
And I realized: I couldn’t keep trying to fix systems from inside the trauma they were causing. I needed to get safe first. I needed to breathe.
The Truth About Starting Over
Leaving wasn’t easy. It meant giving up proximity to the people I love. I haven’t seen my niece and nephew in years. I grieved the separation even as I knew I had to go.
What pulled me forward was a friend—someone I knew from college, whose nonprofit was expanding to Peru. I came to help with the launch, and to see if I could fall in love with life again. And I did.
The ocean. The food. The art. The systems that still require patience, but don’t try to squeeze you for everything you’re worth. The unexpected quiet of not being able to speak the language fluently—and the relief of not having to perform.
I came to Peru with no Spanish and no certainty. I have an auditory processing issue that has made learning new languages nearly impossible in the past. But I came anyway. Because I wanted to stop masking. I wanted to stop performing. I wanted to live.
What I found was not perfection, but possibility. I’ve built a full life here—including love. I found my partner here. I found community. I found rhythm.
(and my Spanish is still shaky, but I get better every day!)
What I’m Doing Now (And Who It’s For)
I’ve spent over a decade working remotely—writing, building systems, leading operations, and supporting organizations of all kinds. I’ve consulted for nonprofits, worked with startups, taught students, built content teams, and helped digital businesses scale. That work hasn’t stopped.
But in the last year, something shifted. My inbox filled with people asking how I made this move work—how I left, how I stay, and how they could do it too.
So now, in addition to the consulting I’ve always done, I’m opening up a new part of my work: helping people transition into remote life and relocation with real structure, strategy, and support.
I help people:
• Build or refine their remote income strategy
• Craft a digital presence that reflects who they are now
• Plan a move (especially to Peru) with clarity and care
• Understand what kind of systems they’ll need to thrive, not just survive
This isn’t a reinvention. It’s an extension of what I’ve always done—helping people and organizations create systems that support who they are and what they’re here to do.
This Is a Soft Place to Land
Everything I offer is grounded in love, strategy, and thriving beyond survival. I don’t promise easy. But I do promise honesty, care, and systems that actually help.
If you’re feeling pulled toward change—if you’re overwhelmed or unsure but ready to begin—this is your starting point.
You deserve to feel safe. You deserve to define success on your terms. You deserve to imagine something better.
Let’s start there.