My story

There are certain moments in life that don’t arrive logically. They arrive quietly, repeatedly, until they become impossible to ignore.

For me, it began during my second year at fashion school in the UK. I started having the same dream night after night: my mother reading tarot cards for me. It made no sense. No one in my family practiced tarot. Occultism or deep spiritual practice was never part of my upbringing, and I certainly wasn’t searching for it.

At the time, my world revolved around fashion. Outside of that, I found myself drawn to meditation, neuroscience, and the psychology of human behavior. I was fascinated by the relationship between the mind and reality; how thought patterns shape identity, how the nervous system stores emotion, and how energy influences the way we move through the world. Tarot had no place in that equation.

Until suddenly, it did.

The dream persisted long enough for curiosity to outweigh skepticism. So I bought my first deck.

What I expected to be a passing interest became something far more profound. The moment I held those cards, something instinctive clicked into place. Over the next three years, I immersed myself completely in the study of tarot. Not only through symbolism and interpretation, but through psychology, behavioral patterns, emotional conditioning, and intuition.

I was never interested in fortune-telling or simply predicting what might happen in someone’s life. I was interested in understanding people.

I studied relentlessly. Read obsessively. Practiced constantly. And somewhere in that process, I realized tarot was never truly about predicting the future. It was about revealing the subconscious narratives already shaping it.

Of course, choosing this path came with resistance. People warned me against it. They questioned my credibility, my education, and my future. I had built a life in fashion. A degree, a business, and a version of success that made sense on paper. Walking away from all of it felt irrational, even to me.

But there is a distinct loneliness that comes with ignoring something your soul keeps asking you to become.

Eventually, I reached a point where staying disconnected from myself felt far more frightening than starting over.

On April 1, 2024, I left fashion behind and stepped fully into this work. No blueprint. No guarantees. Just an unwavering knowing that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Since then, tarot has become less of a profession and more of a language through which I help people understand themselves—their fears, patterns, emotional cycles, and the parts of themselves they abandoned simply to survive.

Because real transformation does not begin when someone predicts your future. It begins when you become aware of the unconscious beliefs creating your present.

That, to me, is what tarot truly is.

Not escapism. Not performance.

A mirror.