A Short Introduction
I am a domestic violence survivor.
For a long time, that fact did not arrive as a clear turning point. It stayed quieter than that—settling into the background of my life and slowly reshaping how I understood safety, memory, and choice. What lingered was not only what happened, but how the body holds experience long after the mind tries to rationalize it. Survival can look functional from the outside while something inside is still recalibrating, learning how to exist without constant vigilance.
There came a point when continuing as I was no longer neutral. It felt like avoidance. I chose therapy not because I wanted to be fixed, but because I wanted to understand myself clearly. I wanted language for my own responses, insight into patterns I kept repeating, and responsibility for my healing. Therapy became a place of study—of my nervous system, my coping mechanisms, and the quiet negotiations I had been making with myself for years. Healing, I learned, is not passive. It requires participation.
That process changed how I relate to silence.
It also changed how I relate to words.
I began writing not as an emotional outlet, but as a way to organize what I already understood. Writing became a method of translation—turning internal clarity into something structured and precise. I was never interested in dramatic storytelling or emotional performance. I was interested in accuracy. In saying things as they are, without exaggeration. Over time, that discipline led me to publish independently. I have since self-published two books, both grounded in reflection, observation, and the quiet work of making sense of lived experience.
Authorship, for me, is not about visibility.
It is about responsibility.
Words shape how people understand themselves, and I take that seriously.
Alongside my writing, I have spent more than fifteen years working in the creative industry. Across branding, communication, content, and strategy, my work has consistently sat at the intersection of meaning and execution. I translate ideas into structure. I pay attention to how messages land, not just how they sound. Pattern recognition—across people, systems, and narratives—has been central to my professional life. I have worked across industries and roles, carrying both creative vision and operational responsibility.
That body of work eventually expanded into mentorship. I was invited to become one of the first ten mentors at WEWAW Indonesia, a women-led empowerment platform focused on career clarity, leadership, and professional growth. In this role, I worked with women navigating pivotal decisions in their professional lives—often weighing the realities of startup culture, agency work, and corporate structures. The experience sharpened something I had already learned through my own career: that sustainable growth comes less from chasing the “right” path, and more from understanding one’s capacity, values, and timing with honesty.
What connects my personal history and my professional work is not trauma, but clarity. I am interested in how people think, how they cope, and how they communicate—especially under pressure. I understand what it means to function while carrying unseen weight. I also understand the discipline required to turn insight into something useful, ethical, and grounded in reality.
At this stage of my life, I work from integration rather than urgency. I value depth, structure, and emotional literacy. I am deliberate about what I commit to and intentional about how I show up. Whether I am writing, mentoring, or collaborating, I bring the same principles with me: clarity over noise, responsibility over performance, and honesty without spectacle.
This page is not an attempt to summarize everything I have done.
It is a record of how I arrived here—and how I work now.
Below are the formal trainings and certifications that support this work. They do not replace lived experience, nor do they stand above it. They exist alongside it, as part of my commitment to doing this responsibly.
