Embedded Files
these aren't products
they're lifelines
💛Gratitude to Perspire for letting my story sit at your front desk. That's not nothing.
Certified Peer & Family Specialist-in-Training (CPFS)
I’m currently in training to become a CPFS through Colorado’s official program — a peer-led, trauma-informed credential focused on recovery support, not diagnosis.
Think: lived experience + professional boundaries + holding the cocoon.
I started Pearl Girl the night I lost it over a restaurant.
I had driven across town -- furious, shaking -- to meet my father near his temple. I was doing the thing; showing up, being good, keeping the peace.
Only to find out....
The restaurant we were meeting at beforehand was literally blocks from my own place.
I sat in the parking lot and just....cracked. This wasn't about a restaurant. It was about years of keeping the volume down on my pain so others wouldn't flinch. It was about cross emotional distances no one else had to travel.
That night, I didn't journal. I didn't meditate. I didn't do the healthy thing.
But I did something.
I pulled out a sharpie and wrote "Not for that" on a scrap of paper. I stuck it to the dash.
That's when Pearl Girl started.
....and I drove home and listened to Pearl Girl by Underworld.
Allison Kramer
PEOPLE LEADERS
You Might Be A Pearl Girl If....
The Chameleon — Nina
You blend into every room like it's your job.
By the time you speak, it’s too late — your ears are already steaming.
You forget what your own voice sounds like…..
The Polished Panic — Elle
You're polished, prepared, and permanently tense....It's been practiced in a mirror.
No one saw the panic behind it — or the price you paid to stay composed.
The Burnout — Maddy
You apologize for being too much, then apologize again for disappearing.
You're running the whole damn setlist… with your head in your hand.
Even your joy needs a permission slip.
The Paranoid — Lila
You act like you’re fixing your lipstick, but really?
You’re watching the exit.
Your reflection isn’t for you — it’s surveillance.
The High-Functioning Wreck — Jess
You're always “fine.”
Hair done, inbox zero, smile rehearsed.
But no one sees the wind tunnel you walk through just to show up.
You run on caffeine, crisis, and calendar invites.
Still, your hair looks amazing.
The One Who Stayed — Jennifer
You didn't walk away -- from the family, the job, the wreckage. You stayed. You survived.
PEARL GIRL RECOVERY
Ways We Meet
The Cocoon
For when you need a place to land — not explain.
This space is the hush before the heartbeat. A refuge. A nest. A liminal room between before and after. Nothing is required. We breathe, we exist, we rest in the quiet bravery of staying. Your camera can stay off, your body curled up, your words unsaid. It's enough.
The Invitation
For when something needs to rise to the surface — softly.
Come as you are — heart buzzing, voice cracking, or just needing to hear yourself think. This session holds space for the slow unraveling of spirals, the quiet clarity that only comes when you're gently witnessed. There's no prep, no pressure — just a woven rhythm of presence, care, and breath. We talk until it feels lighter.
The Proof
For the scarred places that prove you survived.
Your story matters — especially the parts that feel too tender, too jagged, or too weird to say out loud. This session honors what's been carried, clawed through, or quietly overcome. It might be silent. It might be messy. It might be just right. Share a photo, journal something visual, or sit with someone who sees you and says, “I know.”
The Beat
For when words won’t do — but sound might.
Whether you bring a playlist, an instrument, or nothing at all, this is a space to drop into rhythm. A single tone repeated can hold more than any sentence. We can listen together. Play together. Pause together. Sometimes the moment just needs a beat — to grieve, to hope, to stretch into something new.
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