ABOUT ME
A glimpse into my path, my work, and what shaped both.
Listening has always been my way of understanding the world,
a way of staying centred when life gathers pace.
Not just through words, but through what moves between them:
the pauses, the tone, the quiet current underneath.
The breath that shortens and reveals what the mind can’t contain.
The silence that speaks.
I don’t just listen. I attune.
I’ve always been drawn to contradictions and
how they can coexist -
too curious to stay still, too grounded to look away.
What others call paradox, I call the texture of life.
It’s where truth tends to hide, between the poles
we try to reconcile, between what we show
and what we feel.
Long before I called it a profession, people came
to me to untangle what felt complex: emotions,
dynamics, and the quiet negotiations within.
Even in silence, when clarity blurred and
language failed, I could sense the shift
before words arrived.
That threshold between composure and collapse,
between knowing and not-yet-knowing,
is where my work lives.
Some call it intuition. I call it the discipline of noticing - of sensing what moves before it’s named.
Some paths don’t begin; they persist, until I finally admitted they were leading me all along.
What began as instinct has evolved into a deliberate practice -
psychological in depth, systemic in scope, somatic in rhythm.
I work with people who appear composed yet carry a restlessness beneath their calm,
who have mastered reflection but haven’t yet learned to let it land.
Together, we quiet the noise until truth can breathe, and what’s fragmented remembers its rhythm.
What anchors me in this work is the moment awareness turns into self-trust,
that quiet click when something not only lands but holds.
I believe honesty can be a layer of intelligence at its best.
Awareness doesn’t soften; it steadies, often in the most unexpected ways,
with ease and quiet strength.
My work lives where precision meets presence,
where empathy has edges and structure carries warmth.
It’s quiet work, but deeply layered.
Because real change doesn’t appear; it unfolds, and then it holds.
Begin where you are.
The rest will meet you there.
And I’ll hold the space until your own steadiness takes over.
If something in you is already shifting, consider this your permission to follow it.
Nadine Spajic