I’m Eva. Eva María, actually. My best friend calls me Evo. And yes, Eva María is also the name of a very famous Spanish song from the 70s, which is probably only funny if you grew up in Spain.

I’m Spanish, from Valencia. I’m a mother, writer, creator, separated woman, and above all, someone who has had to reinvent herself more than once without waiting to have the whole map in front of her.

For many years, I lived on autopilot, like most people, really.

I built a life that, from the outside, looked reasonable, functional, even successful but inside, something was slowly going quiet. Not all at once.

First, you stop listening to the small signals, then you normalize the discomfort, then you get used to living with parts of yourself asleep.

And one day you realize you are not exactly living your life. You are living an acceptable version of it.

My path into this work did not begin with a spiritual theory or a business idea. It began with my own life.

It began with a long relationship where love and family still mattered, but desire and intimacy had slowly disappeared. It began with having to face a very uncomfortable truth: that a structure can keep functioning while something essential inside you is no longer breathing.

And then, a tsunami arrived and it changed everything.

Around the same time, during a Pluto transit over my natal Sun, I also entered a very particular chapter of my life as a woman online: visible, desired, projected onto, and exposed to the strange distance between being seen and being truly known.

For years, I built an online presence around image, sensuality, and fantasy.

That world gave me freedom, money, learning, and a very deep understanding of human desire. But it also showed me its shadows: disconnection, performance, validation addiction, and how easily a woman can become a character before she realizes it.

And that is where another search began, this time, inward.

The search to come back to myself, to ask what I really wanted. To understand why I could not find peace or clarity when, on paper, I had everything.

Over time, that search became writing, reflection, study, astrology, maieutic coaching, and a very personal way of accompanying others.

Not from the pedestal of someone who has all the answers but from the place of someone who has had to ask herself difficult questions and allow those questions to change her life.

Today, my work revolves around one central idea:

Desire is not superficial. Desire is the beginning of life.

And when desire is not explored (when it is ignored, repressed, misunderstood, or never even known) we end up living lives based on scripts written by other people.

We arrive at the end of this one life we have been given, look back, and see nothing but fog, survival, and automatic decisions.

I do not only mean sexual desire, although I include that too.

I mean desire as life force. As inner direction. As the spark that appears when something inside you still wants to live, create, love, change, express itself, or feel real again.

But I have also learned that not every desire is clean.

Sometimes we desire from the wound.

From comparison.

From lack.

From the character we created.

From the need to escape.

So my work is not about saying, “Just follow your desire.”

It is about learning to listen to it honestly.

To distinguish what is true from what is borrowed.

What is alive from what is compulsive.

Intuition from impulse.

Expansion from avoidance.

Freedom from escape.

That is the foundation of Conscious Desire.

A space born from my own story, but created for something larger than my story.

A space to speak about desire, truth, identity, relationships, fantasy, conscious separation, reinvention, and midlife awakening without reducing life to easy formulas or empty promises.

I am not a therapist. I am not here to diagnose you or tell you what to do with your life.

I am a woman who has lived several lives inside one life.

A woman who has loved, lost herself, exposed herself, reinvented herself, mothered, carried, desired, doubted, and learned that clarity often does not come from thinking harder.

It comes from daring to tell the truth.

My work now is to accompany that moment.

The moment when a person stops pretending they do not know because deep down, very often, we do know.

We know what no longer feels alive.

We know what hurts.

We know which conversation we are avoiding.

We know which part of us is asking for air.

We know when a life, a relationship, an identity, or a character has become too small for us.

The hard part is not always knowing.

The hard part is listening.

And then walking... with awareness and soul.

That is what brought me here and that is what holds my work now.

I don't help you to become another person, but i guide you back to the part of yourself that may have been waiting, for far too long, to be heard.

Eva :)