Before I became a therapist, I experienced what it meant to be deeply cared for by one. To have someone move toward my pain instead of away from it, and make space for the parts of my story I’d learned to keep quiet.
That experience, alongside my own lived experiences and clinical training, shapes the therapist I am today: warm, curious, relational, and committed to seeing the whole person sitting across from me.
As children, we imagine becoming astronauts, veterinarians, rockstars.
We don’t picture ourselves growing into adults Googling therapists because the space between the life we hoped for and the pain we are carrying has become too difficult to manage alone.
And yet, when life already feels like too much, you’re somehow expected to find a stranger you feel comfortable trusting with the parts of yourself that feel like too much.
I understand why that can feel daunting. For many of the people I work with, trust itself has been wounded.
You may have been misunderstood before. Minimized. Gaslit. Told you were too sensitive. Told your memory was wrong. Told to forgive before you were allowed to be angry. Told to move on while the thing hurting you was still happening.
Your relationships, history, body, culture, identity, beliefs, and environment all shape your experience, and all of it is welcome here.
Therapy can be a place to feel heard, express your needs, set boundaries, and show up honestly without having to perform.
I’m here to offer perspective, ask thoughtful questions, notice patterns, and help you reconnect with your own voice and choices.
We’ll get curious about where your responses came from, what they’ve protected you from, and what they may still be trying to communicate.
A few things that make my own life feel lighter