My Story

Who am I?

I want to know you beyond the things that brought you to therapy. I'm curious about your relationships, your history, the things you care about, the things that make you laugh, and even the parts of yourself you may not particularly like. All of those pieces are part of you, and I want to understand the whole picture.

I'm a direct therapist. If I notice something I think is important, I'll tell you, even if I suspect it isn't what you hoped I'd say. I don't think honesty and kindness are opposites, though, and I'll try to bring both to the conversation. At the same time, I don't come into the room believing I have you figured out. I'm bringing my training, experience, and perspective, but you are the person who knows your life from the inside.

I take the work seriously, but I don't think therapy has to be serious all the time. There should be room for humor, too, and for the kind of genuine conversation that makes it possible to feel felt rather than analyzed.

Why I Became a Therapist

I first went to therapy as a teenager. At the time, I had a lot of painful thoughts about myself and about where I fit—or didn't fit—in the world. I was going through a formative time in my life, and I was pretty certain that no one really cared to know me.

There was something so healing about being able to lay all of my cards on the table and take inventory of them. I could say the things I was thinking, look at the parts of myself I didn't understand very well, and slowly become curious about who I was rather than simply deciding there was something wrong with me.

Therapy helped me create a relationship with myself. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I actually liked myself, and that I wanted to participate in the person I was becoming.

That experience has stayed with me. It is a big part of why I became a therapist and why I still believe there is something powerful about having a place where you can bring all of yourself—the parts you understand, the parts you don't, and the parts you're not particularly proud of—and have someone be genuinely interested in knowing you.

How I Think About Therapy

I learned how to do this work with people who were going through some of the toughest moments of their lives. Early in my career, I worked in psychiatric hospitals and crisis settings with people experiencing trauma, loss, addiction, serious mental health challenges, and the aftermath of suicide attempts and overdoses.

There is no one stronger or more resilient than someone on the other side of a suicide attempt or overdose who is still trying to figure out a path toward tomorrow. I can't think of a more inspirational place to learn this work. In some of the darkest moments, I have found so much light and strength in people that it changed the way I understand resilience.

It also taught me that there is no need to be afraid of difficult things. An assault, a rape, the sudden death of someone you love, an accident, or another experience that turns your world upside down can leave you trying to make sense of something that doesn't make sense. This extends to how the darkest parts of you may come up in therapy. I have a lot of respect for how complicated that process can be, and I don't believe you need to have your story neatly organized. The PowerPoint presentation can wait.

Looking Beneath the Surface

I've also learned to look beneath the behavior to understand what someone is trying to cope with. When a person is hurting badly enough that they are using self-harm, substances, avoidance, or other ways of coping that may ultimately make things harder, I want to understand what that behavior has been doing for them rather than reduce them to the behavior itself. What is the unmet need? How can we still meet it?

Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) offers another way forward. Rather than spending all your energy trying to get rid of anxiety, control your thoughts, or avoid discomfort, we work on changing your relationship with those experiences. You can learn to make room for what you're feeling without letting it dictate every decision you make. From there, we can focus on what matters to you and how you want to live, even when life gets uncomfortable.

The Mind and Body

But this work isn't just about changing how you think about what you're experiencing. Your body plays a role, too. Body-based work helps you pay attention to what's happening physically and how those responses shape your experience. Polyvagal-informed somatic practices can help you build awareness of these patterns while supporting your capacity for regulation, connection, and a greater sense of safety.

Somatic breathwork can help us move beyond the analytical mind and access the unconscious, where we can get curious about parts of ourselves we may have lost touch with. Sometimes, reconnecting with who we're becoming means unlearning old lessons, questioning the stories we've carried, and loosening the patterns that no longer fit who we are. That's the kind of work I want to make room for: not just understanding why you are the way you are, but discovering what else might be possible.