My Path to This Practice

As a kid, I was twice-exceptional. I was a gifted child, and I also struggled with symptoms of ADHD and autism spectrum disorder (AUS). Back then, in the 70’s and 80’s, people weren’t aware of these differences in the way we are now. The ways I struggled are now seen as common to people who are neurodivergent. That’s label that I now embrace! But as a kid dealing with these struggles, I often had a very hard time managing my emotions, especially during my grade school years.

This manifested as crying whenever I felt challenged at school, and whenever I felt misunderstood by friends. Mastery of most things came naturally to me, and I expected I should know how to do everything; I would break down in tears at the prospect of asking for help. With my mother, I would yell and scream. I wouldn’t be surprised if today I would be diagnosed with rejection sensitive dysphoria, or even oppositional defiant disorder.

I was also very socially awkward and had difficulties with friendships. I didn’t understand social nuance and was a blunt communicator. (I’m still a straight shooter, but I have a much better handle on tact and compassion now!) I also didn’t have any sense of self-awareness and was continually surprised when others reflected the difficulties they experienced in their interactions with me.

Between my lack of friends at school and the conflict I seemed to always be creating at home, I often felt despondent, isolated, and hopeless.

By the time I was in second or third grade, my mom was taking me to weekly counseling sessions.
There’s a saying, “People don’t remember what you did; they remember how you made them feel.” I don’t have much memory of actually being in therapy. What I do remember is feeling ashamed: I thought I was a bad kid. The story I told myself through most of my adult life was that I was an unmanageable, out-of-control kid that my mom in particular didn’t know how to handle, so she had to get help.

I carried this story with me throughout nearly my whole adult life. It even influenced my fears about becoming a parent myself! I was terrified I would have a kid who was as difficult as I was, and that I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

It wasn’t until I was in school to become a therapist myself that I realized: I wasn’t a bad kid! There ARE no bad kids! I was just a kid who was burdened with a perfect storm of multiple forms of neurodivergence, including undiagnosed ADHD and symptoms that today might place me on the autism spectrum. On top of that, I now realize I was struggling under the weight of depression for most of my early childhood.

No, I wasn’t a bad kid. I was a kid who was overwhelmed, didn’t have the emotional tools I needed to manage my feelings. I was a kid who didn’t have the skills most kids had when it came to communication. I was feeling completely misunderstood. I felt alienated from my family, and unloved.

My parents were probably grasping for any possible way they could find to help me. They brought me to therapy because they realized they were out of their depth. I was in therapy because I needed help, and my parents needed help getting me that help.

Chances are, if you are thinking about therapy, you might be feeling some of the same things either I or my parents felt, during this chapter of our lives. You might be considering therapy because you literally don’t know what else to do, to get yourself or your relationship on a healthier trajectory.

If this is where you’re at, I want you to know: I get it – and I’ve got you.

If you’re just starting your therapy journey. I’ve been in your shoes, not just during this chapter of my childhood, but at several other times in my life.

Making the decision to pursue therapy is a courageous one. It shows bravery, as you make the decision to try something new, outside your comfort zone. It shows intelligence, too, as you realize that you don’t have the resources you need to get where you want to go on your own.

It’s 100% okay to need help. You deserve help. No one is meant to navigate struggles alone. NO ONE.
I approach therapy as an honor. It’s an honor when a client decides to take this step, to bare their issues with me and to be vulnerable about their deepest hurts and fears, and desires and dreams. Every day of my work, I feel a sense of poignancy and awe about what my clients choose to share with me.

I invite you to be real, here.

I invite you to show up as your full self.

Most of all, I invite you to show up for yourself.

This is a place where you’ll be accepted, unconditionally. My whole purpose is to understand you – not just that, but to understand why you are who you are, how you got to be who you are.

When you show up as the most raw and honest version of yourself, we can do the best work together. I’ll start by getting to know your goals. Then, in collaboration with you, I’ll help you get where you want to be.

In our time together, I will reflect back to you the areas where I think you can grow, to better achieve what you want. I promise to be patient and gentle with you as you uncover tender spots that need healing. I will stick with you as you find your way towards a better self and a better life.

Along the way, I’ll hold healthy boundaries, both in our session and between our meetings. If sticky moments come up, I will bring them up so we can discuss them, together.

I’m honored and privileged to walk this path of discovery with you.

Are you ready to get started?