Reflect

There’s a concept we come back to often in therapy: focus on what you can control. It sounds simple—until you’re raising a teenager in a world moving faster than you ever expected, where independence suddenly comes with handlebars and a throttle. For adolescents, everything is changing at once: their bodies, their minds, their social circles, and their hunger for independence—and, apparently, very expensive bikes (courtesy of YouTuber Sur Ronster). Now add electric bikes to t

Something happened in our small seaside community of Carlsbad this past week that sent shockwaves through the people who live here. A mother was taken from us. A wife. A friend. A class volunteer. A field-trip driver. A room parent. A flag football coach. A party organizer. A friendly neighbor you see daily walking her dog. A warm smile. A familiar laugh. A distinct friendly voice. Someone who was woven into the ordinary fabric of our lives is suddenly no longer here. And per

I recently watched the new Spider-Man movie with my kids, and naturally, I could not just watch a superhero movie. My therapist brain had to get involved. Because apparently even movie night is an opportunity for psychological reflection. The movie got me thinking about our relationship with the parts of ourselves we don't particularly like—the angry parts, impulsive parts, wounded parts, jealous parts, defensive parts, terrified parts. Our inner monsters. The characters are

My version of a midlife crisis didn’t involve a red Corvette—it came with handlebars and a helmet. Somewhere between raising kids and running a therapy practice, I did something wildly out of character: I signed up for motorcycle lessons. This has been a long-standing dream, and now—firmly planted in midlife—I figured, if not now, when? Learning to ride has been equal parts thrilling, terrifying, humbling, and hilarious. It’s a full-body workout in concentration, balance, and

Growing up One of Five Sisters I’m one of five girls in a family of six kids. Five daughters. One son. And somehow, we all survived. We grew up in a three-bedroom house with my mom, my dad, my brother, and five girls trying to figure out how to exist in the same physical space. Privacy was basically a luxury none of us could afford. We stole each other’s clothes. We borrowed each other’s makeup—sometimes without asking. We fought over space, mirrors, bathrooms, clothes, boys,

College is often described as a time of self-discovery, unexpected experiences, and relationships that leave lasting impressions. Looking back, I've realized that some of the people who shape us most aren't the ones who stay the longest. I met my college boyfriend in a philosophy class of all places. One day he walked up to me, handed me a book about Buddhism, and tucked inside was his phone number along with a note asking me to go to the movies. I remember thinking, "Smooth.

Welcome to the digital sexual revolution, where people of all genders and sexual orientations are unapologetically writing their own definitions of sex, relationships, and intimacy. And honestly, I’m here for it. In therapy, there’s no such thing as “TMI.” Sexuality is a natural, messy, complicated, and beautiful part of the human experience—and it deserves a seat on the therapy couch right alongside stress, grief, and family drama. Not all nervous systems are equipped to han

Life isn’t about the cards you’re dealt—it’s about how you play them. In the 1990s, Kaiser Permanente and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) conducted the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) Study, fundamentally changing how we understand the long-term impact of childhood trauma. The research revealed a powerful connection between early adversity and struggles later in life, including mental health challenges, addiction, and chronic medical conditions. The

I have a complicated relationship with the word “forgiveness.” Honestly, it’s probably my least favorite F-word. Forgiveness isn’t automatically a cornerstone of healing. What matters is whether it genuinely supports your recovery—not whether someone else thinks you should do it. Too often, forgiveness is presented in ways that feel forced, steeped in religious or moral expectations. You know the message: If you don’t forgive someone for a wrongdoing—even if they never apolog

Heartbreak has a way of stopping time. One minute you're making plans and imagining a future; the next, the ground shifts beneath you. Suddenly, ordinary moments feel heavy—waking up, making coffee, passing places that once held meaning. As a therapist, I sit with people in this space every day. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: heartbreak isn't proof that something is wrong with you. It's proof that you cared. I know this not just from clinical work—I know it

Over the past few weeks, the same theme has surfaced again and again in my therapy office. Different people. Different backgrounds. Different life stories. And yet, the same painful words: "I feel like I’m failing." "I should be further ahead." "Everyone else seems to have it figured out." "Why am I not where they are?" The comparison list changes, but the underlying wound often stays the same. Income. Career. Relationships. Weight. Appearance. Age. Success. Status. Accomplis

Shame is not “I did something bad.” Shame is “I am bad.” And there is a profound difference between the two. Guilt can guide us. Guilt can realign us with our values. Guilt says, that behavior didn’t feel right to me. Shame, however, burrows deeper. Shame doesn't stay confined to the mind; it settles into the body. Into the gut. Into the soul. It becomes a heavy, dark knowing that whispers: You are unworthy. You are too much. Not enough. Broken. Bad. Shame feels like tar. Lik

Apparently, I’m Old Enough to Be a Therapist, But Not Quite Cool Enough to Say “Crash Out.” I had a moment recently in session where a client used the phrase: “I’m literally crashing out.” And I had to pause internally. Not because I didn’t understand what they meant—but because I did. Too well. Also because part of me was thinking: Am I cool enough to say that back? (Spoiler: I’m not. Not out loud. Not yet.) But here’s the thing: between my clients and having teenagers, I st

I once heard someone liken choosing a therapist to picking out a car. You must know what kind of car you want and even take a test drive to judge if it's a good fit. I encourage you to do the same in your search for a mental health provider. Every therapist is not for everyone. Although we have similar educations and training, we do not all practice the same. That is not only OK, it's expected. We all follow the same ethical and legal guidelines but are as different as the ch

Many clients wonder: “Am I doing therapy wrong?” The truth is—you can’t. If you’re showing up in whatever way you can—searching for meaning, healing, connection, or simply trying to understand yourself—you are already beginning doing the work. In our sessions, my goal is for you to feel safe enough to tell your story. Our time together may be brief, but it can still be meaningful. I want you to leave with a little less fear, a little more hope, and greater compassion for your

A good golf caddie knows the course—the obstacles, the distances, and the strategy for playing it well. A great caddie helps their player choose the right club, read the terrain, and stay focused from the first tee to the final putt. At first glance, golf and therapy may not seem to have much in common. But recently, a client helped me see just how similar the roles of a caddie and a therapist can be. Perhaps the comparison feels especially fitting because golf has been part

There is something about sitting in my chair that makes me feel like the conductor of an orchestra. I know the room. I know the rhythm. I understand the space and time. I can listen for what is being said—and what isn't. I can notice shifts in tone, changes in breathing, movement in the body, a pause that lasts a little longer than usual. I have my toolbox within reach. Years of clinical experience, modalities, training, supervision, intuition, and the accumulated wisdom of s

I grew up with four sisters and one brother—six kids, two parents, and one bathroom. My brother didn’t exactly have the easiest setup. Being the lone boy in a house full of girls—with more bunk beds than a boot camp—he was outnumbered from the start. Our home was chaotic, loud, and sometimes emotionally overwhelming. When I think back, one memory always makes me smile. After school, I used to take my brother and my two younger sisters on the public bus—three little ducklings

Have you ever felt like part of you wants one thing while another part wants the exact opposite? Part of you wants to leave the relationship. Part of you desperately wants to stay. Part of you knows you're safe. Part of you feels terrified. Part of you wants to speak up. Part of you would rather keep the peace. Part of you knows your worth. Part of you is convinced you'll be abandoned if you ask for what you need. If so, you're not crazy. You're human. One of the things I lov

In EMDR and resourcing work, I often invite clients to identify a nurturing figure—someone (or something) that evokes safety, warmth, protection, and unconditional care. And time and time again, something beautiful happens. It’s not a parent. Not a partner. Not even a wise fictional character. It’s their dog. Their cat. A horse they bonded with as a child. Or an animal they lost years ago that still feels present in their nervous system. And honestly, that makes perfect sense