Reflect

Let’s talk about anger—the emotion most people try to outrun, suppress, or apologize for before it even fully lands. A lot of my clients come in saying: “I hate that I get angry” “I don’t want to be that person” “I wish I didn’t react like that” And I get it. Anger can feel intense, messy, and at times, out of control. But anger itself isn’t the problem. Anger vs. Aggression (they’re not the same) Let’s clean this up first: Anger = an emotion Aggression = a behavior Anger is

“I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want everything to end. I don’t want to hurt.” There are moments in therapy when the room shifts, when the words land with a kind of weight that demands clarity, presence, and courage. This is one of them. As therapists, we are trained not to turn away from these moments—but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. In fact, one of the most important skills we develop is the willingness to say the words that many people are afraid to say out loud:

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

I want to share some thoughts with you, written as a mother, a therapist, and someone who has walked a path similar to yours—a path full of hope, light, and potential, but also challenges that can test your sense of self. You Are Not Defined by the World You are growing up in a world that often tries to define your value by your looks, your body, or how well you fit into someone else’s expectations. Social media, peers, and popular culture will make it seem like perfection is

As therapists, we aim to meet every client with cultural humility, curiosity, and openness. We meet them where they are—without judgment. I truly believe that understanding a client’s “why we’re here” is often the key to figuring out how to help them get to where they want to go. Time and again, clients begin answering questions about religion, the afterlife, or personal beliefs with the familiar preface: “This is going to sound so woo-woo…” Here’s the thing: everyone’s “woo-

Let’s start here: not every ex-partner, or mother is a narcissist. Sometimes people are avoidant, emotionally immature, or simply not capable of meeting us where we are. Labeling every painful relationship as narcissistic abuse can dilute the term and muddy the waters. But. Some people are narcissistic. And some, more dangerously, are malignant narcissists . If you’ve been involved with one—or thought you loved one—you may still be living in the emotional aftershocks: confuse

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 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 the mix—th

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 like: 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 stay just current enough on the evolving language of emotional chaos. “Crashing out,” for those of

Trigger Warning This article contains descriptions of trauma, sexual assault, and death. Please take care while reading and feel free to pause or return at another time. Why I’m Sharing This I am a psychotherapist. I sit with people in the quiet and often unseen spaces of trauma, grief, and repair. For a long time, I kept my own story at a distance. Not hidden, but held carefully—because it carries weight, and because telling it requires my nervous system to stay with it rath

My boyfriend Michael died two weeks after my 18th birthday. Almost a year before, he and two friends had been drinking underage at a party they should not have been at, and driving a car that wasn’t theirs. They hit a light pole in the next town over. I got the call the next morning—his mother’s voice breaking the quiet. One friend was gone on impact. Another survived, but would never walk the same again. Michael broke his neck. He spent months suspended between life and some

College is often described as a time of self-discovery, new experiences, and unexpected connections—and my own experience was no exception. I remember meeting my college boyfriend and stepping into a world that was both unfamiliar and deeply intriguing. We met in Philosophy class of all places and when he approached me he handed me a book about Buddhism… with his phone number tucked inside and a note asking me to go to the movies with him. I thought,“Smooth… and also very on

“Humor is just another defense against the universe.” — Mel Brooks Humor holds an important place in the therapy room. It often sits right alongside the most painful, heavy experiences people carry. While tears are expected in session, genuine laughter shows up just as often. Both have value. Clients come in holding stories filled with grief, trauma, and loss—sexual abuse, not knowing biological parents, severe physical abuse, and deep relational wounds. These are not light t

Money is rarely just about money. In the therapy room, conversations about finances are often layered with something much deeper—fear, control, safety, identity, power, even love. What starts as “we keep arguing about spending” or “we’re not on the same page financially” quickly unfolds into a much more complex emotional landscape. I’ve sat with couples who are stuck in cycles of conflict—one partner saving rigorously, the other spending more freely. I’ve worked with families

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. A caddie supports their player by helping them use the tools they already h

Let’s talk about free will—or, as Robert Sapolsky (the world-famous Stanford neuroscientist, primatologist, author, and—fun fact—a man whose kids I nannied for) likes to put it: “Free will is that charming little illusion we humans hold onto while our nervous systems quietly run the entire show.” According to Sapolsky, we’re basically walking collections of hormones, childhood experiences, attachment patterns, and trauma histories—all firing together to create what we call “c

Heartbreak has a way of stopping time. One minute you’re moving through your life, making plans, imagining a future—and the next, the ground shifts. Suddenly, the most ordinary moments feel heavy: waking up, making coffee, walking past the place you used to share. 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 is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It’s a sign that you attached, you cared, you i

Addiction is not foreign to any of us. It lives in the marrow of our culture. Addiction is our very human way of trying to feel better — and somehow ending up feeling worse. It is self-soothing turned self-sabotage. An attempt to even the scales — and instead breaking them. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Porn. Gambling. Love. Social media. Food. We live in a culture of endless stimulation — faster, louder, more, better. Our phones are slot machines. Dating apps provide intermittent r

Sometimes clients enter therapy seeking support for familiar symptoms such as anxiety, depressed mood, or persistent rumination. Yet beneath these experiences, the root of their distress is not a cognitive distortion or negativity bias, but the very real impact of a life-altering diagnosis: they are dying of cancer. Clients whose bodies have betrayed them through chronic illness. With people who are staring straight at the thing most of us spend our lives trying not to see:

For most of my adult life, I have worked with children. I have studied them, supported them, and built a career around understanding how early experiences shape who we become. But the most profound lessons about childhood didn’t come from my education or my profession. They came when I had children of my own. And parenting, as it turns out, is the most humbling experience of my life. Like many parents who grew up with adverse experiences, I entered motherhood with a quiet pro

Grief is the word we, as mere mortals, use to contain the vast, untamable sorrow of losing those we love. I’ve spent years dipping my feet in its shallows, sometimes burying my head in the sand, hoping to avoid its full weight. But now, in my forties, the grief tsunami has hit. Maybe it’s the midpoint of life, when the absence of so many loved ones feels sharper. Maybe it’s simply time—reflection deepening what once felt distant. Whatever the reason, I now understand that gri