Philosophy

I believe that it’s the quality of the therapeutic relationship that makes therapy work. Something special happens when we allow ourselves to be witnessed, accepted, and seen by another person. I am privileged to be that witness every day. I listen to stories and silences: the words spoken aloud alongside the spaces between the words: that which is unspoken.

In addition to being a therapist, I’m also a writer. Whether spoken aloud, scribbled onto the page of a journal, or silently rehearsed in our minds, the words we use matter. How we tell the stories of our lives reflects the way we understand ourselves and what has happened to us. It mirrors how we feel about ourselves, the power we have (or don’t have) to make the changes in our lives we most crave, and how our deepest relationships have affected us.

One of the therapeutic modalities I find helpful is narrative therapy. In narrative therapy, it’s possible to take a step back from the story we’ve been telling: take a fresh look at the story we inherited and/or created to make meaning in our lives. With a therapist who’s sensitive to language, we learn that we hold the pen (the laptop?) and we have the ability to change the way we tell the story. This is true at any age, at any point in our lives - even many years after a traumatic event or a troubled childhood.

It’s life’s unexpected twists and turns that brought you here - and they’re a part of your story that I will carry with tenderness and humility. I find that the mystery that unfolds in therapy helps us to understand and to bear the weight of the questions in our hearts: Why is this happening? How will I go on? Who am I? These are the questions that keep us awake at night.  

Your story and the questions you ask about your life: the ones that persistently weave in and out of your mind - these are the guides that can lead you back to yourself. They come as worries, feelings of despair, frustration, pain and - in time - are the foundation upon which we can build hope.

The therapeutic alliance we create together can remind you that you are not alone, you are a part of a much bigger story - the human story, connected to every other story that’s been written or shared aloud.

Every relationship changes us: the people we encounter teach us about who we are and who we wish to be in the world.  

We come to therapy to feel less alone in our stories - we seek out someone who will listen with an open mind and a compassionate heart. When we find the courage to seek out therapy, we hope that the burdens that felt too heavy to bear can become, slowly, more manageable. We take a tentative first step, we reach out, we invite someone new into our story, and we find that the story can change in unexpected ways.

Vulnerability makes us stronger, though it may feel at first to be the opposite.

Being a therapist is the greatest privilege of my life and I don’t take a single moment for granted. Therapy is a container that can grow stronger and more expansive as time passes. The space holds memories, experiences, feelings shared in confidence and faith. As trust and safety grow, so do we. We begin to imagine possibilities that would otherwise have seemed inconceivable.

More than anything, I believe this: It’s never too late.