Therapy for Therapists
Therapists are people, too.
Sometimes we know a lot about what is happening—and still find ourselves caught in it.
You may be a therapist who is thoughtful, experienced, and deeply committed to your work. And then something happens in your own life, your own relationship, or even your work with a client, and suddenly all that knowledge doesn't quite get you where you need to go.
This is one of the places where I really value working with therapists.
You don't have to be the therapist here.
When you are a therapist, there can be a particular kind of shame in struggling.
You might think you should know how to handle this. You might wonder why your own attachment stuff is showing up again. You might be embarrassed that a particular client gets under your skin, that you're exhausted by the work, that you're struggling with a boundary, or that something in your personal life has knocked you off balance.
You don't need me to tell you what you already know, and you don't need to perform being a good therapist for me.
You get to be the person in the room.
My job is to meet you there—with curiosity, warmth, honesty, and enough clinical experience to help you notice what may be difficult to see from inside your own experience.
This is therapy, not clinical consultation. I am not evaluating your clinical work or supervising you. I'm interested in you—the person who happens to be a therapist.
My own background has given me a fairly wide view of therapeutic work. I've spent many years working therapeutically with people in different settings, including wilderness therapy, and have also worked in private practice and higher education. My work is grounded in mindfulness, somatic and relational approaches, and a belief that insight matters—but that experiencing something differently is often what actually creates change.
With therapists, I often find myself helping create space for something that can be surprisingly difficult to practice on our own:
being with yourself as you are, rather than immediately trying to fix, understand, or improve yourself.
Bring your intelligence. Bring your experience. Bring the parts of yourself that know a lot—and the parts that don't know what to do.
We'll get curious together about what is happening and what might be possible.
If you're a therapist looking for your own therapy, I'd be glad to talk with you.
Sometimes we know a lot about what is happening—and still find ourselves caught in it.
You may be a therapist who is thoughtful, experienced, and deeply committed to your work. And then something happens in your own life, your own relationship, or even your work with a client, and suddenly all that knowledge doesn't quite get you where you need to go.
This is one of the places where I really value working with therapists.
You don't have to be the therapist here.
When you are a therapist, there can be a particular kind of shame in struggling.
You might think you should know how to handle this. You might wonder why your own attachment stuff is showing up again. You might be embarrassed that a particular client gets under your skin, that you're exhausted by the work, that you're struggling with a boundary, or that something in your personal life has knocked you off balance.
You don't need me to tell you what you already know, and you don't need to perform being a good therapist for me.
You get to be the person in the room.
My job is to meet you there—with curiosity, warmth, honesty, and enough clinical experience to help you notice what may be difficult to see from inside your own experience.
This is therapy, not clinical consultation. I am not evaluating your clinical work or supervising you. I'm interested in you—the person who happens to be a therapist.
My own background has given me a fairly wide view of therapeutic work. I've spent many years working therapeutically with people in different settings, including wilderness therapy, and have also worked in private practice and higher education. My work is grounded in mindfulness, somatic and relational approaches, and a belief that insight matters—but that experiencing something differently is often what actually creates change.
With therapists, I often find myself helping create space for something that can be surprisingly difficult to practice on our own:
being with yourself as you are, rather than immediately trying to fix, understand, or improve yourself.
Bring your intelligence. Bring your experience. Bring the parts of yourself that know a lot—and the parts that don't know what to do.
We'll get curious together about what is happening and what might be possible.
If you're a therapist looking for your own therapy, I'd be glad to talk with you.