I’ve always been drawn to the inner world — to understanding what makes people feel, hope, shut down, or come alive. Some of that came from growing up in a home where I was asked to take on more emotional weight than I should have. And some of it came from genuine love for the complexity of people.
We moved around a lot, and for a while, religion helped me organize the world. It gave me meaning. But over time, it also imposed limits — on who was in, who was out, and what parts of myself were welcome.
I’ve let go of many of those structures, but I haven’t lost my hunger for what’s deeper. I still believe in things that awaken the soul — poetry, music, and the intimacy of being truly seen by another person.
Midlife has been a slow unveiling: seeing the ways I’ve taken on too much for others, and not enough for myself. And with that, more loneliness — but also more intimacy, more truth, and a kind of sturdiness I wouldn’t trade.
If you’ve made it this far, maybe you’re in your own kind of transition. And maybe you’re hoping, like I was, that it can lead somewhere more real.
Therapy with me moves slowly — not because we’re avoiding anything, but because it takes time to truly know someone. In relational work, that time is the work. We’re not here just to vent or process endlessly without direction. We’re here to be honest, together.
I’ll never claim to know you better than you know yourself. I’m always approximating — and I assume I’m getting it wrong on some level, even if I’m in the ballpark. That’s part of how this works: you begin clarifying who you are by speaking into the places I get close, or miss. And you’ll probably start guessing about me, too. When that happens, and you feel ready to speak to it, we’ll meet it honestly.
In the beginning, most people have a lot they’ve carried alone. You need space to say things that haven’t had room before — and to know I won’t just sit back and nod. This work can bring some discomfort. You might feel heavier before you feel lighter. But over time, many people notice a growing sense of relief, often built from tiny shifts they didn’t expect.
I’m inviting you to become more compassionate with yourself — which, in my experience, is one of the hardest things therapy asks of us. I’m also inviting you to become stronger. Maybe a little less “nice.” But oddly, the less we aim to please, the more capacity we have to love with depth and kindness.
My therapy approach is relational, psychodynamic, and EMDR-informed, with a focus on creating meaningful, lasting change. I offer deeper, insight-oriented work, depending on your unique needs. In our sessions, we may explore past relationships and experiences to uncover patterns that shape your present struggles, helping you gain insight and create new, healthier ways of being.
I specialize in:
Fees:
I love grabbing a bite at Ronin (though I’m sad to see them leaving downtown Bryan!) or Porter’s for a unique occasion. For a family-friendly spot, C&J’s is a favorite—plus, the Mannings are just good people. When it comes to coffee, Harvest and Tavo are my go-to places here in town. While I explored a few different career paths before finding therapy, this work has connected me most deeply to myself and to others. It challenges me to keep growing, to never hold an answer too tightly, and to embrace endless curiosity. That sense of discovery is what makes me feel more alive and present in my world—and in the work I do with my clients. One quote I love is:
“On Earth, I was a work in progress, Was comforted in the knowing, That I had a million mistakes still in me, To learn from. I changed my mind , More often than I changed by socks,, And whenever I was criticized, For mismatching thoughts, I’d say, Who wants to be today, Who they were yesterday?...A promised land, Is not a promised land, If I can’t keep learning." - Andrea Gibson, You Better Be Lightning “What Sucks About An Afterlife”
