I think many of us become experts at being who we needed to be before we ever had the chance to discover who we actually are.

We often learn who we need to be long before we're given the opportunity to discover who we are. We adapt. We perform. We protect ourselves. Somewhere along the way, our bodies, desires, grief, and joy learn to speak a quieter language.

Learning to hear that quieter language is what draws me to this work. Together, we'll become curious not only about what happened, but how your body carries those experiences and how relationships, culture, and identity continue shaping the way you experience yourself and others. Rather than trying to get rid of the parts of you that helped you survive, I hope we'll understand why they developed, honor what they protected, and gently explore whether they still fit the life you're hoping to build. My hope is that therapy feels less like fixing yourself and more like expanding your understanding of yourself.

Some of our most meaningful work may also come from the conversations we've been taught to avoid. Sex. Desire. Pleasure. Fantasy. Shame. Touch. Sex fascinates me because it's rarely just about sex. It's often where our body, mind, imagination, relationships, and history all speak at once. Whether we're exploring desire, navigating intimacy, healing from sexual trauma, or finding language for experiences you've never felt safe enough to name, I hope our work creates room for those conversations without embarrassment, judgment, or the pressure to be anything other than fully human.

I'm especially drawn to working with people whose identities, relationships, or desires have too often been understood through someone else's lens. Whether you're BIPOC, queer, trans, exploring relationship diversity, non-monogamy, or kink, I hope you spend less time explaining who you are and more time discovering what feels most authentic to you. I also love working with partners because relationships are living systems. Together, we'll slow patterns down, become curious about what each person has been protecting, and create new ways of understanding one another that feel less like surviving and more like truly relating.

I feel equally connected to grief work—not only the grief that follows death, but the grief woven throughout ordinary life: the identities we outgrow, the futures that change shape, the relationships that become something different, and the versions of ourselves we once needed to survive.

I’m here. Whenever you are ready.

Supervisors: Rachel Schwartz, LMFT and Lena Elkhatib, LMFT, CST-S