I tend to be drawn to people who are raw, honest, and a little rough around the edges. People who are complex, sometimes hard to read, even contradictory. Those who feel dissatisfied with surface-level living and are willing to sit in the discomfort if it means something more authentic is possible.

Often, those I work with feel deeply misunderstood—like you are somehow too much and not enough all at the same time. There is often a quiet sadness, seriousness, and depth that doesn't always have a place to land. You may carry more than you let people see, and maybe long for connection while struggling to fully let it in.

In relationships, this can look like pulling away and protecting yourself, or reaching and longing for reassurance; sometimes moving back and forth between the two. There is a sense of being stuck in patterns that don't quite match what feels most authentic at your core.

Many of the people I work with are thoughtful and self-aware, yet they still find themselves struggling to build relationships that feel truly fulfilling. There is frequently struggles to make meaning of their experiences, to extend compassion toward themselves, or to navigate anger without fearing they are too much in how they feel.

Underneath all of this, there is a quieter fear—that you are broken, unloveable, too intense, too cold, or somehow not enough to be fully met. At times, you may notice parts of yourself that feel harsh, reactive, or even mean; especially in the places you most want connection.

What feels most tender to me is that many of these patterns didn't come out of nowhere. They were shaped in environments where emotional pain was minimized, misunderstood, or repeatedly invalidated. Where growing up quickly wasn't a choice, but something that was required—implicitly or explicitly.

I deeply appreciate the people I work with. Their honesty. Their humanity. Their willingness to look at themselves and their relationships with care and accountability. I admire depth of feeling, even when it's difficult.

What you may not see, at least not right away, is the strength it has taken to become who you are. Or the ways in which the very things that feel most painful or confusing can also hold something meaningful, even valuable, when given the space to be understood.

Some of the communities and experiences I'm particularly drawn to working with:

Those who identify as queer, gender non-conforming, neurodiverse, or would describe themselves as alternative in some way. Those navigating existential questions or a sense of ontological unease. People with a complicated, evolving, or emerging relationship to spirituality. Those with a deep connection to the natural world or to advocacy and collective care. People who are renegotiating their relationship to technology, at whatever stage that process is in. And those on a journey with plant medicines, especially as that intersects with questions of self and meaning.