Therapy is a leap. Not a stroll.
It’s like jumping off a cliff in a wingsuit. Terrifying. Exhilarating. Necessary.
You either jump — or you stay stuck.
Starting therapy isn’t about chatting with a friend for an hour about how you’ve been feeling. Or maybe it is. But then, you have to let in the question. The one that knocks hard.
You answer it — or you don’t.
And if you don’t, ask yourself why.
Real therapy is not comfort. It’s transformation.
It’s choosing to unlearn. To dismantle generational patterns. To stop living someone else’s story and finally write your own.
It takes time. Grit. Commitment.
I’m not the type of therapist who nods and smiles while nothing moves. I’m direct. Sometimes blunt. I won’t waste your time.
If I see we’re not progressing, I’ll refer you to someone else.
And when there’s movement, when something real happens — I’m all in.
I say what needs to be said.
Sometimes it’s gentle. Sometimes it cuts deep.
I’m intuitive. Sharp. Honest.
And yes — sometimes I’m wrong.
But if you can tell me why I’m wrong, we’ve already made progress.
I don’t do this work because I “love people.”
I do it because I’m obsessed with truth.
And I want that for you:
Your truth. Raw. Whole. Unapologetic.