After a decade of sitting across from people in therapy rooms, I realized the most profound truth: people don't fail at transformation—the one-size-fits-all approach fails them. What the textbooks never taught us was that healing doesn't follow a formula—and forcing someone to fit a model or treatment modality doesn't just slow their progress, it can deepen their suffering.

Over the years, I kept noticing a troubling pattern: clients would often make slow, steady progress in our sessions, but their transformations didn't always hold once they left my office. As a young therapist, I turned the microscope on myself. Maybe I needed more experience, better training, sharper questions. So I pursued every certification, read every new approach, refined my technique obsessively. But after all that training and effort, the pattern persisted. My colleagues saw it too—we'd compare notes over coffee, searching for answers that never came.

That's when it hit me: this wasn't about the therapist, the client, or even the modality. The system itself was built on a flawed assumption—that everyone heals on the same timeline, in the same format, at the same pace.

With this realization, I set aside the playbook and began listening more deeply—to the quiet wisdom my clients already carried. I realized that most people intuitively know what their healing needs to look like; they just need the space and safety to trust their inner voice. As I leaned into this new approach, something shifted—not just in our therapeutic relationship, but in their clarity, confidence, and capacity for transformation.

What I've realized is both simple and complex: we're all wired differently, and what we need to grow changes over time. We need different things at different stages of our transformation and healing journey.

I've watched the same piece of insight fall flat in month six of therapy, only to become a life-changing realization in year two—for the exact same client. The difference wasn't the message. It was the timing. Their nervous system wasn't ready, their life hadn't yet made space for it, or they simply needed to hear it in a different way.

But there was something else I kept noticing—something that went beyond timing and learning styles.

Clients were having real breakthroughs in session—deep, meaningful moments of clarity—but many struggled to sustain that transformation once they left my office. Some would drift back into old patterns within weeks. Others would make progress for months, then plateau or backslide when life got hard.

At first, I thought it was about the method—maybe they needed more tools, more accountability, a different therapeutic approach. And sometimes, that was true. But often, it was something deeper. Something the mental health field doesn't have good language for yet.

Here's what I noticed: clients who had some form of grounding beyond therapy—whether meditation, faith, nature connection, or even a personal philosophy about their place in the world—had transformations that lasted. They had an anchor. A "why" that reached beyond "I just want to feel better." They weren't just following my treatment plan; they were following their own inner compass.

Meanwhile, clients without that deeper foundation often made progress, then drifted. Not because they lacked effort or insight, but because there was nothing tethering their growth to something larger than the immediate problem. They were building on sand.

Traditional therapy taught me to stay neutral about spirituality—to keep it separate from "the work." But transformation isn't just psychological; it's existential. It requires you to answer deeper questions: Who am I becoming? What do I believe about my capacity to change? What guides me when things get hard?

The people who transform and stay transformed aren't just learning coping skills or choosing the right therapeutic method. They're doing both—finding the approach that fits how they learn, and connecting it to something deeper. A sense of purpose, meaning, or inner wisdom that becomes their truest guide long after our sessions end.

That's the complete picture. The right method at the right time, anchored by something deeper than the pain itself. That's what makes transformation last.

And then there was me. I was the person who kept hitting burnout over and over again, like clockwork. Every 1-2 years, I'd leave a job—not because I stopped loving the work, but because the system was breaking me. From the outside, my career looked successful. I was grateful for what I'd accomplished. I loved being a therapist. I loved the breakthroughs, the privilege of witnessing transformation. But I couldn't sustain the relentless pace, the insurance constraints, the assembly-line approach that left no room to breathe, let alone to do the deep work that actually creates lasting change.

Each time I left, I'd search for something better. A workplace with more flexibility. A role with less pressure. But the pattern kept repeating—until I realized I wasn't just searching for a better job. I was searching for a different way to live and work entirely.

So I started shedding everything that caused me stress and pain. I questioned it all—the shoulds, the supposed-tos, the way I'd been taught that being a "good therapist" meant sacrificing myself. The more I delved into my own healing, the deeper my spirituality grew. I explored personal development, coaching for myself, practices that grounded me. And somewhere in that process, I found my anchor.

Not in a system. Not in a job title. But in my own values, my own pace, my own definition of what it means to help people without losing myself.

That's when everything shifted. For the past four years, I've been able to provide therapy without burning out—not because I figured out how to work harder or manage my time better, but because I finally gave myself permission to reject the parts of the system that didn't serve me while keeping what I loved: using my mind and gifts to help people become the best versions of themselves.

I chose myself without losing my calling. I built a practice on my own terms. And in doing so, I discovered something essential: you can be both grateful for where you are and hungry for something deeper. The goal isn't just to survive or even to succeed. It's to reach peace—the kind that doesn't get shaken every time life gets hard.

The revelation came when I stopped asking "What do my clients need?" and started asking "What would I have needed in my own transformation?"

Because here's the truth therapists don't often admit: we transform too. I've done my own hard work—the kind that required me to figure out what actually worked for my brain, my nervous system, my life. And what I discovered was this: I'm not a reader. I'm a listener. Give me a podcast or an audiobook and I'll absorb it on my morning walk. Hand me a 300-page book and it sits on my nightstand for months, breeding guilt.

I would have loved a short, no-nonsense guide that cut through the noise—something that explained the essentials without making me wade through a dozen online coaches, contradictory courses, and endless YouTube rabbit holes. I would have craved a space to discuss my barriers and breakthroughs with others who got it, where I could compare notes and feel less alone in the mess of growth.

And I needed to know that choosing myself—my pace, my values, my way of working—didn't mean abandoning my purpose. It meant honoring it more deeply.

That's what this brand is built on.

Here's what I've learned: suffering often brings us closer to the deep work. Burnout broke me open. Pain woke me up. It deepened my spirituality. The struggle taught me what I truly valued and what I needed to let go. The breakdown became the breakthrough.

So no—I won't tell you the path is easy, or that you can skip the hard parts. Challenges will come. Growth often hurts before it heals. At least that’s what the therapists say.

But I also believe that things would have been so different if I didn't have to walk through it alone. If I didn't have to burn out multiple times before I found my anchor. If I didn't have to believe I was broken for struggling in my pursuit of happiness. 

The problem isn't that suffering exists on the path to peace—it's that we're taught to endure it in isolation. To wait until we're completely broken before we ask for help. To believe that the harder it is, the more "real" the transformation. And honestly, there is no diagnosis for what I was going through; it’s just called Life.

Sometimes I feel the warmth of gratitude in my sessions when I realize that my clients aren’t going through it on their own. I get to comfort them when the tears come and celebrate when their wins follow. And most importantly I get to remind them of who they are and the light that awaits at the end of the tunnel.

What if you could suffer less time? What if you had guidance while you moved through it? What if your community held you while you rebuilt? What if peace wasn't something you earned by struggling long enough alone, but something you cultivated with support, at your own pace, in ways that actually fit how you heal?

That's the key. Not whether challenges come—but how will you handle it when they do.

Therapy On My Terms was born from my own search for something deeper. I know what it’s like to be the high-achiever who’s done everything “right” and still feels empty—to read the books, watch the talks, even apply the therapy tools yourself, yet never quite find what you’re looking for. I was searching for someone who truly understood—not just the psychology, but the culture, the spirituality, and the lived experience. The unspoken pressures. The unique way we carry it all. 

And in that search, I became that person.

From that realization, this work evolved beyond me—it became a framework for others to find their own way home. I built three pathways because I refuse to believe there’s only one way to heal. Some people need the quiet structure of guided reflection and tools they can explore in solitude. Others come alive in intimate community spaces, the way our ancestors once did. And some require the depth and privacy of therapeutic coaching to access profound emotional breakthroughs. All three are valuable. All three are necessary parts of the journey. And with Therapy On My Terms, you decide what your healing journey will look like.