Vintage sewing and embroidery supplies including spools of thread, scissors, pins, embroidery floss, a sewing kit, and botanical illustrations on textured paper, arranged on a dark wooden surface.

The Work

You don’t arrive here as a human arts-and-crafts project I’m going to try to fix.

Maybe something happened.
Maybe something keeps happening.
Maybe life looks fine from the outside and feels like a dumpster fire on the inside.

You don’t have to know exactly what’s “wrong.” We can start with what’s actually in the room.

WHAT WAS. ◆ WHAT IS. ◆ WHAT MAY YET BE.

We’ll get curious about what happened (or didn’t happen), what’s happening now, and what might still be possible.

Sometimes that means noticing old ways of surviving that aren’t serving you quite as well anymore. Sometimes it means realizing you’ve been standing in somebody else’s muddy water for far too long. Sometimes we discover that some of whatever “this” is may, in fact, be your junk.

I’m not going to be hiding in the bushes of your life story waiting to yell “DEFENSE MECHANISM!” I’m not in a hurry to take away the things that have helped you survive.

I may get curious about them, though. And draw our attention to patterns and recurring themes.

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO SCARE ME.

Bring the endless grief. The red-hot anger. The shame. The thing you’ve never told anyone, and the other thing you thought you’d be over by now. The dark joke you probably shouldn’t make but absolutely can make here.

You can even spend the first six sessions carefully constructing a highly competent, reasonably well-adjusted, overcomer extraordinaire version of yourself for me. I’ll wait.

It is, after all, your money.

I’m not the one you need to convince that you can be your real self here.

You have to decide whether I’m someone you can trust enough to be honest with so that we can get to work on your preferred “what may yet be.”

That may take a little time. I’m okay with that if you are.