Frequently asked questions
Do I need to be in crisis to start therapy?
No. And if you are, that’s welcome, too. Some people come because something acute has happened: a loss, a rupture, a diagnosis, a life that came apart faster than they could process it. Others come because nothing is obviously wrong and something still feels off. Often it’s the person others rely on, who’s started to sense that holding it all together has cost them something. Curiosity about your own life is reason enough, and so is a life that just shifted under you.
Can therapy help if nothing is really "wrong"?
Yes. You don’t have to be suffering to grow. Some of the most meaningful work happens when someone suspects there’s more to their life than they’ve been able to reach, and decides to go looking.
I’m going through a major life change. Is this the kind of thing you work with?
Yes. In fact, it’s often what brings people in. Much of my work is with adults navigating the passages that reorganize a life: becoming a parent, or watching a child leave home; the end of a relationship, or the slow unraveling of one; caring for an aging parent, or facing your own aging; retirement, or the loss of an identity built around work; a diagnosis, a death, a milestone birthday. These moments are often called “transitions,” as if the task is simply to get from one side to the other. But they can shake loose the assumptions an entire life is built on—about who you are, what matters, and what comes next. Sometimes there’s no single event at all, just a growing sense that the way you’ve been living no longer fits. Therapy can be a place to make sense of what’s shifted, to grieve what’s been lost, and to find your footing again, not by manufacturing certainty, but by discovering what you actually want on the ground you’re standing on now.
What if I understand my patterns but still can't change them?
You may already have a pretty good idea of where a pattern came from—you can trace it back to childhood, explain why you developed it, and recognize when you're doing it. And yet, knowing why you do something doesn't necessarily make it possible to do something different. Part of the work is moving from understanding yourself to finding out what you want to do with that understanding. We slow things down enough to notice what is actually happening beneath the familiar explanations—to distinguish what you genuinely want from what you've learned to want, what you're choosing from what you're simply continuing, and what matters to you from what you've been taught should matter.
From there, change often begins not with a grand decision but with a different kind of attention: noticing a possibility, trying something new, discovering what feels more like you, and letting experience teach you what thinking alone can't. Therapy isn't about finding the perfect explanation for yourself. It's about making enough sense of where you've been that you have more freedom in deciding where you go next.
What is existential therapy?
It's therapy concerned with more than symptom relief—though relief often comes. Rather than treating a problem in isolation, we look at the whole shape of a life: the patterns underneath the presenting concern, the questions of meaning and direction that live beneath the day-to-day, the ways you've learned to cope that may no longer serve you. Depth-oriented means we don't stay only on the surface of what's wrong. Existential means we take seriously the big questions—freedom, meaning, mortality, connection—as they actually show up in your life.
I've written a longer explanation of existential therapy and what it looks like in practice here.
What if I've tried therapy before and it didn't help?
Sometimes earlier therapy didn't help because it wasn't the right fit, or the right time, or the right depth. And sometimes the symptoms eased but something underneath never quite shifted—the same patterns kept returning, or the relief didn't reach the questions and relationships that mattered most. In those cases, it can be worth going deeper, or differently. The work I do stays with what the struggle is connected to, not just the struggle itself. A previous experience that fell short doesn't mean therapy can't help you. It sometimes means a different kind of therapy is called for.
What if I'm not sure what I want to work on?
Figuring it out is part of the work rather than a prerequisite for it. You don't have to arrive with your concerns already named and organized. Some people come with a clear question; others come with a sense that something's off and no words for it yet. Often the naming is the first thing we do together.
What's a consultation like?
It's a free, 15-minute call—no intake forms, no preparation, nothing to get right. Mostly it's a chance to hear each other's voices and see whether there's a fit. You can tell me a little about what's on your mind, ask me anything you'd like about how I work, and get a feel for whether I'm someone you could imagine talking to. There's no obligation to book, and if I'm not the right person, I'm glad to point you elsewhere. Finding the right therapist matters more than finding one quickly. If we decide to work together, the first session is where we begin in earnest.
What happens in a first session?
The first session looks different from the ones that follow. It's the most structured hour we'll spend together, and the only one I come to with my own agenda. We'll cover some necessary ground: reviewing consent and policies, a bit of history, and the kinds of questions that help me understand what's going on and how I can help. It's more directed than open-ended, by design. From there, the work opens up—subsequent sessions are far less scripted, led by what matters to you rather than by a form or a checklist. Think of the first session as laying the foundation. After that, the work becomes much less structured and much more responsive to what's happening between us.
How long does therapy take?
It depends on what you're looking for, and I won't pretend to know at the outset. Some people come with a specific question and find what they need in a few months. Others are drawn to longer, open-ended work—the kind that doesn't resolve a single problem so much as change your relationship to yourself over time. Depth work tends to unfold rather than conclude on a schedule. We'll talk openly about pacing and direction as we go, and you're always free to decide you've gotten what you came for.
How often would we meet?
Most clients meet weekly, especially at the start—consistency is part of what makes the work possible. Some shift to every other week once things are more settled. We'll find the rhythm that fits you.
Do you meet in person or online?
All sessions are online, by secure video, and I see adults located anywhere in Washington State. Telehealth makes depth work accessible from wherever you are—no commute, no waiting room, just a private space where you can talk comfortably.
What if I need help right away?
I’m not able to provide crisis or emergency services, and my schedule doesn’t allow for same-day availability. If you’re in immediate danger, call 911. For 24/7 mental health crisis support, call or text 988. If you’re going through something urgent and need care sooner or more intensively than weekly telehealth can provide, in-person support or a higher level of care may serve you better, and I’m glad to point you toward options. Otherwise, you can reach out whenever you’re ready and I’ll respond within one to two business days.
Do you use AI in your practice?
No. I don’t use AI scribes, automated note-takers, or AI tools to write your clinical documentation, treatment plans, or our correspondence. Our sessions are not recorded or transcribed by any automated system. What passes between us is held by a person, thought about by a person, and written up by a person. I mention this because it’s an increasingly reasonable thing to wonder about. Many practices now use AI tools that listen to or process session content, and you deserve to know that this one doesn’t. The reflection and clinical judgment your care depends on aren’t something I outsource to technologies we don’t fully control or comprehend.
Are you a psychologist? Can you prescribe medication?
No and no. I'm a Licensed Mental Health Counselor Associate, practicing under clinical supervision. My doctorate is in psychology—a research and scholarship degree—while my clinical training and license are at the master’s level in counseling. I don't prescribe medication. If medication is something you're considering, I'm happy to coordinate with a prescriber, and many clients find that therapy and medication work well alongside each other.
Do you take insurance?
I'm private-pay, with some support for using out-of-network benefits. I’m also working toward in-network options. You'll find current details, fees, and out-of-network guidance on the Fees page.
How do I get started?
The first step is a free 15-minute consultation. If what you've read here resonates, reach out—I'd be glad to hear from you.