“Why do people behave the way they do?”
I remember staring at this sign in my high school psychology class and thinking, “Finally, someone had asked the question I had been asking myself for years.” I was never satisfied with simple answers. But to get better answers, I had to ask better questions. The depth of the human experience has always fascinated me. And I learned that the more curious I became, the more there was of humans to be understood.
It took me a few years, and even a detour into human resources, to realize that what I wanted most was to spend my life embodying this very question. I wanted to build an arsenal of tools, not just to understand people, but to help them understand themselves. I wanted to become a kind of walking safe space where some people could come and explore questions about themselves, without fear of judgment or oversimplified answers.
Like many other people’s passions, my passion for this work was born out of a deep, personal need. I experienced brokenness in every crucial relationship during my most formative years. My relationships with my family, with myself, and even with God had been fractured, and I was left wondering who I really was beneath all the pain. I couldn’t make sense of the things that had happened in my life, much less of the resulting impact they had on me. But the Lord hadn’t finished writing my story.
Since then, God has guided me out of the desolate place and led me to life. He has mended many broken things and restored the brokenness I had carried for so long. He planted me in relationships that nourish, heal, and strengthen me.
The more rooted I became in Christ, the more eager I became to give others what He had given me. For a season, I did this the best way I knew how: through mentoring other young women and leading small groups in my church. However, I continued to long for a more skillful approach to help others experience the kind of understanding that can lead to lasting change. Through the mentorship of leaders and pastors in my community, my longing to pursue a degree in counseling became clearer.
That gentle curiosity shapes how I show up in the counseling room. I desire to cultivate a space where we can pause and look inward, where questions are welcomed, and where the complexities of a person’s story are honored as they pursue healing and change. Throughout my education and training, I have developed a deep appreciation for the tempered pace that lasting change often requires. The change we long for can be achieved when we make room to reflect, feel, and make meaning of our experience.
My hope is that, together, we can begin to map out your inner world. Like a cartographer surveying unknown terrain, we’ll trace the contours of your emotional and mental landscape, naming what has long gone unnamed, and discovering what’s been waiting to be seen.