Without the therapeutic relationship…not much else can get done.

Trust. Safety. Rapport. Empathy. Connection.

Before we can unpack the anxiety, the friendship breakup, the situationship, the family stuff, the identity questions, or the “why the hell do I keep doing this?” moments… there has to be a relationship where you feel safe enough to actually be known.

That’s a big part of why my approach is relational and client-centered.

Relational therapy looks at how our relationships—past and present—shape the way we see ourselves, connect with others, communicate, set boundaries, handle conflict, and move through the world.

Because we don’t develop in a vacuum.

The way you learned to be loved.
The way you learned to ask for what you need.
The way you learned to protect yourself.
The relationships that made you feel seen—and the ones that didn’t.

All of it can show up in the room.

And therapy can become a place to notice those patterns, get curious about them, and—maybe for the first time—experience a relationship where you don’t have to perform, people-please, shrink yourself, or have it all figured out.

Sometimes the therapeutic relationship is the work.

Attachment theory is basically the “why the hell do I do this?” of relationships.

It can help us understand how our earliest relationships shaped the way we connect, communicate, handle conflict, experience closeness, and navigate romantic relationships today.

And no, knowing your attachment style doesn’t mean you’re doomed to repeat your patterns forever.

It means you have a little more information. Dating is all about data.

Why do I feel anxious when someone pulls away?
Why do I suddenly lose interest when someone gets close?
Why do I overthink every text?
Why does consistency sometimes feel boring… while uncertainty feels exciting?
Why do I keep finding myself in the same kind of relationship?

An attachment-informed lens gives us a way to get curious about those patterns without shaming ourselves for having them.

Because the goal isn't to become “perfectly secure” or never feel anxious in a relationship again.

It’s learning to recognize your patterns, understand where they came from, communicate what you need, build relationships that actually feel safe and reciprocal, and make choices that align with who you are now—not just what you learned in the past.

Your attachment history can explain you.

It doesn't have to define you. 🤍

And yes, two things can be true: your patterns make complete sense and you can choose something different.

You are not one version of yourself.

You have parts.

The part of you who wants to be independent.
The singly girly part.
The part who overthinks everything.
The part who says “I’m fine” when you are very much not fine.
The inner child part.
The perfectionist part.
The people-pleasing part.
The student part.
The friend part.
The daughter part.
The part of you that wants companionship.
The ambitious part.
The exhausted part.

And sometimes those parts want completely different things. Insert the mental tug of war we sometimes feel.

Parts work is about getting curious about those different pieces of ourselves rather than judging them or trying to silence them.

What is this part trying to tell me?

What is it afraid might happen?

What is it trying to protect me from?

When did I first learn that I needed this part? (This one is my personal fav).

Because even the parts of you that feel frustrating, irrational, or “too much” usually developed for a reason.

There are no. bad. parts.

The anxious part might be trying to keep you from getting blindsided.

The perfectionist part might be trying to protect you from criticism or rejection.

The people-pleasing part might be trying to keep you connected to others.

The part that wants to run the second someone gets close might be trying to protect you from getting hurt.

The goal isn't to get rid of these parts.

It's to listen to them.

To understand them.

To help them feel safe enough that they don't have to run the whole show.

Therapy doesn't always have to look like talking for 50 minutes.

Sometimes we're making a vision board.

Sometimes we're making a playlist. (Team Apple Music).

Sometimes we're sorting through values cards to identify our core values in dating.

Sometimes we're journaling.

Sometimes we're using a card game to get into the conversation that feels way too awkward to start with, “So… tell me about your feelings.”

And sometimes we're laughing. A lot.

There isn't one “right” way to do therapy.

I pull from a few different approaches depending on what you need, because sometimes we need to change the thought, sometimes we need to accept the feeling, and sometimes our nervous system needs to calm the heck down.

CBT:
Let’s look at the thoughts running the show.
Can we challenge the story your brain keeps telling you and create a little more space between the thought and the truth?

ACT:
Sometimes life deals us a hand we absolutely did not ask for.

So instead of spending all our energy wishing we had different cards, we can ask: What matters to me? What do I want to stand for? How can I build a meaningful life with the hand I’ve been given?

Mindfulness + Nervous System Work:
Sometimes you can know you're safe and your body hasn't gotten the memo yet.

We can learn to notice what your body is communicating, understand your nervous system's responses, and build tools that help you come back to a place of regulation. Insert, ‘the ampersand anchor’ a way to create your own panic attack toolkit.

If you’ve ever thought, “I know I’m safe now… so why does my body still react like I’m not?” — EMDR might be something worth learning about.

EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, and it’s a therapy approach often used to help people process traumatic or distressing experiences.

Instead of spending session after session talking through every detail of something painful, EMDR uses a process called bilateral stimulation—which can include eye movements, tapping, or sounds—while you briefly focus on a difficult memory, thought, feeling, or body sensation.

The goal?

To help your brain reprocess the experience so that the memory can become less emotionally overwhelming and feel more like something that happened rather than something that is still happening.

Healing isn't about erasing what happened.

It's about helping the past take up less space in your present.