Only if you think therapists are supposed to have it all figured out, which, spoiler, is the exact myth that burns so many of us out. You spend your days holding other people's nervous systems; the idea that you'd never need somewhere to set yours down is the strange part.

Working with a therapist who gets it can actually be a relief. There's no need to explain what countertransference is, or why a hard termination wrecked you, or what it costs to sit with grief for a living. We can skip the glossary and get to you. And no, being "seen" by a peer isn't exposing, it's what most of us are quietly starving for.

No. And if that's what you were hoping for, I'll gently disappoint you. Knowing the tools is precisely why you can't reliably use them on yourself; you're too close, and your own protections are fluent in exactly the same language.

You don't need me to teach you grounding techniques. You need a space where you don't have to be the competent one, where I can reflect the things your training lets you intellectualize right past. I'll validate what's real and stay curious about what you're stepping around. Think of it less as "the tools don't work on me" and more as "I finally get to put them down and let someone else drive."

This is therapy — full stop. You're the client, and the work is about you: your inner world, your history, your nervous system, the parts of you that got you into this field and the parts that are tired.

That's a different thing from clinical supervision, which is about your cases and your professional development toward licensure. I offer that too, but it lives on its own Supervision page with its own agreement, and we keep the two cleanly separate. If you're a prelicensed associate looking to accrue hours, that's the page you want. If you're a clinician who needs your own therapy, you're in the right place. And no, I won't be your therapist and your supervisor. Wearing both hats at once is a boundary I don't blur.

No. This is your therapy, not a review board. I'm not your supervisor, I'm not evaluating your competence, and I have no duty or desire to report your clinical work, your mistakes, your messy countertransference, or your 2 a.m. "did I handle that right?" spirals to your licensing board or anyone else. Being able to speak freely about the work is much of the point.

Our sessions carry the same confidentiality as any therapy, with the same well-known legal limits every clinician learns in grad school: imminent risk of serious harm to yourself or an identifiable other, suspected abuse or neglect of a child or vulnerable adult (I'm a mandated reporter, exactly as you are), and a valid court order signed by a judge. Those apply to anyone's therapy, not something special about yours. Short of those, what you say about your practice stays between us.

In our field? Almost a given. The affirming, somatic, queer/trans clinical world in the Pacific Northwest is more of a village than a metropolis. Shared colleagues, trainings, or a supervisor two degrees removed is common and, on its own, not a problem.

What matters is that we don't have a relationship that would compromise your care. So in our consultation, we'll talk openly about any overlap and whether it creates a real conflict. If I currently supervise you, employ you, or am close enough to your world that it'd muddy the water, I'll say so and help you find someone better positioned. Where overlap is minor, we simply name it, set clear expectations about confidentiality and running into each other at the same conference, and proceed with those boundaries. You'll never have to manage that awkwardness alone; holding it cleanly is my job.