Hospitality runs deep in my bones. I’ve mentioned it in my bio, and it may leave you wondering why that’s worth mentioning in a therapist’s About Me section. I believe it tells you more about how I practice therapy than the rest of my credentials, and I hope this blog post explains why.
Many people enter the therapy world as a second career, quite a few of them from other helping professions like teaching, nonprofits, or social work. Therapy is my third career, my first following that trend with nonprofit management. I entered that world with a fiery passion to help and left with disillusionment fueled by burnout. The nonprofit world is a codependent’s heaven and hell. It woos the depths of your soul, but the boundaryless often run themselves ragged in their performance, caretaking, and rescuing to the point of no repair. More on that to come when we address codependency and boundaries.
My second career felt far more authentic. I entered the hospitality world with a hunger for more knowledge about food and wine, two things that speak to me in a way I can only describe as spiritual. I experience hospitality as the language of belonging, the table as the holy space we gather to connect and commune, and food and wine as catalysts of conversation and togetherness that cultivate a seenness and knownness we all desperately long for and need.
The table offers us the unique opportunity to return to what we were made for, if we allow it.
I worked the front desk at a hotel downtown, baked bread at a local bakery, and finally landed a hosting gig at one of the best restaurants in town and later at their sister restaurant. The years I spent behind the host stand, winding my way between tables, bussing and setting, arranging flowers, greeting and exit greeting, refilling waters, answering questions, making special arrangements, and curating an environment that feels like home taught me more about being a therapist than I ever could have imagined.
On paper, my job was to get everyone seated and everyone out, curating a floor plan and adjusting and executing it throughout service, allowing us to serve as many people as we could in an exceptional but efficient way. In reality, my job was to cultivate an atmosphere of safety, acceptance, and belonging from the moment you entered our door until the moment you left.
I offered warmth and human connection to calm your anxiety, a safe place to land in moments of exhaustion and overwhelm (if you’ve ever stood by the bar at Rolf and Daughters on a Saturday night at 8pm pre-pandemic you know exactly what I’m talking about), clarity, direction, and solutions to seemingly unanswerable problems (like showing up on a fully booked night with a party of 10 when the reservation was only made for 4), and unconditional acceptance that dims feelings of inadequacy in a space that could lead you to question your belonging or worth.
I was there to welcome you home – to your authentic self and to authentic connection with the people at your table.
I was there to help you get to your table so you could be with your people.
I was there to usher you into experiencing all you were made for.
I didn’t make the magic. The magic was always at the table. The magic was always what happened when you showed up to it, fully and wholeheartedly. The magic was at the table because the magic was in you. I merely welcomed you and walked you to the place where you could find it within.
I was there for a limited amount of time. The goal was never to keep you. You were always meant to leave after you got what you came for. You would take the experience with you, but not me. We would always have a beginning and an end. One day you would forget me, and that would be good.
Or perhaps you would return because you needed to be there again. I was there to remember you. To remember the details others forget. To greet you by name and help you find everything you want and need. I had notes to help make that happen. Even still, you’d find more magic within and leave again.
This is who I am in the therapy room.
Everything I have learned from hospitality draws me to person-centered therapy, a theory that believes given the right environment, humans are naturally capable of and bent toward growth, change, self-understanding, and self-actualization. The magic is already in you, you just need the table to experience it.
I set the table with unconditional acceptance, genuineness, and empathy.
I cultivate a space of safety, connection, and belonging, where you can come just as you are, right where you are, but the secret ingredient is you. That’s where the magic of therapy happens – in relationship and in you.
My job is just as much about walking you to the table as it as about walking you out the door. A good meal requires lingering. Life around the table is not something we rush. If you’re looking for fast food therapy, you won’t find it here. Think multiple courses with wine pairings that build, followed by dessert and coffee, maybe an amaro – because there is just too much goodness to leave untasted, unfinished. Likewise, I believe good therapy takes time. Short-term therapy isn’t my cup of tea because the layers underneath bring transformation just too powerful to leave untouched.
My couch is your couch as long as you need. Linger. Eat. Drink. Go as slow as you need to experience and process each emotion like taking in all the flavors of every sip and bite. Part of my job remains making sure you leave, and like stopping by to clear plates and ask what else you need, all the while I’ll be preparing you to walk out my door.
My couch is open.
To the weary and exhausted, the burnt out and empty, the lonely and restless.
My couch is open.
To the insecure and isolated, the hopeless and disheartened, the disillusioned and done.
My couch is open.
To the anxious and afraid, the questioning and confused, the uncertain and in between.
My couch is open.
To the grieving and brokenhearted, the self-doubting and self-loathing, the lost and the stuck.
My couch is open.
The magic of therapy is in relationship and in you. Together, I believe we can move toward wild hope, authentic connection, and wholeheartedness. I’d be honored and delighted to host you on this journey, walk you to the table of healing and transformation, and empower you to confidently walk out my door.
Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.