20 Things I’ve Learned In 10 Years As A Therapist

20 Things I've Learned In 10 Years As A Therapist

Mental Health & Wellness • January 5, 2020

LAST UPDATED: APRIL 2026

Last reviewed: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT

Relational trauma is the emotional injury that comes from painful or harmful experiences within your most important relationships. With parents, partners, or close friends. That disrupt your ability to trust, feel safe, and connect deeply. It is not about isolated bad moments or a single fight; it’s about patterns of hurt that leave lasting imprints on how you see yourself and others. This matters deeply for you because carrying relational trauma can quietly undercut your confidence and your relationships, even when everything looks fine on the outside. Naming it clearly is the first step toward understanding how your past continues to shape your present, so you can begin to build safety and connection from a place of truth, not shame or confusion.

• You may be carrying relational trauma that quietly undermines your ability to fully trust and connect, even if your life looks successful and put-together on the outside.
• Healing is not a straight path; it demands your patience as you unlearn old patterns rooted in past relational wounds while learning new ways to relate to yourself and others.
• Understanding that growth involves holding both your achievements and your internal struggles at once creates space for deeper healing and more authentic self-compassion in your journey.

Happy New Year!

I wonder how you are doing and what this turn of the year and turn of the decade is bringing up for you?

Honestly, it escaped my attention until about mid-December that a decade was ending and that this new year was significant in that occasional calendrical way. 

But, once I got present to the turning of the decade, I started reflecting on all that had happened in my life in the 2010’s and really, how monumental of a decade it was for me. 

1. I think the major theme of it was building.
2. I was jumping at the bit to be a therapist and thought I was totally ready to do so.
3. These last ten years have been humbling in terms of all that I’ve learned and unlearned.
4. 20 Things I’ve Learned In 10 Years As A Therapist
5. Signs You May Be Carrying Relational Trauma
6. Learning From A Decade of Therapeutic Wisdom
7. Wrapping up.

What was the major theme of Annie’s first decade as a therapist?

Building my little family. Because it’s the decade where I met and married my husband. Had my precious daughter. And planted roots in the community that would become our home.

And building, too, because 2010 was the year I started grad school to become a therapist.

Looking back at who I was when I entered grad school, I’m reminded of the so-called Rumsfeld matrix that organizes what is known and unknown to individuals (and organizations) into a four-quadrant matrix.

Effectively, you don’t know what you don’t know. You don’t know what you know. You know what you know. And you know what you don’t know. 

I remember arriving at my graduate school’s Fall intensive experience. (Held at the beautiful IONS center in Petaluma, CA.) Admittedly a little bit naive and holding the mindset of “put me in coach, I’m READY!”

What does it feel like to begin your career as a therapist thinking you’re ready. And then discover how much you don’t know?

Because I had lived at Esalen for three years by that point. I thought I was well-steeped and well-practiced in psychology, process, facilitation, and personal work.

And part of that was true: Esalen was a sort of “pre-grad school” grad school for me.

But still, it’s safe to say that when I started grad school, I was still mostly in the “you don’t know what you don’t know” quadrant of the matrix despite all that amazing lived-out experience.

Learning not only the psychological theories, interventions, tools, and nuances of my craft was a practical vertical learning curve through grad school, traineeship, and my many clinical internships. 

But also doing my own personal work to become a more grounded, more compassionate, more present, more empathetic and more effective helper was another learning curve on its own that took the remainder of the decade (and that will last a lifetime still).

These last ten years have been humbling in terms of all that I’ve learned and unlearned.

How much I’ve been forced to grow as a person and as a clinician. And humbling, too, because even with over 25,000 hours of clinical work under my belt now, there’s still so much to learn and master in my field.

Still, though, despite how much there is yet to master, I’ve certainly learned a fair bit in ten years. 

And today I want to share with you twenty highlights of key insights I’ve learned in a decade of doing this work. 

It’s a love letter to what I understand in the “you know what you know” quadrant, all the while knowing that, in this work of becoming a masterful therapist, I still often stand in the “you know what you don’t know quadrant.”

I look forward to sharing with you what I know now, and what I may come to know further down the road.

For now, Happy New Year!

20 Things I’ve Learned In 10 Years As A Therapist

1) No matter where you’re starting from, change is possible.

I consider this the unofficial tagline of my business because I believe in this so strongly. You can come from the most traumatic, chaotic, neglectful and unsupportive background, you can have devastating experiences happen to you and you can accumulate decades of grief and defenses, and, it is still possible to face, address, grieve, and transform those hurts and wounds to move forward and create a life that feels more stable, more connected, and more enlivened.

We humans are remarkably resilient, resourceful, and graced with neuroplasticity. Meaning our literal neural structures can change up until the day we die. Take comfort from this if you’re feeling stuck. There is always the possibility of change.

2) It’s not all our parents’ fault AND our early influences and past experiences can still impact us greatly in the present.

Therapists and my field in general sometimes get a bad rap with folks assuming that, in therapy, we’re just going to make them talk about their parents so we can blame it all on them. That’s not entirely true. Everything is not your parents’ fault and yet it is important for a therapist to know and understand your early childhood experiences because that’s where we all tend to form our attachment patterns and many life and relational introjects.

Your parents and early childhood experiences were (and possibly are) a strong influence on you, but the goal here isn’t to blame your early caregivers; it’s to understand how they impacted you so we can help you make better and different choices moving forward if that’s called for.

3) Most parents are truly doing their best. However, “best” is highly subjective and it may still unintentionally harm a child.

Nothing has humbled me more and given me a wider window into my clinical work more so than becoming a parent myself. This parenting stuff can be HARD. And my lived out experiences in conjunction with what I’ve seen clinically over the years really has instilled me with a faith that most parents (aside from rare and more extreme circumstances) are truly doing their best and love their kids in their own ways.

However, “best” is highly subjective. What may look like the “best” a parent can offer may, in fact, be unintentionally hurtful and still negatively impact a child deeply. Both things can be true.

4) Trauma is subjective and trauma can be relational in nature.

I didn’t know of the terms developmental trauma, complex trauma, or relational trauma before entering grad school. Like most people, I assumed that trauma was something that could be more easily pinpointed. The 9/11 attacks, a plane crash, a rape.

What I now know is that trauma can be a single event or a set of ongoing conditions that overwhelm an individual’s ability to deal with the stress. In this way, trauma is subjective so what may be traumatic to one person might not be traumatic to another and, importantly, this widened definition means, too, that trauma can happen inside relationships over time.

Being raised by a depressive, withdrawn, avoidant and unaffectionate parent may be traumatic to someone. So might being parented by an alcoholic who seemed like Dr. Jekyll one moment and Mr. Hyde the next. It’s common for many people to dismiss their early childhood experiences as not being traumatic if they hold the mindset of only single, tangible events “counting” as traumas.

It’s important, I think, for all of us to hold a wider lens on what trauma really is so we can honor our experiences and our potential suffering and receive the right kind of support we need.

5) Trauma can be inter-generational.

Trauma and trauma responses can be passed down the family line(s), one person’s maladaptive trauma responses influencing another (often unconsciously) until one member of the family is willing to face the past, get curious, and do the deep healing work required to halt the perpetuation of the trauma cycle. Don’t underestimate how important doing your own personal healing work is. It can change the course of your family lines for generations to come.

6) It’s actually not the trauma itself that becomes the issue.

This is another key thing I learned in my work: it’s not that the traumatic experiences themselves that lead to negative outcomes; it’s the lack of metabolizing and integrating the traumatic experiences that can then lead to problems down the road. An individual. Be they an adult or child. Who is properly supported in feeling their feelings, making meaning of their experience, and processing and psychologically and physiologically metabolizing the trauma can move forward despite the trauma in constructive, adaptive ways.

When this supportive processing and integration doesn’t happen, however, we are more prone to see the longlasting negative impact of traumatic experiences.

7) All of our behaviors, no matter how destructive they seem, were (and are) meant to support us.

Please hear me: you come by your behaviors. Even and especially the ones that you feel ashamed and frustrated by. Honestly. Those behaviors were, once upon a time, likely once an appropriate response and probably a very clever and strategic way of taking care of yourself when you couldn’t get your needs met in other ways. It’s just that now those same behaviors may not be working so well. And that’s okay. We can now do the work in therapy to help you identify and cultivate more choices and resources to help you manage your experience differently now.

8) Relationships can wound, and they can also heal.

Dovetailing with point number three, while relationships can be a great source of pain, relationships of the right kind and quality can also heal. What is the kind of relationship that heals? Likely one in which there is safety, positive regard, acceptance, attunement, patience, and care for the person. Given the right kind of relational conditions, we will, I truly believe, grow and thrive and intuitively move towards psychological health and resilience.

9) It’s not the quantity of contact that counts; it’s the quality of contact that counts.

It’s not the quantity of contact that counts; it’s the quality of contact that counts. One thing I appreciate so much as a working mom is a key point that I understand from my trauma studies: the quality of relational contact you bring to someone matters more than the quantity of contact. You can spend all day in the house with a child and objectively “be there” with your body in the same space.

But if you’re withdrawn and not engaging with the child, if you’re not demonstrating warmth and affection, if you’re four glasses of wine into the bottle, then the quality of your presence likely isn’t high. However, if when you come home from work after being apart from your child for eight hours, despite being tired you do your best to attune to your child, to be affectionate, warm, and playful, then you’re providing a good quality of contact even if the quantity wasn’t as high as you would have liked that day.

Remember. Especially all of you working parents prone to guilt out there. It’s the quality of contact, not the quantity that counts.

10) We’re all hard-wired for connection and contact. And also, if relationships were easy, my whole field wouldn’t exist.

“But, Annie,” I often get asked/told, “shouldn’t this be easy for me? Why is getting along with my husband/mom/sister/boss so hard?” “Because,” I often say, “if relationships were easy my entire field wouldn’t exist.” It’s a playful answer, I know, but I don’t mean it flippantly. The very tricky thing for all us is that, from the time we’re born, we’re driven to connect with others. But also, connecting with others (for a multitude of reasons) can be really challenging! Between our own patterns/preferences/needs/wants/unconscious trauma responses and those of another person, conflicts can happen, relational misses can occur, feelings can get hurt, and our desire to feel connected can go thwarted.

It may not happen all of the time, but it likely happens enough of the time to keep most therapists I know booked and busy and people asking that question again and again, “Why is this relationship so hard?” Again, relationships are deeply meaningful and fulfilling but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re easy.

11) Long-term romantic relationships take WORK.

If anyone ever tells you that long-term romantic relationships “should” be easy and that if it’s hard it means you’re not with the right person, I want you to take this with a GIANT grain of salt. Everyone I’ve ever met who has been in a long-term relationship (I’m talking over 7-10 years) has said that their relationship can feel challenging at times, that it takes work and patience and forgiveness and a constant kind of re-choosing of one another daily, weekly, etc.

See point number 10 and then add into this dual careers, commutes, kids, chronic sleep deprivation from said kids, bills, student loans, urban housing costs, in-laws, aging bodies, waning libidos, etc.. Please do not berate yourself if long-term romantic relationship sometimes (or often) feels hard, lonely, isolating, and like a grind.

I’m not saying this means that you have to stay in your relationship (I think a successful marriage can be one that ends just as much as one that endures!) nor am I saying that the challenges of your relationship are fixed and can’t be worked through, but I do think that we need to have a more normalized view of how hard most long-term relationships feel some (or a lot) of the time. I think we would all feel a lot less lonely if we talked about this more.

12) The way we do one thing is often the way we do many things.

I think that there are clues contained in how we eat, how we travel, how we spend our money and/or how we approach working out. As seemingly innocuous as these content areas may be, they often contain clues and information about our patterns of moving through the world which likely extend to other areas of your life.

For example: binge eating, binge traveling, and playing hard/working hard patterning may reflect back to you a larger pattern of pushing, overdoing, and extremism that you need and want to pay attention to. If you want to be curious about psychological patterns in your life, start paying attention to your relationship to different content areas of your life. It may be illuminating.=

13) The goal is to expand our containers and to increase our capacities.

I know you know this but it bears repeating: we’re not going to eliminate life’s problems and challenges. That’s baked into our human experience. So the goal in therapy isn’t to make all the problems in your life go away. The goal in therapy is to help you expand your capacity and proverbial “emotional container”. To handle more and more of life’s inherent challenges.

14) One of the keys to a more enlivened life is learning how to feel your feelings. And using them for the information they contain.

Some of us have come to believe. Thanks to messaging from families-of-origin, the media, the Patriarchy, and the communities around us. That feelings like anger, jealousy, despair are “bad” and that we should “just have a positive mindset.” I truly believe that all feelings are important and that they contain good information for us. Moreover, when we help ourselves learn to feel emotions in our bodies, we support ourselves. Not only to live a more enlivened life. But to take the information that our emotions contain and to make informed, self-supporting decisions from them. This is a skill and it can be learned.

15) Boundaries are foundational to healing and to living a well-lived life.

Boundaries are the protective, unseen, force fields of our lives. They are physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, and even financial in nature. They flex and change moment to moment, situation to situation, and person to person. Our personal boundaries are meant to keep us safe, whole, and physically and psychologically healthy. Because of this, learning what your individual boundaries are and learning how to assert them is one of the most foundational and self-supporting things you can do for yourself in your personal work.

16) Estrangement and disownment from family-of-origin is far more common than you might imagine.

And certainly more so than society often talks about. So often, folks going through estrangements and disownments with their family-of-origin or in-laws feel isolated and alone in their experience. We live in a world that is very much pro-family. And that expects you to have close, connected, and loyal family relationships no matter what.

But what if your family or a family member is dysfunctional, abusive, or not safe to be around? Then what? It’s common to feel “other” when and if you choose to estrange yourself from someone. Or when you yourself have been estranged. But what I will tell you from a decade of doing this work is that estrangement, disownment, and emotional and physical cut-offs from family-of-origin and in-laws are far more common than you might realize. So if you feel alone in your experience right now, I assure you, you’re most definitely not.

17) You can forgive someone and you can still elect not to have them in your life.

I personally don’t believe that you ever “have to” forgive someone. But it’s also important to say that when and if you do by your own choice arrive at forgiving someone who has hurt you in your past, you still do not have to let them into your life. You can forgive someone and keep them out of your life. It’s not either/or, it’s both/and.

18) We can’t talk about improving our mental health without talking about soul.

This aspect of mental health. Nourishing our soul and filling our lives with meaning, purpose, and fulfillment. Is not something that the DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. The bedrock clinical textbook of my field) takes into account when someone shows up in therapy looking for support with anxiety management, depression, or bulimia. We have to create a treatment plan for them. But I truly believe that we have to talk about the soul and tend to it. Just as much as we might make a plan to manage symptoms and reduce maladaptive behaviors. In order to support someone’s well-being.

We’re living in a time where suicide rates and deaths by chemical use and substance abuse continue to rise. Where gun violence and mass shootings are so common that it’s become alarmingly normalized. None of this is normal. These deaths of despair are reflective, in part, of the soul-sickness of our country. Our world. At the risk of sounding “fringe”, I think we need to invite the abstract but critical conversation of soul into our dialogue about mental health one-on-one in the therapy room and in larger, social conversations.

19) Everything can look great on paper, and you can still feel unhappy.

You can have the great tech job. The multi six-figure salary. Be married to someone with a similar pedigree. Have the two kids you always imagined you’d have. That cabin in Tahoe. And those season tickets to The Warriors. AND you can still feel hollow, numb, and depressed. Just because something looks right doesn’t mean it’s right for you. Privilege doesn’t preclude suffering. To acknowledge that you’re struggling while everything “looks good” doesn’t make you a bad or ungrateful person. It makes you a person who needs support.

20) Doing your own personal work is both a privilege and also an act of social justice and an investment in the world.

So often over this last decade I’ve heard, time and time again, that people feel guilty for seeking out or being in therapy. When “others have it so much worse.” They hold a mindset of, “Who am I to complain when my life is so comfortable in so many ways?”. To the point above, suffering and being privileged are not mutually exclusive. Look, the folks who work with me don’t have bombs falling on their heads. Don’t live with the threat of ISIS or the Taliban. And can provide food and shelter for their kids.

These are privileges and we are privileged, relative to most of the world, to be able to even seek out (or in my case, conduct) therapy in the first place. And just because we are privileged doesn’t diminish our suffering. I actually think that because we are privileged we have an obligation to do our own personal work. To heal our traumas and maladaptive beliefs and behaviors. So that we can use our privileged positions to help and strengthen others. Cease any intergenerational trauma that may be traveling down our lines, empower our communities. And even improve larger social circumstances.

The more we can move through the world in functional, compassionate, kind, and psychologically healthy ways, the more chance we have to positively impact others and circumstances. From this perspective, doing your own personal work is a privilege, yes. But it also an act of social justice and an act of investing in our world.

What wisdom emerges from a decade of trauma-focused therapeutic work?

When you sit across from a therapist who’s spent over 25,000 hours in the chair, you’re benefiting from insights they couldn’t have imagined when they first started graduate school thinking they were ready. A decade of clinical work teaches profound lessons about human resilience, primarily that no matter where you’re starting from, change remains possible throughout your entire life.

Your therapist understands that while 10 important things to know when considering therapy might feel overwhelming initially, the therapeutic process itself reveals how behaviors that frustrate you most were once brilliant survival strategies. That eating pattern, that relationship dynamic, that way you handle money, they all served to protect you when you had fewer resources.

They’ve learned through thousands of hours that trauma isn’t just dramatic events but can be relational, the depressive parent who couldn’t attune to you, the alcoholic who switched between Jekyll and Hyde. More importantly, they know it’s not the trauma itself but the lack of processing and integration that creates lasting impact.

Your therapist holds paradoxes with ease: your parents likely did their best AND their best may have harmed you. Relationships can wound AND they can heal. You can forgive someone AND keep them out of your life. Everything can look perfect on paper AND you can still feel hollow inside.

Wrapping up.

I hope that this post felt helpful, comforting, thought-provoking or just plain old normalizing for you to read.

Please know, though, that this list is not exhaustive.

It’s not reflective of everything I’ve learned as a therapist. (the nearly 100 original blog articles on this site barely scratch the surface of all that I’ve learned!) And I’m sure as soon as I click publish I’ll remember more points I wanted to share.

So I’ll keep doing this work, reflecting on what I’ve learned. And putting it in these posts for you, wherever you are. So we can grow alongside each other in the 2020’s. Sound good?

Now I’d love to hear from you in the comments below:

What did this post bring up for you? Which of these 20 points did you most need to hear about today? What speaks to you the most of what I shared. Please leave me a message in the comments below. I’d love to hear from you.

And Happy New Year!

Here’s to healing relational trauma and creating thriving lives on solid foundations.

Warmly,

Annie

 

How to Heal: What a Decade of Therapeutic Work Actually Teaches About Healing

One of the most consistent things I’ve learned across ten years of clinical work. And what I most want to pass on to you through this post. Is that healing doesn’t proceed the way we initially imagine it will. Most people arrive at the therapy door (or at the edge of doing inner work more seriously) with a mental model something like: you understand the wound, you grieve it, you heal, you move on. The actual path is messier, more layered, and ultimately more interesting than that. There are no vignette figures to reference for this particular post. Because what I want to offer here is drawn from across many clients, many years, and the accumulated weight of witnessing what actually changes people. This is my most honest distillation of how healing actually happens, in roughly this order.

Here’s the path I walk with clients, in roughly this order:

1. Begin with the therapeutic alliance before anything else. Bruce Wampold, PhD, psychotherapy researcher and meta-analyst, has spent his career establishing what the data consistently shows: the quality of the therapeutic relationship accounts for more of the outcome variance in therapy than any specific technique or modality. This is not a small finding. It’s a humbling and important one. Before we worry about which modality, which protocol, which approach, the first order of business is building a relationship that feels safe enough to be honest in. If you don’t have that with your current therapist. If there’s something about the relationship that’s consistently off and you haven’t been able to name it. That’s worth addressing directly, or it’s a sign that a different therapist might serve you better. The relationship isn’t incidental to the healing. The relationship is much of the healing.

2. Name what’s actually wrong. Not just what’s presenting. Edward Bordin, PhD, psychotherapy researcher, conceptualized the working alliance as depending partly on agreement about the goals and tasks of therapy. In practice, this means that naming the right problem matters. Most people arrive with a presenting complaint. Anxiety, relationship patterns, a sense of stuckness. That is real and important and also the entry point to something more foundational. Part of early therapeutic work is staying curious about what the presenting problem is a symptom of, rather than rushing to fix the symptom. I’m anxious might trace to: I’ve never felt safe. My relationships keep failing might trace to: I don’t believe I’m worth staying for. Getting to the right level of the problem. Specific enough to work, deep enough to matter. Is itself a significant piece of work.

3. Practice the new moves outside the therapy room. Insight that never leaves the room is interesting but incomplete. One of the things I emphasize consistently is that healing requires behavioral experiments between sessions. Small moves that bring the new understanding into contact with actual life. This might be: one conversation this week where you stayed with discomfort rather than deflecting. One moment where you asked for what you needed instead of engineering around it. One instance of noticing your nervous system activate and doing something other than what you always do. These aren’t performances; they’re data points. Each one gives you real-world feedback about how the work is landing and what still needs attention.

4. Let a trauma-informed therapist become your earned secure base. What I know deeply, ten years in, is that the healing that sticks is almost always relational. Individual therapy with a therapist who is both warm and competent. Who can hold your complexity without flinching, who repairs ruptures when they happen, who doesn’t require you to take care of them. Is the closest thing I know to a reliably curative experience. The technical term for what develops over time is earned secure attachment, but the lived experience of it is simpler: you begin to feel, at a cellular level, that you’re not alone in this. That felt sense of accompaniment is not a side effect of healing. It is a primary mechanism of it.

5. Hold the systemic lens through the whole process. One thing I’ve had to learn and relearn across a decade is how much my clients’ struggles are not merely individual. The perfectionism, the people-pleasing, the relentless self-scrutiny. These don’t emerge in a vacuum. They emerge from family systems, cultural systems, and structural inequalities that are real and consequential. Understanding how the relational trauma framework situates individual pain within larger systems helps you be more accurate. And more compassionate. With yourself. You didn’t create this pattern alone, which means you also can’t be expected to dismantle it by willpower alone. The systemic lens doesn’t excuse; it explains. And accurate explanation is the beginning of real accountability rather than punitive self-blame.

6. Trust the non-linear arc. The truest thing I can tell you about healing is that it doesn’t go in a straight line. There are periods of rapid movement and periods that look, from the inside, like going backwards. There are sessions that feel meaningless and then reveal their significance three months later. There are years of work that appear to produce nothing followed by a shift that reorganizes everything. If you’re in a fallow period. If therapy feels slow, if nothing seems to be moving. This is not evidence that healing isn’t happening. It may be evidence that something important is consolidating beneath the surface. IFS therapy can be a particularly useful lens in these periods, offering a way to work with the parts of you that are ambivalent about change or protecting the system from moving too fast.

Ten years in, I’m more convinced than ever that healing is possible. And also more honest about what it asks of people. It asks time, money, courage, and a willingness to be surprised by yourself. If you’re ready to invest in that seriously, I’d love to support you through individual therapy or, if a self-directed structure fits your life better right now, through Fixing the Foundations^™. You can also simply schedule a consultation and we’ll talk about what makes the most sense for where you are.

Related Reading

• What does it mean to be an ambitious, upwardly mobile woman from a relational trauma background?
• Attachment Trauma: How Early Relationships Shape Your Adult Connections
• Trauma and Relationships: When Your Professional Strengths Become Your Relationship Blindspots

Both/And: Holding the Complexity of Your Experience

In my work with clients, I find that the most important breakthroughs happen not when someone chooses one truth over another, but when they learn to hold two seemingly contradictory truths at the same time.

You can be grateful for what you have and grieve what you didn’t get. You can love someone and acknowledge the harm they caused. You can be strong and still need help. These aren’t contradictions. They’re the texture of a fully lived life.

The driven women I work with often struggle with this because they’ve been trained to solve problems, not sit with paradox. But healing isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a process to inhabit. And the both/and is always where the deepest growth lives.

The Systemic Lens: Seeing Beyond the Individual

When we locate suffering exclusively in the individual. “What’s wrong with me?”. We miss the larger forces at work. Culture, family systems, economic structures, and intergenerational patterns all shape the terrain on which your personal struggle plays out.

This matters because the driven women I work with almost universally blame themselves for pain that was never theirs alone to carry. The anxiety, the perfectionism, the chronic self-doubt. These aren’t character flaws. They’re adaptive responses to systems that asked too much of you while offering too little safety, attunement, and genuine support.

Healing begins when you stop asking “What’s wrong with me?” and start asking “What happened to me. And what systems made it possible?”

If what you’ve read here resonates, I want you to know that individual therapy and executive coaching are available for driven women ready to do this work. You can also explore my self-paced recovery courses or schedule a complimentary consultation to find the right fit.

Medical Disclaimer