Mental Health for Tech Executives: A Complete Guide for Driven Women in Technology

Clinically Reviewed by Annie Wright, LMFT · Last Updated April 2026

SUMMARYMental health challenges in tech leadership are real, common, and rarely addressed with the depth they deserve. This guide is for driven women in technology, founders, CTOs, VPs of Engineering, and senior executives, who are succeeding on every external metric and quietly falling apart. It covers what’s actually happening in your nervous system, why tech specifically selects for the psychological profiles most vulnerable to burnout, and what healing looks like when your whole identity has been built around your performance.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1. The Hotel Room Nobody Sees
2. What Is Executive Mental Health? Burnout, Allostatic Load, and What’s Actually Happening
3. The Neurobiology: What Tech Leadership Does to Your Nervous System
4. How It Shows Up in Driven Women in Tech
5. The Childhood Roots: Why Tech Selected You, and What That Cost
6. Both/And: Tech Gave You Everything, And It’s Taking What It Can’t Give Back
7. The Systemic Lens: How Silicon Valley Was Designed to Break You
8. How to Heal: Therapy, Coaching, and Rebuilding After Burnout
9. Frequently Asked Questions

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Here’s what it actually looks like:

The Sunday dread. It starts around 4pm on Sunday and it isn’t about Monday’s meetings. You know what’s on the calendar. You’re excellent at managing a calendar. The dread is something older and less rational, a low-grade hum of threat that lives in the chest and doesn’t respond to logic. By Sunday evening, the week ahead feels less like an opportunity and more like something to survive.

The 2am Slack checks. Not because there’s an actual crisis. Because the silence feels wrong. Because not knowing feels more dangerous than the cost of checking. Because your nervous system has been trained, over time, to treat uncertainty as threat, and a blank notification tray at 2am reads as threat in a register below conscious thought.

Identity fusion. This one is the most consequential and the most invisible. After years in a founding role, or a senior leadership position, or building something from the ground up, the company stops being something you do and becomes something you are. Your self-worth, your sense of safety, your understanding of your own value as a human being, all of it becomes entangled with metrics that are never fully within your control. A bad board meeting feels existential, not because you’re being dramatic, but because some part of you has stopped distinguishing between the company’s fate and your own.

The inability to decompress. Vacations don’t work. Weekends don’t work. You take the trip and spend it checking email from the beach and feeling guilty about both simultaneously. Sleep doesn’t land. Exercise helps for an hour and then the noise comes back. The body has forgotten how to come down, because coming down, for a long time, wasn’t safe, or wasn’t possible.

Relational thinning. The closest relationships start feeling like something else you don’t have enough bandwidth for. Partners, friends, children, you love them, but you’re interacting with them from behind glass, present in body but not quite there. You notice the distance. You don’t know how to close it. And the guilt about not closing it adds to everything else you’re carrying.

Here’s a scene from my practice that captures this with specificity:

Priya is the CTO of a Series B startup, ninety employees, two years since the raise, and a board that has started asking different questions than it used to. She’s sitting in her car in the parking garage beneath the office, engine off. She needs to go in. She has a 9am with her VP of Product, a 10:30 architecture review, and a noon with a new board observer who she’s already read extensively but still feels uncertain about. She’s prepared for all of it. She has always been prepared for all of it. But she’s been sitting in the car for twenty minutes now, and what she’s doing in those twenty minutes isn’t thinking or preparing or strategizing. She’s just trying to find the self that walks into the room confidently. She used to know where to find her. Lately, she has to search.

What Priya is experiencing is not a motivation problem. It’s not a competence gap. It’s a burnout that has gone deep enough to affect her sense of self, who she is when she’s not performing the role she has performed brilliantly for years. That’s a different clinical picture than the one most productivity coaches are equipped to address.

The Childhood Roots: Why Tech Selected You, and What That Cost

Here is something I find clinically important, and something that the tech industry almost never acknowledges: the psychological profiles that tech leadership rewards, the hypervigilance, the tireless productivity, the ability to scan for risk in any environment, the compulsion to optimize, the discomfort with stillness, are very often not simply personality traits. They’re adaptations. Learned responses to early environments that required them.

Lindsay Gibson, PsyD, clinical psychologist and author of Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, describes what happens to children who grow up in households where emotional attunement from caregivers is inconsistent or absent. These children don’t get to simply be children. They become monitors. They learn to read the emotional weather of the room, to anticipate need, to manage their own presentation carefully so as not to destabilize the system. They become extraordinarily competent at certain things, and they pay for that competence with a loss of interiority, with a deep uncertainty about what they want when no one else’s needs are structuring the situation.

That child, grown up, often finds a home in tech. The industry rewards exactly the capacities she spent her childhood developing: threat monitoring, pattern recognition, the ability to work at length without complaint, the talent for performing competence even under duress. What tech doesn’t tell her, because it doesn’t know, and because it doesn’t care, is that the capacities it’s rewarding were forged in a fire. And that fire left burns.

What I see consistently in my work is that the woman who built the company, who held the team together through the acquisition, who navigated the board dynamics with such apparent ease, that woman often grew up in a home where she learned early that her job was to make things work. To be the one who had it together. To be the solution, not the problem. She may have been the parentified child who took care of a depressed parent. The golden child whose worth was contingent on performance. The eldest daughter who absorbed the household’s anxieties so that her siblings could be kids. She may have had a parentified childhood without ever having a name for it until now.

Gabor Maté, MD, physician and author of The Myth of Normal, writes about the relationship between early relational stress and the adult drive to achieve, arguing that for many driven people, the ambition is not separate from the wound but continuous with it. The compulsive achiever isn’t simply goal-oriented. She’s trying, in some older register, to finally be enough. To finally be safe. To finally earn the attunement she didn’t reliably receive.

This is not pathology. It’s logic. It’s deeply intelligent adaptation to real circumstances. But intelligence and adaptability don’t, by themselves, produce peace. And peace, genuine, bodily, somatic peace, is often what the women I work with have never actually had and don’t know how to recognize.

The childhood roots matter not because the past is an excuse or a life sentence, but because understanding them changes what healing looks like. You can’t therapize your way out of a nervous system pattern by addressing only the current workplace stress, any more than you can renovate the second floor of a house by working only on the second floor. The foundation requires attention. The childhood roots of perfectionism and overachievement are often the actual subject, even when the presenting problem is labeled “career burnout.”

Both/And: Tech Gave You Everything, And It’s Taking What It Can’t Give Back

I want to hold two things at once here, because I think the either/or framing that usually gets applied to this conversation is part of what makes it so hard to have.

Tech gave you real things. It gave you problems complex enough to be genuinely interesting. It gave you the particular electricity of building something that didn’t exist before. It gave you financial autonomy, professional respect, and, maybe most importantly, a context in which your particular way of thinking and moving through the world was valued rather than viewed as too much. For many of the women I work with, finding tech was the first time they felt like they fit somewhere. That’s not a small thing. That’s not something to dismiss or minimize.

And. And, simultaneously. Tech has a way of taking things it cannot replace. Things that weren’t yours to give, and that you gave anyway, because the culture asked for them and you said yes because you always say yes when the problem is interesting enough and the stakes are high enough and because saying no has never felt entirely available to you.

It took the years in your thirties when your body was asking you to sleep and instead you were shipping features. It took the friendships that couldn’t survive the scheduling arithmetic of a founder’s life. It took your relationship with your own interior, the ability to know what you want, to feel what you feel, to be alone without immediately filling the silence with productivity. It may have taken a partnership, or the chance at one, because the company was always the primary relationship and everything else was secondary investment.

Here’s where Camille is in that equation:

Camille is forty-one, three years out from a successful exit, financially independent in a way she had wanted and worked toward for fifteen years. She’s sitting in her therapist’s office, not Annie’s, a different one, the one she finally started seeing six months after the exit, and she’s talking about how strange it is that she doesn’t feel better. She thought she would feel better. The company was the pressure; the exit was the release. And instead what she feels is a particular variety of lost that she doesn’t have words for yet. She mentions that she dreamed last week that she was back in the building. She woke up feeling, for a moment, relieved. “I didn’t expect to miss it,” she says. “I didn’t even know what ‘it’ was. I think I miss feeling like I knew who I was.”

Camille is not failing at her exit. She’s encountering something that the startup ecosystem doesn’t prepare founders for: the grief that lives on the other side of success. The identity gap that appears when the thing you had fused yourself with is gone. The question that was always there underneath the urgency, who am I when I’m not building?, finally has space to surface, and it surfaces without easy answers.

Both truths can live together. Tech built something in you that is real and valuable and yours. And tech asked for a price that was sometimes too high, and you paid it because you didn’t always know another transaction was possible. Healing from burnout means being able to hold both of those things without collapsing into either the

gratitude that bypasses the grief or the resentment that discards the real good.

That’s the work. And it’s worth doing.

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The Systemic Lens: How Silicon Valley Was Designed to Break You

I want to be clear that the psychological patterns I’ve described in this post are not simply personal problems. They exist in a context. And that context is not neutral, it was built, by particular people, with particular values, and it has particular effects on the women who operate inside it.

Let’s name some of those effects.

VC culture rewards pathology. The behaviors that attract venture capital, the obsessive single-mindedness, the willingness to sacrifice health and relationships and sleep for the mission, the inability to conceive of a scenario in which you stop, are not, by any clinical definition, signs of health. They are signs of someone who has learned to use work as a regulatory strategy. Someone for whom stopping, truly stopping, doesn’t feel safe. Silicon Valley institutionalized this profile and called it founder-market fit. What it is, clinically, is often a description of someone managing early relational trauma through achievement.

The founder-hero myth is a masculine myth with a gender-specific trap. The lone genius visionary, the person who outworks everyone else, the 4am emailer and the 11pm Slacker, this archetype was built on a model of a person who had, functionally, no domestic labor obligations and a support system (often a partner, often female) absorbing all the care work in the household. Women who try to inhabit this archetype do so at a structural disadvantage. They’re expected to be the founder-hero AND to still carry more than their share of the invisible labor at home. The burnout math is different. The stakes are different. And the cultural permission to rest, to admit difficulty, to seek support, that’s distributed differently too.

Gender bias in tech funding changes the calculus of showing weakness. Research consistently documents that women founders face more skepticism, more scrutiny, and less benefit of the doubt in investor conversations than their male counterparts. The implicit consequence of this, not always conscious, but real, is that driven women in tech frequently feel they cannot afford to show struggle. Struggle reads as confirmation of the bias they’re already fighting. So they perform confidence while managing private distress, which is a cognitively expensive and emotionally costly long-term strategy.

Always-on culture isn’t a feature; it’s a design choice. The technologies that drive tech culture, Slack, always-on video, global team structures, 24-hour communication norms, were designed without regard for the physiological limits of the people using them. There is no off switch built into the system. Recovery has been treated as a personal responsibility rather than an organizational one, which means that the people most committed to the mission, which is typically the driven women in leadership, are the most likely to subordinate their own recovery to the organization’s needs.

The myth of meritocracy keeps women from naming the structural problem. One of the most effective features of meritocratic ideology is that it redirects systemic problems into personal ones. If you’re struggling, the narrative goes, it must be a you problem, a productivity problem, a focus problem, a time-management problem. This framing is enormously useful for organizations that would rather not examine their structures, and enormously damaging for the women inside those organizations, who spend energy trying to optimize themselves when the actual problem is a system that wasn’t built with them in mind.

The imposter syndrome that so many women in tech describe is not, at its root, a cognitive distortion. It’s a reasonable response to an environment that has communicated, consistently and in many ways, that someone like you was not the default occupant of the room you’re in. Reframing it as a thought pattern to correct misses the systemic context that makes it so persistent.

If you’ve been searching for therapy for women in tech, specifically someone who understands tech industry burnout, imposter syndrome women tech, or what it costs to be a driven woman building something in an industry that still defaults to a different kind of person, this is the work I do. Startup founder burnout is its own specific experience: the identity collapse that happens when the company you’ve poured yourself into hits a wall, or when the exit you worked toward doesn’t feel the way you thought it would. A therapist for tech executives needs to understand not just the psychological landscape but the professional context, the investor dynamics, the board relationships, the culture of invulnerability that tech leadership often demands.

Related: The Curse of Competency · The Wonder Woman Warrior Archetype · Too Much

Naming these structural forces isn’t about removing individual agency. It’s about accurate diagnosis. You can’t fix what you can’t name. And the women I work with who make the most genuine progress are often the ones who can finally separate what’s theirs, the adaptation patterns, the nervous system wiring, the relational templates, from what was done to them by a system they were never designed for.

Research makes the scale of this crisis concrete. A 2023 Deloitte survey found that 77% of professionals across industries reported experiencing burnout at their current jo

b, with women in technology and financial services showing disproportionately high rates. Among women in senior tech roles specifically, a 2022 McKinsey & LeanIn.org Women in the Workplace report found that for every 100 men promoted to manager, only 87 women were promoted, a “broken rung” that requires driven women to work significantly harder to maintain equivalent standing. The World Health Organization recognized burnout as an occupational phenomenon in 2019, noting that it affects an estimated 67% of workers at some point in their career. A 2021 Blind survey of tech workers found that 57% reported burnout symptoms, with women reporting rates approximately 18 percentage points higher than men. Richard Schwartz, PhD, developer of Internal Family Systems therapy, has noted in clinical literature that high achievers who present with burnout frequently carry internal systems organized entirely around performance, with the nervous system running a continuous background calculation of ‘am I doing enough?’

How to Heal: Therapy, Coaching, and Rebuilding After Burnout

I want to be honest about what healing actually involves for driven women in tech, because the treatments that get named most often, meditation apps, exercise regimens, better boundaries, are not wrong, exactly, but they’re inadequate for the depth of what I’ve described above. They’re surface-level interventions for a root-level problem.

Here’s what I’ve found actually works:

Somatic therapy. Because the allostatic load and the nervous system dysregulation live in the body, they require body-based approaches to move. Talk therapy alone, as useful as it can be, is addressing the executive system of a brain that learned something much earlier, in a register that language doesn’t fully reach. Somatic therapies work directly with the body’s experience: sensation, breath, movement, posture. They help the nervous system learn, experientially, that it can down-regulate, that the all-clear signal is available. This is not woo. This is physiology.

EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). EMDR therapy is one of the most well-researched trauma treatments available. For driven women in tech whose current burnout has roots in earlier experiences, childhood environments that required hypervigilance, relational templates that associated rest with danger, early messages that tied worth to performance, EMDR can work with those earlier memories directly. It doesn’t just address the symptom; it addresses the original encoding. What I’ve seen in my own practice is that EMDR can produce shifts that years of insight-oriented talk therapy didn’t, because it’s working at the level where the material is actually stored.

Internal Family Systems (IFS). Richard Schwartz, PhD, developer of Internal Family Systems therapy, describes the psyche as organized into parts, protective parts that manage presentation and ward off vulnerability, exiled parts that carry the feelings and beliefs that were too risky to hold consciously, and a Self that can lead when the protective parts can be reassured enough to relax. For driven women in tech, IFS is often extraordinarily resonant, because the description maps onto lived experience: there’s the part of you that gives the keynote and the part of you in the hotel room afterward, and there’s whatever is underneath both of them that doesn’t have airtime because it hasn’t been safe to listen. IFS gives that map clinical language and a therapeutic path.

Trauma-informed executive coaching. Executive coaching that’s grounded in an understanding of how early experience shapes leadership patterns is a different animal from the skill-and-strategy coaching that dominates most of the leadership development space. The question isn’t just “how do you want to lead differently?” but “what is the nervous system doing underneath the leadership decisions you’re making?” What gets in the way of delegation, of trust, of genuine vulnerability with a team, these are often not skill deficits. They’re protection strategies. Working with them requires a framework that includes the relational and the somatic.

Community and witness. One of the most isolating features of senior tech leadership is the structural loneliness of it. The higher you go, the fewer people you can be fully honest with. Boards have different agendas. Reports need to be led, not parented. Peers at other companies are sometimes competitors. Partners are often tired of hearing about it. The experience of being genuinely seen and not evaluated, of having your struggle witnessed without it being turned into a performance evaluation or a data point in someone else’s strategic calculus, is not a luxury. It’s physiologically necessary. It’s what humans actually need. Finding the context that provides that, whether in therapy, a carefully chosen peer group, or a therapeutic relationship, is often as important as any specific modality.

Healing from the kind of deep burnout and identity disruption that drives women in tech are experiencing isn’t fast. It isn’t a six-week course. It isn’t a reorg of your schedule. It’s a process of rebuilding contact with yourself, with your body, your feelings, your wants, your limits, that takes time precisely because the disconnection happened over time.

But it does happen. I’ve watched it happen, with women in roles very like yours, with histories very like yours. What’s on the other side isn’t the absence of ambition or drive, it’s ambition that’s actually chosen rather than compelled. Drive that comes from a self who’s actually present, rather than a protection strategy that’s been running so long it started looking like a personality.

If you’re in the hotel room, or the garage, or the Sunday dread, you don’t have to figure out how to fix it alone. You weren’t supposed to have to carry all of this alone. That was also never the truth of it, even if it’s felt like it for a long time.

If you’re ready to understand what’s actually driving the patterns, beneath the career, beneath the performance, beneath the thing that looks so successful from the outside, I’d invite you to connect with us and take the first step. Or start with Annie’s free quiz, which can help you begin to name the childhood wound that’s been shaping the picture all along. You can also explore somatic therapy, IFS therapy, or learn more about the online therapy options available to driven women wherever they are. The work of healing isn’t a departure from your ambition. It’s what makes your ambition yours again.

Is This Right For You?

You don’t need to be in crisis to benefit from therapy. In fact, most of the tech leaders I work with are high-functioning, the outside world would never know anything is wrong. But you know. You feel it in the insomnia, the irritability with people you love, the sense that you’re performing a version of yourself that doesn’t quite belong to you anymore.

This might be a good fit if:

• You’ve achieved significant professional success but feel increasingly empty, anxious, or disconnected
• You recognize patterns, perfectionism, people-pleasing, difficulty with vulnerability, that you can trace to childhood
• You’ve tried meditation apps, executive coaches, or wellness retreats, and the relief doesn’t last
• You want a therapist who understands the specific pressures of tech leadership without needing a crash course
• You’re ready to address what’s underneath the burnout, not just manage the symptoms
• You want telehealth sessions that fit into a packed schedule without adding another commute

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FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Q: I’m successful at my job and function well, can I really be burned out?

A: Yes, absolutely, and this is one of the most common presentations I see in driven women in tech. Burnout doesn’t require that you stop functioning. It doesn’t require that you fail visibly or fall apart professionally. What Christina Maslach, PhD’s research makes clear is that burnout is characterized by emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and a reduced sense of personal accomplishment, and these can coexist with excellent external performance for years. The women who are most prone to this pattern are often the ones who have the highest capacity to continue performing while suffering privately. If you’re doing your job well and feel nothing about it, that’s not evidence that you’re fine. That’s the depersonalization dimension of burnout.

Q: Why don’t vacations help? I took two weeks off and came back feeling exactly the same.

A: This is one of the most disorienting features of deep burnout, and it points to something important: what you’re managing isn’t just fatigue, which does respond to rest. What you’re managing is a nervous system that has been in a chronic state of activation, with the stress-response systems running at a sustained low-to-medium pitch for months or years. A two-week vacation doesn’t resolve allostatic load, which is the cumulative physiological cost of that sustained activation. The nervous system needs longer, more intentional recovery, and often that recovery needs to involve learning new down-regulation skills, not just the absence of demands.

Q: I feel like I’ve lost myself, I don’t know who I am outside of my role. Is that normal?

A: It’s extremely common among women in senior tech leadership, and it’s one of the more painful dimensions of what they experience. Identity fusion, the merging of self-worth, safety, and sense of meaning with the company or the role, is often a slow process, and it accelerates in direct proportion to how much you’ve given the role and how long you’ve been doing it. It’s made more complicated by the fact that, for many driven women in tech, the role really was providing things that were genuinely missing earlier in life, belonging, competence, recognition, purpose. Untangling what’s yours from what the role gave you is real therapeutic work, and it’s work that’s fully possible to do.

Q: How do I know if what I’m experiencing is burnout versus clinical depression versus anxiety?

A: These categories overlap more than is commonly understood, and the distinctions matter primarily for treatment planning. Burnout typically has a clear occupational context and involves all three Maslach dimensions (exhaustion, depersonalization, reduced efficacy). Clinical depression is broader, it pervades every domain of life, not just work, and tends to include persistent low mood, anhedonia, and often a negative self-narrative. Anxiety involves a nervous system in chronic activation, anticipating threat. In practice, many driven women in tech are managing all three simultaneously, with burnout as the presenting layer and longer-standing anxiety and relational patterns underneath. A trauma-informed therapist who understands the tech leadership context can help you sort through this accurately rather than guessing.

Q: I’m worried that getting therapy will make me less effective at work. Is that a real risk?

A: This fear is understandable, and it’s almost always the opposite of what happens. What I see consistently in my work with leaders is that the psychological work of therapy doesn’t soften drive or diminish effectiveness. It tends to make both more sustainable, more chosen, and more aligned with what actually matters to a person. The executive who has worked through the patterns beneath her perfectionism doesn’t stop caring about quality, she stops burning herself alive in the service of it. The leader who has metabolized her relational trauma doesn’t become less capable, she becomes more genuinely present with her team, which is one of the most powerful leadership traits there is.

Q: Is there therapy specifically designed for tech executives, or do I have to explain my world to every therapist I try?

A: Finding a therapist who already understands the specific pressures of tech leadership, the board dynamics, the founder identity, the always-on culture, the particular gender dynamics of venture-backed companies, makes a significant difference to the quality of the therapeutic work. You shouldn’t have to spend your session explaining what a Series B is or why the board chair’s email landed the way it did. If you’re looking for a therapist with this specific background and context, working with Annie or exploring her executive coaching offerings may be a strong fit.

Q: Why does burnout in tech feel different from burnout I’ve heard about in other fields?

A: Tech burnout has a distinct profile because the industry is unusual in how thoroughly it fuses identity with work. Unlike burnout in medicine or law, where professional identity is also strong, tech leadership often involves a literal ownership stake in what you’re building, plus a cultural mythology that frames the work as a calling rather than a job. When you’re not just an employee but a co-creator with equity and mission attached, the psychological stakes of the company’s performance are categorically different. In my work with driven women in tech, what I see is burnout operating not just at the level of exhaustion but at the level of meaning, and that requires a different kind of recovery. Research by Christina Maslach, PhD found that mission-driven organizations paradoxically produce higher rates of severe burnout because the emotional investment is total, not transactional.

Q: What does recovery from tech burnout actually look like, and how long does it take?

A: Recovery from tech burnout, when it’s real recovery and not just a reset before the next cycle, tends to unfold in stages. The first stage is physiological stabilization: sleep, movement, genuine rest, and the slow recalibration of a nervous system that’s been running hot. This takes longer than most people expect, typically three to six months before the body begins to feel different. The second stage is identity work: examining what you actually want when the company’s needs aren’t organizing your sense of self. The third is relational repair, both with the people in your life and with the parts of yourself you put aside. In my practice, clients doing this work with real commitment typically notice meaningful change within six months, and substantial transformation within twelve to eighteen. It’s not a quick fix. But it’s also not as open-ended as people fear.

Q: How is burnout different for women in tech versus other industries?

A: Tech industry burnout has several features that distinguish it from burnout in other professional contexts. First, the always-on culture: products don’t have office hours, and the global distribution of teams means that a fully disconnected evening or weekend is structurally uncommon at senior levels. Second, identity saturation: in tech more than most industries, the company mission and the self become deeply intertwined, which means that a product failure, a funding miss, or a workforce reduction doesn’t just feel like a professional setback, it feels like a personal one. Third, the representation layer: for women in tech, particularly at senior levels, there is often an additional performance demand, representing “women in leadership” in addition to doing the actual job, which compounds the cognitive and emotional load. Therapy for women in tech addresses all three of these layers, not just the productivity symptoms.

RELATED READING

Maslach, Christina, and Michael P. Leiter. “Understanding the Burnout Experience: Recent Research and Its Implications for Psychiatry.” World Psychiatry, 2016. https://doi.org/10.1002/wps.20311

Maté, Gabor. The Myth of Normal: Trauma, Illness, and Healing in a Toxic Culture. Avery, 2022. https://drgabormate.com/book/the-myth-of-normal/

van der Kolk, Bessel. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking, 2014. https://www.besselvanderkolk.com/resources/the-body-keeps-the-score

Porges, Stephen W. The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. W. W. Norton, 2011. https://www.stephenporges.com/

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About the Author

Annie Wright

LMFT · Relational Trauma Specialist · W.W. Norton Author

Helping driven women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.

As a licensed psychotherapist, trauma-informed executive coach, and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, she guides driven women , including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs , in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in USA Today, Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.

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