Annie Wright examines the unique psychological challenges biotech founders face when their deep commitment to scientific innovation begins to take a toll on their mental health. The article highlights the emotional strain and identity conflicts that arise when the mission to advance science becomes overwhelming, offering insight into the specific wounds that can emerge from this intense dedication.
- Priya Has Been Staring at the Glass Slide for Twenty-Three Minutes
- What Makes Biotech Founder Psychology Specifically Different
- The Mission-Burnout Spiral — When the Reason You Built It Becomes the Thing That Will Break You
- Why Biotech Specifically Recreates Caregiver Wounds in Women Founders
- The Three Specific Hazards — The Clinical Failure, the Co-Founder Scientist Departure, and the FDA Delay
- Both/And: The Mission Is Sacred AND Your Body Is Not the Sacrificial Object
- What Trauma-Informed CEO Practice Looks Like in a 12-Year Drug Development Timeline
- The Biotech Founders Who Made It Through Phase 2 With Their Bodies Intact
- Frequently Asked Questions
Priya Has Been Staring at the Glass Slide for Twenty-Three Minutes
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m. in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily, its white noise a relentless drone at the edge of sensory tolerance. On the bench, the CSO’s open notebook reveals a last entry from Friday, abruptly cut off mid-sentence by an ink blot that seems almost like a silent scream. A glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” lies intact before her, and Priya’s gaze has not wavered from it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
Priya’s breath tightens as the silence presses in, broken only by the mechanical whir of the equipment. Each slide on the bench is a testament to years of painstaking work, late nights, and the fragile hope of breakthrough. Her mother’s illness was the catalyst, the reason this company was founded, the mission that now feels both sacred and unbearably heavy. The CSO’s departure didn’t just leave a vacancy in leadership—it fractured the fragile ecosystem of trust and shared purpose that kept the company’s heart beating.
In this moment, Priya is caught between the science and the solitude, the data and the doubt. The ink blot in the notebook feels like a metaphor for the uncertainty clouding her mind—the unfinished thoughts of a partner who once believed in the same vision but now has stepped away. The lab’s sterile light casts long shadows, mirroring the complexity of founder psychology when the mission that drives you also isolates you.
She knows the stakes are not just professional but deeply personal. The slides prove the hypothesis, yes, but they also testify to the relentless toll of carrying a legacy that no one else fully shares. Priya’s body is in the lab, but her mind is tangled in the emotional lineage of loss, responsibility, and the unyielding pressure of leadership. this is biotech; it’s a crucible where mission-driven founder women like Priya confront the limits of endurance and identity.
What Makes Biotech Founder Psychology Specifically Different
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m. in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily, a relentless white noise at the edge of sensory overload. On the bench, the CSO’s notebook lies open, the last entry from Friday ending mid-sentence with a small ink blob. A glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” sits untouched, yet Priya has been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
Biotech founder psychology is shaped by the unique entanglement of deeply personal stakes with the slow, uncertain, and often brutal reality of drug development. Unlike other sectors where product-market fit might emerge within months, biotech founders endure lengthy timelines measured in years, not quarters. This elongation of risk exposure intensifies the identity fusion with their mission, making the company’s trajectory feel inseparable from their own survival and legacy. The scientific hypothesis they champion is not abstract; it carries the weight of family history, mortality, and the possibility of saving lives.
The resignation of a chief scientific officer in biotech is not merely a personnel setback; it can feel like a rupture in the very hypothesis that sustains the founder’s vision. This loss triggers a complex betrayal trauma, as the trusted collaborator who once shared the mission withdraws when the stakes are highest. It compounds the chronic allostatic load already burdening the founder’s nervous system, where every delay or failure is not just a business metric but a threat to meaning itself.
Biotech founders, especially women, often face layers of caregiver wounds, emotional neglect, and fawning dynamics that complicate their leadership. The mission-driven nature of their work can obscure the boundary between self-care and sacrifice, heightening the risk of burnout that is both psychological and somatic. Understanding these distinctions is critical for tailored therapeutic and executive coaching approaches that honor the founder’s unique landscape and sustain them through the long haul. For more on navigating founder identity, see the Founders hub.
Mission burnout refers to the emotional and physical exhaustion experienced when a person’s dedication to a cause or goal becomes overwhelming and unsustainable.
In plain terms: Mission burnout happens when caring deeply about a goal starts to drain your energy and well-being.
The Mission-Burnout Spiral — When the Reason You Built It Becomes the Thing That Will Break You
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m. in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily, white noise at the edge of what her body can tolerate without flinching. On the bench, the CSO’s notebook lies open; the last entry ends mid-sentence with a small ink blob, a silent testament to abrupt departure. A glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” sits untouched, and Priya has been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
This moment crystallizes the mission-burnout spiral that silently ensnares many biotech founders, especially women whose personal stakes intertwine with company outcomes. The mission, once a source of unshakable purpose, becomes a relentless specific pressure of responsibility and grief. When your company’s success feels like the only way to honor a lost loved one, the line between professional obligation and personal identity blurs dangerously. The slide Priya fixates on is not just data; it’s a symbol of hope and heartbreak, proof of a hypothesis that carries her mother’s memory. Yet that very proof, instead of bringing solace, deepens the isolation and exhaustion she feels.
In my work with founders, this spiral often manifests as a chronic internal conflict: the drive to push forward at all costs versus the body’s mounting signals of overwhelm. The mission’s sacredness can create a silent veto against self-care, as if pausing would betray those who depend on the breakthrough. This dynamic is compounded by the betrayal trauma embedded in losing key team members like Priya’s CSO, which fractures trust and triggers grief that is both personal and professional. The company’s goals become a proxy battlefield for unresolved loss, making burnout not just about exhaustion but about mourning a dream unraveling.
Understanding this spiral is essential for women founders who carry the weight of caregiving wounds and who often experience their companies as extensions of themselves. The mission can feel like a lifeline and a noose simultaneously. Recognizing the signs and breaking the cycle requires a compassionate stance toward the self and the complex emotions tied to the company’s mission. For resources on managing these tensions and preserving your well-being alongside your leadership, visit the Founders hub.
Moral injury occurs when a person experiences profound psychological distress after actions or events that violate their deeply held ethical beliefs, often leading to feelings of guilt, shame, or betrayal.
In plain terms: Moral injury happens when something goes against what you believe is right, causing emotional pain and inner conflict.
Why Biotech Specifically Recreates Caregiver Wounds in Women Founders
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m. in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily, a relentless white noise pressing against her nerves. Her CSO’s notebook lies open on the bench, the last entry from Friday ending mid-sentence with a small ink blob. A glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” rests on the bench; Priya has been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
Biotech’s unique psychological terrain for women founders like Priya is shaped by the intimate caregiving wounds that resurface within the very mission of the company. Unlike other sectors, biotech’s core work often centers on diseases that have touched these women personally—sometimes through loss or prolonged caregiving roles in their families. This mission-driven connection blurs the boundary between professional and personal identity, reactivating unresolved grief and caregiver fatigue that many women founders carry beneath their leadership armor.
Such wounds are not merely metaphorical. The relentless responsibility to “fix” a disease can echo the emotional labor of caregiving roles traditionally assigned to women, where the stakes feel life-and-death, yet control is limited. This dynamic intensifies the experience of betrayal trauma, a concept defined by Jennifer Freyd, PhD, as the psychological impact of being let down by trusted figures or systems. In biotech, the “betrayal” often comes from collaborators, investors, or regulatory setbacks, compounding the original caregiver wounds.
Moreover, the physical and emotional exhaustion of caregiving—what Carol Levine, MA, describes as the “invisible labor” of family care—translates into the biotech founder’s experience of chronic allostatic load. The body’s stress response, as Bessel van der Kolk, MD, explains in The Body Keeps the Score, does not differentiate between caregiving stress and professional burnout. For women founders, this means that the mission’s demands and the body’s limits collide, often invisibly.
Priya’s lingering gaze at the slide is more than scientific scrutiny; it’s a confrontation with the caregiver wound made manifest. The lab, with its equipment and protocols, becomes a stage where personal grief and professional responsibility intertwine, making the biotech founder’s psychological landscape uniquely fraught. Supporting women through this requires acknowledging how caregiving trauma reverberates through their leadership and offers a path toward integration rather than fragmentation.
The Three Specific Hazards — The Clinical Failure, the Co-Founder Scientist Departure, and the FDA Delay
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m., in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily above, a relentless white noise at the edge of what her body can tolerate without flinching. The CSO’s notebook lies open on the bench, the last entry from Friday ending mid-sentence with a small ink blob, a silent testament to unfinished work. A glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” rests intact on the bench; Priya has been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
Three hazards loom large in biotech founder psychology, each a crucible that can fracture even the most mission-driven founder women. First, the clinical failure. When a trial fails, it’s not just a setback in data; it’s a profound rupture in identity and hope. The founder faces a grief unlike typical business losses — a grief complicated by the intimate connection to the disease and the patients depending on the science. This echoes concepts from Holly Prigerson, PhD, on complicated grief, where loss is ambiguous and ongoing, making closure elusive.
Second, the departure of a co-founder scientist, as Priya experiences, triggers a betrayal trauma. Jennifer Freyd, PhD, describes betrayal trauma as a violation within a trusted relationship that disrupts survival strategies. For a biotech founder, this is often not merely professional but deeply personal, fracturing trust and leaving the founder isolated in a high-stakes environment where expertise and emotional alliance are scarce commodities.
Third, the FDA delay embodies a unique form of chronic stress and uncertainty that taxes the nervous system relentlessly. Bessel van der Kolk, MD, explains how prolonged threat without resolution leads to nervous system dysregulation, impairing decision-making and emotional regulation. For founders, this delay can feel like a suspended sentence, a limbo where mission and body are caught in tension.
These hazards intersect with the founder’s identity fusion and allostatic load, making them not just business challenges but psychological and somatic crises. Recognizing these specific hazards is vital to understanding the complex terrain where mission meets vulnerability. For support navigating these challenges, the Founders hub offers resources tailored to women founders confronting these exact realities.
“Addiction begins when a woman loses her handmade and meaningful life, and takes up instead the trance of perfection.”
Clarissa Pinkola Estés, PhD, Jungian analyst, Women Who Run With the Wolves
Complicated grief is a prolonged and intense form of grief that disrupts a person’s ability to function and heal after the loss of a loved one, as described by Holly Prigerson, PhD.
In plain terms: Complicated grief happens when feelings of loss last much longer and are more intense than usual, making it hard to move on with life.
Both/And: The Mission Is Sacred AND Your Body Is Not the Sacrificial Object
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m., in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily above, a relentless white noise at the edge of what her body can tolerate without flinching. Her CSO’s notebook lies open on the bench, the last entry from Friday ending mid-sentence with a small ink blob. The glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” sits intact before her; she’s been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
Priya carries the paradox of her mission like a double-edged scalpel. The science she’s devoted herself to is sacred—anchored in personal loss and a fierce drive to rewrite the narrative of a disease that stole her mother. Yet this mission cannot demand the sacrifice of her body, her nervous system, or her capacity to lead over the long haul. The myth of relentless self-exertion as the only path to success is not just false; it’s dangerous. Founders I work with often wrestle with this tension: honoring the mission’s gravity while resisting the internalized imperative to endure physical and emotional depletion. This both/and is essential to hold.
When the body becomes a battleground for proving worth or commitment, the nervous system’s allostatic load accumulates silently, manifesting as insomnia, chronic pain, or immune dysregulation. Bessel van der Kolk, MD, psychiatrist and trauma researcher, reminds us in The Body Keeps the Score that trauma is stored in the body, not just the mind. For mission-driven founder women like Priya, the risk is that honoring the mission becomes an unconscious invitation to bodily betrayal—a form of moral injury described by Jonathan Shay, MD, PhD, when one’s deeply held values are compromised by systemic demands.
Effective leadership in biotech requires holding this both/and with fierce clarity: the mission’s urgency is real, but so is the imperative to protect one’s embodied self. This means setting boundaries with investors, delegating scientific oversight without guilt, and integrating practices that regulate the nervous system amid the relentless cadence of drug development. It also means creating space within the company culture for psychological safety, a concept championed by Amy Edmondson, PhD, which allows founders and teams alike to acknowledge vulnerability without penalty.
Priya’s glance shifts from the slide to the darkened lab, a silent acknowledgment that the mission’s truth and her body’s limits must coexist. The slide will not move itself, but neither will she if she fractures under its weight. This is not a choice between sacrifice and salvation—it is the courage to hold both as equally real.
Trauma reenactment refers to the unconscious repetition of past traumatic experiences through behaviors, relationships, or situations, often as an attempt to gain control or resolve unresolved emotions. This concept is informed by the work of Bessel van der Kolk, MD, and defined in-house.
In plain terms: Trauma reenactment happens when someone repeats difficult experiences from their past without realizing it, often trying to make sense of or fix those feelings.
What Trauma-Informed CEO Practice Looks Like in a 12-Year Drug Development Timeline
It’s Sunday, 9:14 p.m., in a South San Francisco wet lab where Priya stands alone, the weight of her chief scientific officer’s resignation heavy in the air. The fume hood hums steadily above, a relentless white noise at the edge of what her body can tolerate without flinching. Her CSO’s notebook lies open on the bench, the last entry from Friday ending mid-sentence with a small ink blob. A glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” sits intact before her; she’s been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. Priya’s thought circles: “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
In a 12-year drug development journey, trauma-informed CEO practice is not about heroic endurance but about pacing, attunement, and boundary-setting that honor the nervous system’s limits alongside the mission’s demands. The timeline stretches across scientific discovery, regulatory hurdles, and clinical trials, each phase layered with emotional risks unique to mission-driven biotech founders. Priya’s moment in the lab is a crucible, where loss, betrayal, and relentless responsibility converge. Trauma-informed leadership means acknowledging these realities rather than pushing through them with sheer will.
This approach involves cultivating internal psychological safety, a concept Harvard Business School’s Amy Edmondson, PhD, describes as essential for learning and innovation. For a biotech CEO, it means creating space to feel grief for a departing CSO or a delayed FDA decision without collapsing into shame or self-blame. It means recognizing that the company’s mission is vital yet cannot require sacrificing the CEO’s body or mind.
Integrating trauma-informed practices across the long haul includes regular check-ins with one’s own nervous system, seeking executive coaching or therapy when the internal alarm system signals overwhelm, and building a leadership team that can share the emotional load. Priya’s gaze on the slide is also a reminder that even in isolation, the founder is part of an ecosystem—one that must hold the mission and the human simultaneously. This balance is the foundation for sustaining a mission-driven founder woman through the inevitable setbacks and breakthroughs of drug development.
For resources on navigating these challenges, the Founders hub offers tailored support designed to hold both the mission’s urgency and the founder’s well-being.
A caregiver wound refers to early emotional injuries caused by unmet needs or harmful interactions with primary caregivers, shaping patterns of vulnerability and resilience in adulthood. This concept draws on the work of Alice Miller, PhD, emphasizing the lasting impact of childhood relational experiences on psychological development.
In plain terms: A caregiver wound happens when a child’s emotional needs aren’t met by those who take care of them, affecting how they handle feelings and relationships later in life.
“I stand in the ring in the dead city and tie on the red shoes. They are not mine, they are my mother’s, her mother’s before, handed down like an heirloom but hidden like shameful letters.”
Anne Sexton, “The Red Shoes”
The Biotech Founders Who Made It Through Phase 2 With Their Bodies Intact
The wet lab in South San Francisco is nearly empty on this Sunday night at 9:14 p.m., except for Priya standing by the bench where her chief scientific officer resigned that very morning. The fume hood hums steadily above, a relentless white noise at the edge of what her body can tolerate without flinching. Her CSO’s notebook lies open, the last entry from Friday ending mid-sentence with a small ink blob. On the bench, a glass slide labeled “P-47 — Cohort 3 — positive control” remains perfectly intact, and Priya has been staring at it for twenty-three minutes. She thinks, “I have been running a company that exists because my mother died of this disease. The CSO who would not stay built her career around the same hypothesis. I am now alone in a lab full of slides that prove the hypothesis.”
Survival through Phase 2 clinical trials isn’t just about scientific milestones or regulatory checkboxes; it’s about the endurance of the founder’s body and psyche. Priya’s experience shows that the mission’s weight can fracture even the most resilient women founders unless they actively protect their own well-being. The relentless white noise of the fume hood mirrors the chronic activation of the nervous system many biotech founders endure, a state described by Bessel van der Kolk, MD, psychiatrist and trauma researcher, who emphasizes how trauma lodges itself in the body. When a founder’s nervous system remains trapped in fight, flight, or freeze, decisions falter and health deteriorates.
Founders like Priya who make it through this phase intact have often integrated trauma-informed leadership practices that honor both the mission and their physical limits. They recognize that the mission is sacred, but their bodies are not sacrificial objects. This balance is critical to sustaining the long, nonlinear timelines of drug development, especially when faced with setbacks like key team departures or regulatory delays. Executive coaching and therapy can provide essential space for founders to process grief and betrayal without losing sight of the company’s trajectory. For women leaders, this often involves examineing caregiver wounds and the emotional labor embedded in biotech culture.
Priya’s solitary vigil over the slide is a testament to the tension between relentless commitment and necessary self-preservation. Her presence in the lab, even on a Sunday night, reflects the identity fusion so common in biotech founder psychology, where the company and self are deeply intertwined. Yet, the slide’s intact label also signals that she has not yet sacrificed herself entirely. She is still here, still standing, still holding the mission—and herself—in precarious but conscious balance. For those navigating this terrain, resources like the Founders hub offer guidance on sustaining both company and self across the long haul.
Q: Is biotech founding actually harder psychologically than software founding?
A: Biotech founding often presents unique psychological challenges compared to software founding due to the deeply personal connection many founders have with their scientific mission. The long timelines, regulatory hurdles, and the tangible impact on human health can create a profound emotional investment. Unlike software ventures, where iterations and pivots can happen rapidly, biotech founders frequently face extended periods of uncertainty and high stakes that affect not only their business but also their sense of purpose and identity. This intensity can lead to feelings of isolation, burnout, and self-doubt. Understanding these pressures with compassion and seeking support tailored to the biotech context can help founders sustain their resilience and well-being throughout their journey.
Q: Why does building a biotech company recreate caregiver wounds for women?
A: Building a biotech company often mirrors the emotional dynamics many women experienced as caregivers, reigniting old wounds. The relentless demands of leading scientific innovation can echo the constant caregiving roles women have held, where their needs were secondary to others’. This dynamic can trigger feelings of invisibility, self-doubt, and exhaustion, as the founder strives to balance mission-driven work with personal well-being. The deep commitment to both the science and the people involved can blur boundaries, making it difficult to prioritize self-care. Recognizing these patterns allows women founders to approach their leadership with greater compassion and awareness, fostering resilience without sacrificing their emotional health.
Q: How do I keep the mission sacred without letting it consume my body?
A: Keeping your mission sacred while protecting your body requires intentional boundaries and self-awareness. Your dedication to science and innovation is profound, but it’s essential to recognize the signs of physical and emotional strain early. Prioritize rest, nutrition, and movement as non-negotiable parts of your routine. Allow yourself permission to step back without guilt—pausing can actually deepen your connection to the mission rather than weaken it. Cultivating a support system, whether through peers, mentors, or therapy, provides a space to process challenges and maintain perspective. sustaining your well-being fuels the longevity and impact of your work. Your mission benefits most when your body and mind are cared for with the same commitment you bring to your scientific pursuits.
Q: What happens when a key scientist quits and the IP walks with them?
A: When a key scientist leaves a biotech startup and takes intellectual property with them, the impact can be deeply destabilizing. The loss often triggers feelings of betrayal, uncertainty, and vulnerability within the founding team. Beyond the immediate operational challenges, founders may experience a profound sense of personal and professional loss, as the mission they’ve poured themselves into feels compromised. This situation calls for thoughtful reflection and emotional processing alongside strategic responses. Founders benefit from acknowledging the emotional weight of this event, seeking support, and carefully reassessing their company’s direction and legal protections. While the setback is significant, it can also prompt a renewed focus on team cohesion, clearer agreements, and reinforcing the company’s core values and vision.
Q: Should I tell my board the mission is breaking me?
A: Sharing with your board that the mission is taking a personal toll can be a courageous and strategic step. Transparency fosters trust and can open the door for support, whether through resources, adjustments in expectations, or access to mental health services. Founders often carry immense responsibility, and acknowledging the emotional weight can help humanize leadership and create a culture where well-being is valued alongside scientific progress. Approach the conversation with clarity about your commitment to the mission while honestly expressing the challenges you face. This balance can encourage collaborative problem-solving and prevent burnout before it impacts the company’s vision and your health.
Q: How do I survive a 12-year drug development timeline without losing my life?
A: Surviving a 12-year drug development timeline requires intentional self-care and boundary-setting alongside your scientific mission. Recognize that your identity extends beyond your work—nurture relationships, hobbies, and rest as essential parts of your resilience. Establish regular check-ins with a therapist or coach familiar with founder challenges to process stress and prevent burnout. Cultivating a support network of peers who understand the unique emotional toll can provide validation and shared strategies. Celebrate small milestones to sustain motivation over the long haul, and allow yourself grace when setbacks occur. Prioritizing mental and emotional well-being is not a distraction from your mission but a necessary foundation to sustain it through the years ahead.
Q: Does therapy help with mission burnout specifically?
A: Therapy can be a vital support for biotech founders experiencing mission burnout. The intense commitment to scientific innovation often blurs personal boundaries, leading to emotional exhaustion and a sense of disconnection from one’s original purpose. Through therapy, founders can gain clarity on their values, recognize patterns of self-neglect, and develop strategies to restore balance. A therapist familiar with the biotech world can provide a safe space to process the unique stresses tied to both the science and the mission. This support fosters resilience, helping founders sustain their passion while caring for their mental and emotional well-being. Therapy offers more than symptom relief—it cultivates sustainable ways to engage with the mission without sacrificing personal health.
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Annie Wright, LMFT
LMFT · Relational Trauma Specialist · W.W. Norton Author
Helping ambitious women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.
Annie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist (LMFT #95719) and trauma-informed executive coach with over 15,000 clinical hours. She works with driven, ambitious 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 Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
