The Good Girl Collapse in Perimenopause: When the Performance Finally Ends
For decades, many driven women have run a performance so effortless-seeming they’ve forgotten it’s a performance: the good girl script. Perimenopause is often the chapter when that script stops working. Not because something has gone wrong, but because the body, in its biological wisdom, finally refuses to keep running it. This post explores the psychology of the good girl collapse, why it happens in midlife, what’s underneath it, and how to move through it toward something more real.
Last updated: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT
- The Moment in the Auditorium
- What Is the Good Girl Script?
- The Neurobiology of the Good Girl Collapse
- How the Collapse Shows Up in Driven Women
- When the Script Stops Working
- Both/And: Grieve Her, Thank Her, Then Let Her Rest
- The Systemic Lens: Perimenopause as a Political Act of Undoing
- How to Heal: Embracing the Real You
- Frequently Asked Questions
The Good Girl Collapse in perimenopause describes the phenomenon in which hormonal and neurological shifts erode a driven woman’s capacity to maintain the performance of agreeable, self-erasing femininity she’s been running for decades. It’s not a breakdown in the pathological sense; it’s a biological reckoning in which the good girl script finally stops working. Many women experience it as confusion, irritability, sudden intolerance for dynamics they used to manage with ease, and profound grief. In my work with driven women, the hardest part is usually convincing them that this collapse isn’t failure, it’s the first honest moment in years.
In short: The Good Girl Collapse in perimenopause occurs when hormonal shifts erode a driven woman’s capacity to maintain decades of performative agreeableness, forcing a reckoning with the self she set aside.
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I’ve worked with women at the intersection of perimenopause and relational trauma recovery across more than 15,000 clinical hours, and the pattern of collapse and reclamation is one of the most consistent I observe in this life stage. Ravenna Helson, PhD, whose landmark longitudinal research on women’s midlife development documented the significant identity reorganization that accompanies the fifth decade, provides the developmental research foundation for this post (Helson 1997).
The Moment in the Auditorium
Grace, a composite drawn from many years of this work, sits in the auditorium, the hum of excited chatter a dull roar around her. Her daughter is on stage, beaming, accepting an award for academic excellence at her eighth-grade graduation. A wave of pride washes over Grace. Quickly followed by a chilling realization. A clarity that stops her breath.
Her daughter is exactly the age Grace was when she first learned to perform. Eight years old, the year she understood that being loved required being good. Being safe required not taking up too much space. Being wanted required never causing trouble. The performance has been running ever since. A relentless, exhausting marathon that she’s been calling her personality.
The applause for her daughter fades, but the echo of Grace’s own childhood performance rings deafeningly in her ears. Forty-seven years old, at the top of her career, surrounded by people who admire her. And she can feel, with the strange clarity that perimenopause sometimes delivers, that she’s been performing this entire time. And she’s not sure she can keep going.
If that scene resonates with you. If there’s a part of you that’s exhausted in a way that sleep doesn’t fix, a part of you that’s been being good for so long you’ve forgotten what you actually want. This post is for you.
What Is the Good Girl Script?
In my work with clients, I see a pattern emerge consistently among driven women: a deeply ingrained script that dictates behavior, choices, and self-worth. It’s what I call the good girl script, and it’s a performance many women learn early in life. Often without conscious awareness. This script is woven from societal expectations, familial dynamics, and a fundamental misunderstanding of conditional love. It teaches that value is contingent upon the ability to please, to achieve, to be agreeable, to avoid conflict at all costs.
Carol Gilligan, PhD, developmental psychologist and professor at New York University, whose landmark work In a Different Voice fundamentally reframed our understanding of women’s moral development, documented how girls as young as eleven begin to silence their authentic voices in order to preserve relationships. The good girl script, as Gilligan’s research demonstrates, is a developmental pathway where girls learn to prioritize connection and care for others. Often at the expense of their own needs and voice. Leading to a suppression of authentic self-expression in favor of maintaining social harmony.
In plain terms: You learn that being a good girl means putting everyone else’s needs before your own. And over time, you lose touch with what you actually want or feel. The performance becomes indistinguishable from the person.
This script isn’t just about being polite or well-behaved. It’s a profound internal framework that shapes identity. It’s about seeking external validation as the primary source of self-worth. A constant striving for perfection that leaves little room for error or genuine self-acceptance. The good girl believes her worth is earned, not inherent. She’s driven by a fear of rejection, a deep-seated anxiety that if she stops performing, she’ll be unloved, unwanted, or simply forgotten.
Peter Walker, MA, psychotherapist specializing in complex trauma and author of Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving, describes the fawn response as a trauma response characterized by people-pleasing, appeasement, and an excessive focus on meeting the needs of others to avoid conflict or danger. It’s a survival strategy where an individual attempts to become indispensable or agreeable to their perceived aggressor or environment. A fourth option alongside fight, flight, and freeze.
In plain terms: When you’re in a tough situation, instead of fighting, fleeing, or freezing, you try to make everyone happy and agreeable to keep yourself safe. For many good girls, this becomes the default setting. Even when there’s no longer any danger.
Alice Miller, PhD, psychoanalyst and author of The Drama of the Gifted Child, named this dynamic with devastating precision: the child who learns to suppress her authentic emotional life in order to secure the love of her caregivers becomes an adult who doesn’t know what she actually feels, wants, or needs. She has been performing so long that the performance has become indistinguishable from the self.
Perimenopause is the chapter where that distinction can no longer be avoided. The body, in its biological wisdom, begins to refuse the performance. And what’s underneath finally has a chance to surface. This isn’t pathology. This is, in many ways, a biological gift. However uncomfortable and inconveniently timed.
The Neurobiology of the Good Girl Collapse
For decades, the good girl has operated under a constant, low-grade hum of stress. The need to perform, to please, to anticipate others’ needs, and to suppress her own authentic responses creates a chronic activation of the nervous system. This isn’t just psychological. It’s deeply physiological. Bessel van der Kolk, MD, psychiatrist and trauma researcher and author of The Body Keeps the Score, articulates this with precision: the body keeps a running tally of everything the mind tries to manage away. Over time, this chronic activation leads to what researchers call allostatic load.
Allostatic load, as described in research published by Rosemberg and colleagues in PubMed Central (2020), is the cumulative wear and tear on the body and brain resulting from chronic exposure to stress. It reflects the physiological costs of chronic adaptation to stressors, leading to dysregulation across multiple bodily systems. Neuroendocrine, cardiovascular, and immune. Women who have spent decades absorbing emotional labor, managing others’ needs, and suppressing their own carry a measurably higher allostatic burden.
In plain terms: It’s the total burden of chronic stress on your body. Like a car that’s been running in high gear for decades. At some point, it stops being able to maintain that speed. Perimenopause is often when the warning lights finally come on.
This allostatic load. Built up over years of people-pleasing and performance. Meets a formidable challenge during perimenopause. Estrogen plays a crucial role in regulating mood, sleep, and the stress response. As its levels become erratic, the brain’s ability to manage stress. Which was already taxed by the good girl script. Becomes significantly compromised.
Lisa Mosconi, PhD, neuroscientist at Weill Cornell Medicine and author of The Menopause Brain, describes perimenopause as a neurological earthquake for many women. Research by Gordon and colleagues shows that fluctuations in estradiol are linked to increased sensitivity to stress and depressive symptoms during this phase. The nervous system, accustomed to running on high alert, finds itself without its usual hormonal support.
The result is that the old coping mechanisms. Perfectionism, people-pleasing, performance. Become less effective and far more exhausting. The system can no longer sustain the energy-intensive good girl performance. This can manifest as heightened anxiety, increased irritability, profound fatigue, and a dramatically reduced tolerance for situations that previously would’ve been handled with ease. If you’ve found yourself thinking “I used to be able to handle so much more”. This is why. You’re not weaker. Your nervous system is working harder with fewer hormonal resources, while carrying decades of accumulated load.
Grace, whose forty-seven years of quiet performance we met in the opening, describes this in her own words: “I used to be able to hold everything. Deposition prep, my mother’s doctor appointments, the school pickup rotation, my husband’s work anxiety, my own reading, my running, my sleep. Now if one thing goes sideways, the whole day breaks.” What Grace is describing isn’t weakness. It’s the arithmetic of allostatic load meeting a nervous system without its usual hormonal buffer. The math has changed. The person hasn’t.
Research also shows that women with higher role overload, responsibility for too many competing demands, experience significantly higher rates of perimenopausal depression and anxiety. The good girl’s life is, by definition, a life of role overload. Perimenopause is when the bill comes due.
How the Collapse Shows Up in Driven Women
In my practice, I’ve witnessed countless variations of the good girl collapse. Particularly among driven women who have built their lives on precisely the foundation this script provides. These are women who have excelled in every arena: academically, professionally, personally. They’re the physicians, the executives, the law partners, the academics, the founders. They’ve been rewarded for their diligence, their selflessness, their ability to anticipate and meet every expectation.
Consider Grace, 46, a corporate attorney who sits in my office with her shoulders slumped, the usual sharp precision in her voice replaced by a weary monotone. She recounts her story: top of her class at an Ivy League university, partner track at a prestigious law firm, a seemingly perfect marriage, two well-adjusted children. On paper, she’s the epitome of success.
Yet as she speaks, a realization dawns on her that she’s been avoiding for decades. Every single one of these achievements, she admits, was a bid for love. A desperate attempt to earn affection and approval she felt was missing in her early life. She sees now, with heartbreaking clarity, that the love she sought was never going to come from external sources. Her achievements, once her greatest source of pride, now feel like a heavy burden. A testament to a lifelong performance that has left her depleted and profoundly disconnected from herself.
The perimenopausal shifts. The sleep disturbances, the brain fog, the unexpected surges of anxiety. Have stripped away her ability to maintain the facade, leaving her raw and exposed to the truth of her own unfulfilled needs. What I want to name for Grace. And for you, if you recognize yourself here. Is that this stripping away isn’t a breakdown. It’s a breakthrough that looks, from the inside, a lot like falling apart.
This is the insidious nature of the good girl script in driven women: it masquerades as ambition, as dedication, as strength. It allows women to climb corporate ladders, manage complex households, and juggle myriad responsibilities with apparent ease. But the internal cost is immense. The constant self-monitoring, the suppression of authentic feelings, the relentless pursuit of external validation. These aren’t sustainable strategies. Perimenopause is the disruptor that forces the confrontation. You can read more about how this intersects with professional identity in my post on perimenopause in founders and perimenopausal law partners.
When the Script Stops Working
What happens when the good girl script, once a reliable blueprint for moving through the world, begins to fray? For many women in perimenopause, the carefully constructed edifice of their identity starts to crumble. The hormonal shifts, coupled with the accumulated allostatic load, mean that the old strategies simply don’t work anymore. The energy required to maintain the performance becomes unsustainable, and the internal systems that once supported it begin to shut down.
Marriages that were built on a foundation of appeasement and self-sacrifice can buckle under the weight of newly emerging boundaries and a refusal to continue the old dance. Friendships rooted in a woman’s role as the perpetual caregiver can feel strained or even break as she reclaims her own needs. At work, the drive for perfection and the willingness to take on endless tasks can give way to burnout, resentment, and a profound questioning of career choices that once felt central to identity. The woman who once prided herself on her ability to juggle everything with grace now finds herself dropping things, feeling overwhelmed, and struggling to recognize herself.
Grace, when I saw her the week after her daughter’s graduation, spoke about this differently than she had in any prior session. “My husband asked me last night to help him practice a client presentation,” she told me. “And I heard myself say no. Not politely. Not with a promise to help later. Just no. And then I went upstairs and cried, because I could feel the whole architecture of the marriage shifting under that one syllable.” That’s what the collapse actually feels like from inside. Not a decision. A no that arrives before the good girl has a chance to intercept it.
What I want to name here’s that the collapse isn’t the problem. The collapse is the solution. The problem was the decades-long performance. The collapse is the body and psyche finally saying: we can’t do this anymore. And that refusal. However chaotic, however frightening. Is the beginning of something real.
Clarissa Pinkola Estés, PhD, Jungian analyst and author of Women Who Run With the Wolves, describes this as the return of the wild woman. The instinctual, authentic self that has been domesticated into compliance. She writes about the woman who has been too long in captivity, who has forgotten the sound of her own voice. Perimenopause, in Estés’ framework, is the moment the cage door swings open. Not gently. Not conveniently. But irrevocably.
“A life truly lived constantly burns away veils of illusion, burns away what is no longer relevant, gradually reveals our essence.”
MARION WOODMAN, Jungian Analyst and Author of Addiction to Perfection
This burning away of illusion, while painful, is necessary. The good girl collapse feels like an ending, but is an invitation to shed the layers of conditioning and reclaim the authentic self buried beneath decades of performance. The woman who emerges is often more grounded, more authentic, and more fiercely protective of her own truth. For more, see the post on perimenopause and identity crisis.
Both/And: Grieve Her, Thank Her, Then Let Her Rest
This work of moving through the good girl collapse isn’t about demonizing the part of you that played that role. Far from it. The truth is, the good girl protected you. She was a brilliant, adaptive strategy forged in the crucible of your early life, designed to keep you safe, loved, and connected. She helped you move through complex family dynamics, achieve academic and professional success, and build relationships. She was, in many ways, a loyal and diligent servant.
And for that, she deserves your gratitude and your grief. This is the profound both/and of this perimenopausal unraveling: the good girl protected you, and she now needs to be retired. These two things are simultaneously true. You don’t have to choose between honoring what she did and recognizing that she’s no longer what you need.
Consider Ankita, a composite drawn from many years of this work, 52, a successful architect who for decades was the emotional linchpin of her extended family. The one who organized every holiday, mediated every conflict, and listened patiently to every complaint, often at the expense of her own peace. During perimenopause, the energetic cost of this role became unbearable. She found herself snapping at loved ones, withdrawing from social engagements, experiencing a fury she’d never allowed herself to feel before.
In therapy, Ankita realized that her role as the family’s good girl had, for years, protected her from confronting deeper family dysfunctions and her own unmet needs for support. It was a painful realization. And also a liberating one. She began to grieve the loss of that familiar, albeit exhausting, identity. She understood that while it had once served a purpose, it was now actively preventing her from living a more authentic and balanced life. Her perimenopausal body, with its new demands and dramatically reduced tolerance for emotional labor, was forcing her hand. Compelling her to finally say no where she had always said yes.
This grieving process is essential. The good girl, in her unwavering dedication, has reached the end of her tenure. She’s tired. And you’re tired of carrying her. The invitation now is to thank her, acknowledge her protective intentions, and allow her to step aside, making room for a more integrated, authentic self.
This isn’t about becoming a “bad girl.” It’s about becoming a whole woman. Capable of discerning her own needs and advocating for them with clarity and grace. The grief dimension of perimenopause is real, and the loss of this identity is one of its most significant but least-discussed forms. If you’re struggling with the grief, you’re not alone. This is one of the most common experiences I see in my practice, and it’s one that responds beautifully to support.
The Fixing the Foundations™ course was designed precisely for women who are ready to understand the relational patterns beneath their performance. And build something more sustainable in their place. It’s work you can do at your own pace, in the margins of the life you’re already living.
The Systemic Lens: Perimenopause as a Political Act of Undoing
The good girl script doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s not merely an individual psychological phenomenon. It’s deeply embedded within broader systemic structures that benefit immensely from its perpetuation. When we examine the good girl through a systemic lens, we see how patriarchy, capitalism, and dysfunctional family systems all rely on and reinforce the conditioning that teaches women to prioritize others’ needs, suppress their own voices, and strive for an unattainable ideal of perfection.
Patriarchy benefits from women conditioned to be nurturing, self-sacrificing, and non-confrontational, women whose contributions are undervalued and whose anger is pathologized. Capitalism profits from the good girl. Her inherent drive to achieve and her fear of not being enough make her a perfect consumer and an ideal employee, constantly working harder and rarely questioning the system.
Mary Pipher, PhD, psychologist and author of Women Rowing North, suggests that midlife can be a time when women begin to shed the roles that no longer serve them, becoming more authentic and less concerned with external approval. The hormonal shifts, the physical discomforts, the brain fog, the emotional volatility. These aren’t just symptoms. They’re biological signals that the old ways of being are no longer sustainable. The body, in its wisdom, refuses to continue the performance.
When a woman in perimenopause begins to say no. To unreasonable demands at work, to emotional labor in relationships, to societal expectations that diminish her. She isn’t just making a personal choice. She’s disrupting a system. Her newfound intolerance for injustice, her emerging anger, her refusal to people-please, her demand for authentic connection. These are all acts of resistance. They challenge the foundations upon which these systems are built.
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Grace, six months into our work together, said something that has stayed with me. She had just declined a partnership committee assignment that would’ve required her to travel through her daughter’s birthday weekend. “The firm has been asking women to do this kind of thing for decades,” she said. “I’ve been saying yes for decades. My no isn’t just for me. It’s for the associates watching me.” She wasn’t performing self-care. She was, quietly and without slogan, doing the political work of undoing.
The good girl collapse, viewed through this lens, isn’t merely a personal crisis. It’s a powerful, collective awakening. A biological push toward liberation that has profound implications not just for the individual woman but for every system she inhabits. Her healing is never just her own. The perimenopause ADHD research points in a similar direction: many symptoms that have been pathologized in women at midlife are, in fact, adaptive responses to systems that have been demanding the impossible. Understanding this changes everything about how you approach your own experience.
How to Heal: Embracing the Real You
The good girl collapse, while disorienting, isn’t an end. It’s the crucible from which a more authentic self can emerge. This isn’t about becoming a “bad girl”. It’s about shedding the performance and stepping into who you actually are.
Trauma-informed therapy is one of the most crucial elements in this work. Nervous systems shaped by the good girl script often carry decades of relational material that responds well to clinical support. Judith Herman, MD, psychiatrist and author of Trauma and Recovery, describes healing as restoring safety, reconstructing the narrative, and reconnecting with others. If you’ve been running this script, working with a trauma-informed therapist can help you complete the transition rather than just survive it.
Menopause-literate care is equally vital. The biological shifts are central to this unraveling, not background noise. Lisa Mosconi’s research on the neurobiological impact of fluctuating hormones can normalize what you’re experiencing and point toward concrete strategies. This care extends beyond medical interventions to include lifestyle adjustments, nutritional support, and respect for the body’s wisdom. Reading HRT through a therapist’s lens can help you approach these conversations with your providers with clarity.
Radical permission is the third element. Permission to feel your feelings. To set boundaries. To say no without guilt. To be messy, uncertain, and fully human. This is the antidote to decades of conditional living: the internal voice that says you’re enough, without having to earn it. It’s the foundation for a life aligned with your actual values rather than the echoes of an old script.
And finally: community. One of the most healing realizations available to women in the good girl collapse is discovering that they aren’t alone in this. The essay archive is one place where that community lives. A weekly conversation that names what’s actually happening for driven women in midlife. You don’t have to walk this alone. You never did.
Grace, two years into her recovery from the good girl script, isn’t the woman who sat in the auditorium that night. She’s still a corporate attorney. She’s still ambitious. She still loves her daughter, still runs a household, still shows up. What’s different is that she now knows the difference between showing up as herself and showing up as a performance of herself. Some days she still slips. Most days she doesn’t. And on the days she does, she recognizes it faster, forgives it more easily, and returns to her own life sooner.
The woman on the other side of the good girl collapse isn’t perfect. But she’s whole. She’s not performing, but she’s powerfully present. She is, finally, herself.
If any of this is resonating and you’d like to talk about working together, you can connect with Annie here.
PERIMENOPAUSE LIBRARY
This is one piece of a larger conversation. Browse Annie’s complete perimenopause library. 42 articles organized by symptom, identity, relationships, profession, and treatment.
Warmly, Annie
Q: How do I know if I’m a “good girl” in the way you’re describing?
A: Some markers: you find it easier to identify what others need than what you need. You feel anxious when someone is displeased with you, even when you know you did nothing wrong. Your sense of self-worth is closely tied to your achievements and others’ approval. You’ve spent more time managing other people’s feelings than experiencing your own. You’re exhausted in a way that doesn’t respond to rest. If several of those land, you’re likely running some version of this script.
Q: How do I stop being a good girl without feeling like a terrible person?
A: Start small. Begin by practicing noticing. Without immediately acting. Notice when you want to say no but say yes instead. Notice when you’re about to apologize reflexively. You don’t have to change all the behavior at once. You just have to start seeing it clearly. Therapy, particularly trauma-informed approaches, can be invaluable in identifying the roots of the script and developing new coping mechanisms that don’t require self-abandonment as the entry fee.
Q: Is it too late to change? I’m 52.
A: It’s absolutely not too late. In fact, perimenopause is often the most potent window for exactly this kind of transformation. The biological shifts make it harder to continue the old patterns. Which means they create an involuntary opening for something more authentic. Many women report that their most profound self-reclamation happens in their late forties and fifties. The timing isn’t accidental. It’s biological wisdom.
Q: Why does retiring the good girl feel like grief?
A: Because it’s grief. You’re letting go of a significant part of your identity. A part that, however limiting, offered a sense of safety, belonging, and predictability. You may grieve the loss of external approval. You may grieve the familiar structure of a life lived by a clear script. You may even grieve the relationships that were built on your people-pleasing, because those relationships may shift or end as you change. This grief is valid and necessary. And it’s a sign the transformation is real.
Q: Will my relationships survive this?
A: Some won’t only survive but deepen significantly. These are the relationships built on genuine connection and mutual respect, which will be able to accommodate a more authentic you. Others, particularly those that relied on your people-pleasing or self-sacrifice, may struggle or end. That’s painful. It’s also a necessary pruning that creates space for more reciprocal and fulfilling connections. The goal isn’t to preserve every relationship as it was. It’s to build relationships that can hold who you’re becoming.
Q: What does “the real me” even mean at this point?
A: The real you is the self that exists beneath the layers of conditioning and performance. She’s the part of you that knows what you actually want, feel, and believe. Independent of external validation. She’s often discovered through introspection, self-compassion, and the courage to explore your inner landscape. She’s probably been trying to get your attention for years. Perimenopause is often what finally makes her loud enough to hear.
Q: How do I know I’m actually doing the work and not just spinning?
A: Signs you’re actually moving: your tolerance for dishonesty. Including your own. Is decreasing. You’re setting small boundaries and surviving the discomfort afterward. You’re starting to know, even when you don’t act on it, what you actually feel. You’re less afraid of other people’s disappointment than you were six months ago. Progress isn’t linear. But it does have texture. You’ll feel the difference between spinning in self-awareness and actually metabolizing something.
Warmly,
Annie
Related Reading
- Estés, Clarissa Pinkola. Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype. Ballantine Books, 1992.
- Gilligan, Carol. In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women’s Development. Harvard University Press, 1982.
- Herman, Judith Lewis. Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence. From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books, 1992.
- Miller, Alice. The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self. Basic Books, 2008.
- Mosconi, Lisa. The Menopause Brain: The New Science Empowering Women to Navigate Midlife with Knowledge and Confidence. Avery, 2024.
- Pipher, Mary. Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents and Flourishing As We Age. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2019.
- van der Kolk, Bessel A. The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking, 2014.
- Woodman, Marion. Addiction to Perfection: The Still Unravished Bride. Inner City Books, 1982.
- Lerner, Harriet Goldhor. The Dance of Anger: A Woman’s Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships. Harper Perennial, 2005.
References
Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)
- van der Kolk BA, Wang JB, Yehuda R, Bedrosian L, Coker AR, Harrison C, et al. Effects of MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD on self-experience. PLoS One. 2024;19(1):e0295926. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0295926. PMID: 38198456.
- Cloitre M, Stolbach BC, Herman JL, van der Kolk B, Pynoos R, Wang J, et al. A developmental approach to complex PTSD: childhood and adult cumulative trauma as predictors of symptom complexity. J Trauma Stress. 2009;22(5):399-408. doi:10.1002/jts.20444. PMID: 19795402.
Books & Cultural Sources (Chicago Author-Date)
- Estés, Clarissa Pinkola. Women Who Run with the Wolves. Vintage, 1982.
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Annie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist (LMFT #95719) and trauma-informed executive coach with over 15,000 clinical hours. She works with 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, NBC News, and The Information. She’s currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
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