My connection with psychology began in high school, when I was living alone in the U.S. for the first time. I took an introductory psychology class and was completely drawn in. Even though my parents hoped I would study business, I chose to follow my own curiosity and step onto the path of counseling. There were moments of doubt along the way, but I’ve never regretted that decision.

During my time doing peer-support work, I realized how many young people were struggling silently. Their pain was often too complex to fit into a quick conversation, and what they truly lacked was a safe, nonjudgmental space where they could speak freely. Simply being understood and being met with empathy made a real difference for them, and that experience shaped the way I wanted to work as a therapist.

When I worked with couples and families, I saw how deeply our early environments shape the way we love, communicate, and relate. A child who grows up in a family where emotions are rarely acknowledged may become someone who doesn’t know how to express themselves in adulthood, becoming a “people pleaser” instead, rooted in early wounds around self-worth. In relationships, when one partner becomes avoidant and the other increasingly anxious, old childhood patterns resurface: the unseen child, the unheard emotions, the longing for connection. These patterns can carry their own form of trauma.

Working with BIPOC clients taught me even more about trauma, especially the kind that accumulates over years within systemic structures. Trauma isn’t always a single event; sometimes it is the dozens of smaller wounds that were never addressed, gradually piling up until someone no longer recognizes why they feel so overwhelmed. I also learned that empathy alone isn’t always enough. As the saying goes, “the body keeps the score.” The brain and nervous system hold patterns long after the mind tries to move on. This is why I pursued EMDR. I want to integrate scientific, evidence-based tools to help clients process trauma in a way that feels safe and sustainable.

My work with individuals struggling with eating disorders has further deepened my understanding. I’ve seen how someone’s relationship with food often reflects so much more than body image. It reflects a deep sense of low self-esteem, a way of masking emotions, a need for control, perfectionistic pressure, or an attempt to cope with emptiness and uncertainty. Bingeing may temporarily soothe, but often comes with self-blame and shame. Purging can reflect a fractured relationship with self-worth. Beneath all of this lies a complicated web of family dynamics, cultural expectations, and inner emotional landscapes. Exploring these layers with my clients and helping them rebuild a healthier sense of order, nourishment, and self-trust has become deeply meaningful to me.

Across all these experiences, my understanding of therapy has slowly expanded. From high school to now, I’ve grown step by step, supported by the people I’ve met and the stories clients have trusted me with. And I hope to continue growing alongside the clients I work with, to explore, to understand, and to heal together.