I wasn’t supposed to be a therapist. I was supposed to be a veterinarian.
That was the plan my whole childhood: Purdue, pre-vet, get through the hard science courses, and do the thing I’d always dreamed of. But then fate—and Psychology 101—intervened. An eccentric, engaging professor made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a while: excitement.
Meanwhile, my biochem course felt like it was designed to weed people out. But psych? It lit me up. I loved listening to people’s stories. I loved thinking deeply. I realized that more than anything, I wanted to be a better human being. That was the moment I thought: Wait… am I changing majors?!
And I did. But not just that. I changed schools. I changed jobs. I changed my life. I started working with kids who were struggling and realized, “I just want to help.” That was it. That was my why. I spent hours reading, reflecting, learning. For a while, I thought religion had the monopoly on that kind of growth. But now I was discovering that maybe I had agency. Maybe I could change lives—including my own.
This was it. I’d found my path.
Until it broke me.
I was young. The work was hard. I saw teens cut themselves, rage, give up. The stress was unbearable. I still wanted to help—desperately—but I needed a break. I finished my psychology degree and swore I’d never go back to school. I did construction, retail, factory work—all the 20-something survival jobs. But the feeling never left me: I’m meant to do more.
So I joined AmeriCorps.
Someone mentioned social work. “You know, if you want to help people for real, be a therapist.” I didn’t even know what that meant, but it stuck. Around the same time, the Peace Corps started calling to me. Helping people and understanding more about the world? Yes. Both programs accepted me—on the same day.
I chose grad school. Then, after a short stint as a new therapist, I followed the Peace Corps pull to Mongolia. Two years abroad gave me the clarity I needed: this is the work I’m meant to do. But not in the way the systems have taught us to do it. Something’s still off.
And that brings me here—back home, and back to you.
I became a therapist because I believed people could change—and because I wanted to be a part of that process.
What I didn’t know then was how much I would be changed along the way.
Over the years, I’ve sat with so many stories. Stories of pain, resilience, injustice, healing. I’ve felt both honored and overwhelmed. I’ve loved this work—and I’ve also questioned how sustainable it really is when the systems surrounding us don’t always reflect the care we try to offer.
I’m still here. But not because the path has been easy. I’ve burned out. I’ve questioned whether I was in the right place. I’ve thought, “If this is happening to me, what’s happening to all of us?”
That question has stayed with me.
So I’m building something. Something that centers therapists. Something that makes room for our full stories—our needs, our growth, our leadership.
But I don’t want to do it alone. I want to hear from you.
What’s your story?
What has helped you stay?
What’s made you want to leave?
What do you wish existed in our profession—but doesn’t yet?
I’m collecting stories, insights, frustrations, and hopes. Not just to vent—but to create.
I believe we can make this better, together. But I need your voice in it.
Drop a comment. Send me a message. Tell me your truth. Let’s imagine what’s possible—and start building it.
More soon.