Tag Archives: therapy

Storytelling as Medicine

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We are in the season of Spring where i live, which is represented by the element of Air. This is the time of new beginnings, the fresh air of change, the rebirth and the sunrise as a new dawn. Air is connected to the suit of swords in Tarot, which are all about action, ambition, courage and change. Air is also magical for the speaker and listener. We use our words, and repeat them into the air by casting a spell with our words. When we speak out loud what we want, we are in fact speaking our truth more assertively and intentionally.

Storytelling is one of the oldest and most universal forms of community-building. We are not meant to tell stories alone, they are meant to be shared. And, since we are social creatures, we heal in healthy relationships. I view storytelling as a resource for healing, growth and transformation. Integration and acceptance of a new life transition or realization cannot truly happen without being witnessed and companioned through it. Stories are meant to be shared with listeners who hold space for the story and teller, both. This form of holding space ultimately becomes a catalyst to be more fully actualized as ourselves.

Here are some ways that i have found being a story listener to be a central piece in how i work and hold space as a psychotherapist. As a psychotherapist who works from a feminist, narrative framework, story-telling and listening, as well as holding space is a big part of the alchemy that happens in my therapy sessions. Feminist Narrative Therapy is a post-modern modality of therapy that is based in a deeper connection to the subjective meaning that is typically lost in everyday conversations.

Talk therapy gets a bad wrap and yet I’ve noticed that it is through speaking out loud that we get the opportunity of integration that helps our cognitive parts understand the information we receive from our body. We need to talk in order to process the work of everyday life. It is a balance of both/and of talking and doing. We offer this integration after major trips and pilgrimages, or a psychedelic immersion. Birth story processing is a key resource to help folks heal from birth trauma. Sometimes the experience is quiet reflection alone, or in a journal, but it is typically recapping or debriefing the story that unfolded regardless.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~ Maya Angelou

I used to work as a front-line crisis counsellor for folks who experienced gender-based violence. One of the strongest messages in the gender-based violence sector is that ‘your silence will not protect you.’ These powerful words by Audre Lorde are a direct proclamation of the power of healing that can happen when we share the truth of our lives. We also now know that we do not need to in fact go over our past traumas in chronologically story-book form in order to heal them. This is not how healing works, and yet when a person wants to be witnessed in their resilience and strength, that is also a powerfully catalyst to get to heal. One of the programs that i was most honoured to organize was an annual gathering for the people we supported. We would spend the day together, in workshops and intentionally sharing stories of healing and resilience. One of the stages of Post-Traumatic Growth is to share our story as a way to heal, and to also be an inspiration for others.

Stories help heal shame, as it is in the shared experience and common humanity that we offer a balm to shame, which would otherwise thrive in isolation. I have found this especially empowering for the people i support who may carry limiting beliefs about themselves, their bodies, or how they gave birth, or the break-up or break-down they experienced.

Some stories do not have to be real to be impactful. They jut need to be relatable in some way.

Archetype stories have become a special kind of steward for me, in so many ways – when i became an adult, a mother, and also in the years since becoming motherless. Now, as i surrender to perimenopause i am once again reading the feminine-based archetypal stories that feature wise women, medicine women, wild women, hags and crones. Myths and fairy/folk tales offer a universal truth for all of us, as well as a map that is possible for us. Any one of us can read the story and glean something that is familiar in it that reflects our own lived reality. This is comforting and affirming.

Marion Woodman was a great advocate for archetypal stories. In her book The Maiden King she shares this: “Our bodies love metaphors because they join our bodies to our soul rather than abandoning them to a soulless state. The ancient alchemists called this body soul state “the subtle body”. They believed that the deeper we go into the subtle body, the greater the soul treasures it contains.” I would take this point a step further and connect it to how stories in general are a way to deepen our relationship with our soul. If you have ever been in my therapy room with me, you will know that i love to share a good story as a metaphor as a way to explain a theory or experience.

Just as we are not meant to be alone with a story to tell, so too are we not meant to be alone in our grief. Transformation can happen for grievers when they are able to share these stories with someone who holds space for them, and both welcomes and encourages the stories to flow. This is done through the power of storytelling.

When my mom died, something that i found so kind and generous was when people in my life asked me to talk about her, to share her stories, to honour her legacy. In my own therapy practice, i offer grief work and tending to the broken hearts of someone who has experienced loss. I see how transformative this dedicated time is in the healing journey. It is through the process of being seen and heard that anyone who is grieving a loss can feel more held and less alone. Incorporating narrative in this stage is a helpful way to establish a more full sense of self.

Taking this a step further, when people are given an audience that is both compassionate and attuned, links can be made to the story and to their own life. For instance, I have found solace in cleaning out my mother’s things. Being able to share the experience of cleaning out my mother’s belongings is a universally understood rite of passage. We are not meant to do it alone, even if the act itself is a solitary process. Friends who asked me more than the standard “how are you?” received a more full and true account of my learnings and discoveries.

“Stories can be helpful tools for surviving hardship and navigating complexity. That is, when we craft them as sturdy boats, built to our dimensions and desires. But many stories are bigger than our single lives and desires. Many stories are invisible: so big, so culturally ingrained, that we are blind to the ways in which they drive and constrain our lives.” The Body is a Doorway, Sophie Strand

Not only was my grief more held, it was in the telling of the stories that i was able to come alive amidst my mourning. I was also able to truly express what i was going through, in detail. This invitation offered depth and spaciousness for me to debrief, unpack, and process what i was encountering in my grief.

No one is fully prepared for the time that their mother dies, no matter how expected it is, nor if the griever is a therapist herself, well-versed in holding space in grief counselling. I had to find the right balance between my personal grief process and my role as a psychotherapist who is well-versed in the healing balm of storytelling.

Where does the listener turn when she needs to be held and companioned through her own loss?

As we see in Rites of Passage theory, it is necessary to be witnessed in the transition from one version of us to a new sense of self. This is in fact, a way that we can move through the process of a rite of passage such as mother loss. Being witnessed in this transition is what can deepen the healing process, and in fact get to a more transformed and integrated sense of self.

In these dark and painful times, i’m turning to fantasy novels as support, solace, and sisterhood. For instance, in Starhawk’s novel Walking to Mercury, she shares that the healing that happens from ritual isn’t necessarily the trance work, drumming, dancing or singing that helps. “What healed was simply the opening to speak their pain and have it heard.”

I am working on ways to decolonize my therapy practice and life in general. In Dr. Jen Mullan’s book, Decolonizing Therapy, she shares powerful insights and guidance on how to shift from a western capitalist model to one that is more holistic and person-centred. As i deepen into my own process, i am reclaiming trust in my ability to bring in more a psychospiritual lens. While therapy is not inherently a ritual, we can infuse ritual into our work together. ((Stay tuned to my next journal article where i share some of the ways i do just that.)) ETA: Immediately after i posted this, i saw someone i deeply admire also share that “ritual is the original therapy.” One of the most beautiful experiences to witness is the shift folks experience when they sit in session and have someone who holds unconditional regard, a compassionate and non-judgemental stance, and also undivided attention for their story. This is what we call relational alchemy. The ultimate gift is witnessing someone transform and i am given the opportunity to experience vicarious resilience.

I see my therapy practice more and more like a ceremony. It is not mere work, transactional at best or hurtful at worst. Having a “career” is capitalist after all (thank-you Dra. Rocio for this reframe). Sitting together and sharing breath in the same room is a ceremony webbing the invisible golden thread of co-regulation, attunement and medicine between us, through us, and around us. Therapy is a prayer. It doesn’t have to be with another person; it is a catalysing moment that deepens our healing and transforms it. It just needs words spoken in some way to create that shift.

“The truth is, in order to heal we need to tell our stories and have them witnessed…the story itself becomes a vessel that holds us up, that sustains, that allows us to order our jumbled experiences into meaning. As i told my stories of fear, awakening, struggle, and transformation and had them received, heard, and validated by other women, I found healing. I also needed to hear other women’s stories in order to see and embrace my own. Sometimes another woman’s story becomes a mirror that shows me a self that i haven’t seen before. When I listen to her tell it, her experience quickens and clarifies my own. Her questions rouse mine. Her conflicts illuminate my conflicts. Her resolutions call forth my hope. Her strengths summon my strengths. All of this can happen even when our stories and our lives are very different.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter

Healing requires recovery, and it is a life-long journey to heal. Not because we are incapable of doing it better. Rather, new experiences can activate what felt healed in the past and is now being brought back up to the surface, but in a new way. For instance, maybe as a child you were not listened to. Maybe you were never asked to share your dreams or hopes, or what imaginative stories were. Growing up, we then internalise the story literally – that what we have to share is not worthy to be heard by others. The story isn’t the only thing that can be silenced – our dreams and self-worth also are threatened to die inside us.

Therapy can be an alchemizing experience where clients are reborn, birthing their healed self from the embers of a former life. Therapists are the doulas who support their clients in this transition of becoming. When we share how we are feeling or what we need, we are being authentic to ourselves. This level of witnessing or experience and listening with attention also lets us know that we exist and we matter. When we stop speaking up for our feelings and needs, we suffer a level of self-abandonment, and also possibly a true death.

I know this might seem dramatic. And yet I sit with this truth that my mom died because of complications of undiagnosed ovarian cancer. The story she was sharing for so long was that her stomach hurt. I know that this was a complaint, and I also know that no one really took it seriously, including myself. If only someone had listened sooner, I know things would’ve been different.

“During both painful and joyful moments, we can often recall the things that kept us going — the people who mirrored our own goodness to us — the words shared that reminded us of what could be, what could become, what was possible.” Lisa Olivera, in a newsletter

As a feminist therapist, one of our principles is to self-disclose from our lived experience. We don’t share where the wounds are still raw, but where the scars have healed over. Sharing stories can also be so affirming, empowering and inspiring for the folks that I give this medicine to. This shared humanity experience can further fuel their own motivation. Knowledge is Power and sharing resources is also a Feminist principle.

Another aspect of the therapeutic container is that the therapist becomes an active listener to someone’s story, with undivided attention and a very present attention. This then becomes a Reparative Experience – we are given the healing balm of being heard and listened to, and not carrying the fear of being too much, as we possibly once believed. So many of us, especially women, mothers, and life-long care providers are starving for the attention to be seen and heard as well. This may be a band-aid to a larger problem, the mental health and therapy industrial complex exists as an imperfect solution to a lack of strong community and connection. And yet, as we can practice repair work, earning secure attachment, and healing relational wounds in the therapy space, for now this is a solution that works.

The therapeutic relationship offers more than psychoeducation and passive listening. It also is a space for tender acts of affection, and vulnerability by wearing our hearts on our lab coat sleeves now and then. A compassionate witness and true space holder listens with reverence. Having a place to reflect and unpack can be alchemical.

At least for me, it is more than just a couch and a quiet nod. I get right into your story, and get comfy in my chair or on the floor right beside you.

Tips to a Find a Good Trauma Therapist

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you are already whole just like the moon, who is only going through stages

I’ve been going through a bit of a metamorphosis in my own life, as i have grappled with a decision to do what is best for me, versus something that may have been more aligned with an earlier version of me. I think my wings of transformation have been able to be fully opened now.

I recently made a big decision in my life, which is to fully embrace my private practice full-time. While it was something that i have been deliberating about for some time, i have been in the VAW (violence against women) field so long that it has shaped my identity as a therapist and human. After over 22 years, it is now time to accept this transition. It was hard to let go of this identity, as i jumped into it with all my being. It is also what has made me be the therapist i am today.

When i started my private practice in 2015, it was to complement my work as a gender-based violence counsellor. The work i did initially in my practice was supporting new parents, especially those that experienced a traumatic birth or were having a hard time integrating this new role of parent in their life. It was also a way to balance the hard, necessary and all-encompassing work as a VAW/gender-based violence counsellor.

As my two work hats started to blend over the years (because we cannot separate the intersections of parenthood, trauma, and past abuse), it gave me pause with where i wanted to go moving forward.

Covid and the pandemic has played a role in my decision. As a working mother, it is important for me to balance and have a rhythm that works for me. When schools, extra-curriculars and summer camps all shut down, i noticed the toll of working from home with my children home as well. I also noticed that i need more clear boundaries and self-care practices in order to be the mom and therapist (and friend and partner and daughter) i want to be. Let alone the woman for my own Self. Yes i was burning out, and yes i was not alone with this. And yes we deserve better. (In another post, i will speak to my anger with how this year has gone for us as working moms). I may be a therapist who knows about vicarious trauma, burn-out and self-care, and i am also a human experiencing a collective trauma with everyone else.

Welcome to the new me here: The trauma therapist

While working my decision to make this change, i sat with what kind of therapist i am, what kind of therapist i strive to be, and what makes a ‘good therapist.’ Last year, i shared my thoughts on what is important for therapy to work. You can read it here. Of course, as anything, what makes something good for one person is not necessarily true for others. And yet, there are some important factors to think about when you are looking at starting your path with a therapist.

You have the right to shop around to find the fit that feels right. Book calls with a few therapists – if they don’t offer this free consult, that itself is a sign. Read about what you need in therapy, like Annie Wright’s article. What feels right may be different for each of us, but some things to consider are:

1) Relational
As a general rule, we need to have RAPPORT so that you feel safe enough to want to come back and share intimate things. Rapport is a bit of a vague term, so some things i look for are: using humor, a warm smile and nod, holding space and making room for all emotions and choices, being a compassionate witness to your pain – i really do care about you and have hope for your healing journey. I want you to live the life you love.

Building trust, respect, rapport and a safe container are probably the most important key ingredients for therapy to work. If we don’t have trust, it is hard to go deeper. I can’t promise to fix you or even have a fully safe space, but i do work from a relational place and am honoured when you choose to get support from me. Trust is earned and respect is something we all deserve all the time (and i know that we don’t always get). For instance, when I make a mistake, can you call me in and do i make the changes you ask of me? Do you look forward to therapy, even if that means you may cry or bring up stuff? Do you feel lighter when we are done, even if you feel raw?

Some other ways to show respect are how i treat my space, your boundaries and information. For instance, i strive to provide a safe(r) space and container, which includes privacy. I am committed to write you back quickly, write client-centred notes that i share with you. It is also important to me that you know I am listening fully. My room (even virtually now!) is inviting and i remember details of your life, like the name of your dog or a favourite vacation.

Working from a relational place in therapy means i have a unique, good and special relationship together with you, and what comes up in session is organic and active. I share my delight in seeing you, i see the best in you no matter what, and am grateful and honoured that you come and share vulnerability with me. Our relationship does not exist in a bubble, even though it is a unique one, that usually does live in some secrecy from the outside world. Is the foundation of the relationship solid, and do you get a sense of my authenticity, empathy and compassion for you?

My work is rooted in attachment theory so it shows up in sessions in an overt way. I don’t just mean i ask you about your childhood (full disclosure, i do), but we also work on healing old attachment wounds by repairing your unresolved need for attunement. As social creatures, we thrive when in connection with others. Healing this type of rupture with a therapist is instrumental to get to a more secure attachment style in your present life. This itself depends on the relationship between us that we are working on together.

2) Trauma-Informed
Not all therapists work from a trauma-infomred place, even though we all work with trauma as each human has experienced trauma in their life. So, a respectful and more safe way to support people is to have trauma humility. It starts with learning about what is trauma, the systems that perpetuate trauma, and ways to help integrate the traumatized part into the rest of our Self. This means therapists need to support you to have resources before going to trauma resolution work; we need to ensure you feel safe enough and are within a window of tolerance (or capacity might be a better word to describe this. We are not just building tolerance to hard feelings but the ability to handle them). If we open the wounds too fast, the healing takes longer.

If you are human you have experienced trauma

Being trauma-informed also means that i hold hope for you and you can feel it. I believe that you can get better, and have hope for healing with post-traumatic growth. I am just here as an alchemist, adding the right ingredients to help you get there. You are doing the work. I act as an anchor to guides you and gives you the resources you need to take the plunge.

Another part of trauma-informed care and philosophy is the awareness of Intersectionaity for each of us. Living as a cis-gendered white therapist, i have to do my own work to unpack my inherited white privilege. I can do harm if i do not prioritize this work. A layer of this is to to have unconditional positive regard and a non-judgemental stance of you. I am not afraid of you, and all your emotions are valid, though i can be worried FOR you.

Being a trauma-focused therapist takes it a step further. To help you heal the traumatized part means i honour and sit with your pain without trying to change it, but rather help you find resources that are already there within you. I co-regulate from a place of a regulated Nervous System myself; I do this by staying present and regulated even while feeling compassion and moved by your experience. As Resmaa Menakem shares in his book, this is a necessary part of a good therapeutic alliance: I provide a safe container without assuming safety.

A lot of clients earlier in my career believed it was important for their own healing to tell me their trauma story. While i struggled with this as i intuitively knew this was re-traumatizing them, I honoured their need. Now i know better in how to frame this support. Trauma resolution doesn’t mean I need you to share the details of the actual event; In fact, it is not necessary or even helpful to do so. It runs the risk of re-living the abuse.

3) Integrative
Therapy as a practice is not a new concept. People have been talking to others for support, guidance, and a listening ear for millennia. It is actually also an art, with things coming up organically in the space where there is no agenda. It is a very present and attuned practice. When people come to me for therapy, i do not hold an agenda in mind and the hour flows from there.

We need to be client-centred in order for the work to have any effect. And so there are so many different modalities and styles, approaches and specialities. I believe that knowledge about trauma, anti-oppression, body-based therapies, and working from an integrative and holistic place are the ingredients to make therapy impactful. Honouring the mind body spirit is also integral. That also means that therapists need to continue learning, adapting, unlearning and being vulnerable with their peers. Growth happens when we are uncomfortable as that leads to change.

There are so many therapists with all sorts of training. It is a sign of strength and passion when therapists want to keep learning, as it keeps them humble and human – no one knows everything. I may know a lot about trauma and supports that work, but i cannot assume any expertise in what you need – that is up to you.

Good therapists also seek their own supervision, whether with another colleague, in a peer group or more informally. I do all of these, and i also see my own therapist. This helps me stay grounded, accountable, and present at all times. It also helps me take notice of transference or counter-transference experiences.

I also think it’s important for the people i support to know that i am passionate and committed to this work. I may make people cry for a living, and my compassion for you helps me hold space for you when those tears come up. Do you get a sense that i am skilled and confident in my abilities as a therapist? Do i show that i want to do the best for you?

I wholeheartedly believe that good therapists have learned various modalities. Even if they have a couple of preferences (mine are Feminist Narrative Therapy and somatic therapies), no two people are the same. Part of the art of therapy is that we follow the flow of what comes up organically in a session. So, we need to be integrative because the client is their own expert and the approach on a given day also depends on what is present in the room at the time. We may pull from several modalities in one session, or for one situation are you struggling with. If you are new to therapy, read about the therapists’ bios and see if it feels like a right fit – does the idea of somatic or body-based attunement speak to you, are you more into staying cerebral, for instance?

Further, therapy should not just be talk or cognitive-based – it is imperative to also include emotion-focused resources, as well as somatic/body tools and other ways to learn like expressive arts mediums. There is a time for talk and there also needs space for pause, quiet, and using our pre-verbal, creative part. This is also where our Ventral Vagus Nerves lives, so it makes sense that it needs to be activated in therapy sessions.

This year specifically, i have made a commitment to learn more about how to be a better Anti-racism co-conspirator. I have read books, taken courses, had discussions, and made changes to my business to honour this work. The learning is not a one-time act, nor should it be performative.

4) Own Expert
You are on your Own journey. While i have the honour to support you for a time, i only see you for an hour each week. In between sessions, or when you move on after therapy, you have your Self to get you through. I am happy to meet you where you are willing to go, and to model self-regulation as a mirror. What you do with it is up to you.

I meet you where you’re at and i am next to you on this journey. I may make suggestions – and not the dreaded ‘should’ statements. Sometimes, people i support ask for me what i would do, or to give them advice, and i need to remind that i cannot answer this. I am not in their shoes and empowerment to feel good after a decision only comes from within.This is where change lives too. I do not want to set up for failure either. At times, i may share my own experience. I do this not for you to copy my choices, but rather as a way to honour the attunement and self-compassionat practice of shared humanity.

I also believe that therapy must include advocacy for you and larger systems at play. I am hear (spelling intentional) to help you heal as well as challenge the systemic issues that are impacting our collective healing. We heal in community as we are social creatures, not unlike jaguars, wolves and elephants.

You are in charge of the session. My service to you is professional and catered to what you need. That means you navigate the session and i do not act on my own agenda. If i every steer you away from something you want to focus on, it is your right to get back to the work you want to do. This is Agency. I don’t take this personally. I also ask explicitly (called a frame) what direction you want to go to when we are faced with two paths. This is an example of consent being sought intentionally.

I am a trauma survivor and have done my work to resolve it. This knowledge informs my work, as well as gives me access to lived experience and a shared humanity that healing is possible. I am at a very good place in my own life, as i have done my work, and my nervous system is regulated: You do not need to take care of me when feelings show up in the room together.

Sometimes, we need to normalize the experience of your reaction, by also honouring your unique story. I offer psychoeducation about your reaction as a way of providing safety when a part of you starts to feel shame, guilt, or even anxiety about choices you made when you were scared or hurt. When we know others have felt and responded in similar ways, it resets our nervous system and negative self-talk that we are a worse version of ourselves.

5) Exquisite Risk-Taker
It takes courage to seek out therapy. I push you to take exquisite risks that are NOT beyond your limits. Therapy does not exist in isolation. The hope is that you start to see increments of change, even after a few sessions. Therapists cannot guarantee to ‘fix you.’ Therapy is also NOT a cyclical or linear process, as each session is unique and alive in the here-and-not moment. But it is a moving forward process. It is also not a place to purge your thoughts without also being a space for reflection and support. It helps to think about what is said in a session during the week, and see if you want to work on the resources that are offered. It is not ‘homework’ that gets marked or judged, but rather an opportunity to practice a new language of self-healing.

One of my favourite compliments is when i hear “What would vania tell me.”

I am hear to offer you choice and options, whether it is for resources, or things i hold in my grounding basket. I may make suggestions when i contact (notice) a body or emotion-based response during a session, but i don’t want you to feel that i cannot handle your emotions. I will not pass you a tissue to suggest you need to stop crying. I am here to welcome and honour all the feelings, and to slow them down in order for you to build your capacity to sit with them. Our society is not good with the hard feelings – we typically only welcome joy, surprise, and sometimes fear. Otherwise, we feel like we have to hide the other ones as the person who is with us cannot handle them – which turns into an internalized translation to them not being able to handle us.

I love the word “Organicity.” Pat Ogden’s body of work Sensorimortor Psychotherapy speaks about this concept. It means what happens in the room during a session is what to work on, or what happens together is the work. Sometimes there is some risk to stay with something that is only poked at typically, or passed over quickly. Narrative Therapy and somatic therapies both intentionally dive deeper into the implicit. Kind of like Russian Nesting Dolls where we open up to a new story or opportunity, or version of our Self. We do experiments together, with curiousity. Taking risks can get to a more whole and new stage in your healing. We need this courage to get to a new place, otherwise our cycle remains active.

One way to start to notice if the therapist you are working with is a good fit is to take stock and see if you can sense the change in you and see new positive opportunities. Do you laugh together and have a sense of play together? Does your therapist delight in your progress and process without claiming responsibility or saviourism? This is the balance of taking risks and being held.

I will meet you there.

I am still transitioning into this new role, and version of myself. As a white, cis-gendered and able-bodies female therapist, I know i carry and hold a lot of power and privilege. The world of private practice therapy already feels so reflective of the two-tiered approach that I usually cringe over. This is part of my work – continuously reflecting, checking, and sitting with my discomfort and working towards a new feminist model of private practice therapy that is more inclusive and accessible.

Did you notice how I tilted this ‘good therapist’ and not great or perfect? For one, i don’t believe in perfect anything but i do trust that there are better fits just like there is a perfect hair stylist for each of us. I also think you are the one doing the work, and i am beside you, so the emphasis of the work being done is for you, not for me to take the credit.

The Makings of a Good Therapist

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I love what I do. It may sound strange to think that I enjoy listening to people share their hard feelings, but what I also see is their healing process and transformation. I’m not so vain to think i made a difference, but rather I was there to bear witness to their own change. Going to therapy is still a taboo topic, as we have not accepted mental health needs support like any other forms of health does.There has been a lot of movement towards accepting therapy, both for people to go to someone for help, as well as a bigger societal shift in accepting that a therapist can help someone feel better, just like a dentist, doctor, or nutritionist can. Instagram has an amazing selection of therapists who use that tool as a way of sharing resources for free. While it’s not therapy persay, it is a great starting point for me. It’s a bit like feelings porn for me too. Have you seen this fabulous account, for instance?

I have a love-hate relationship with how therapists are depicted in pop culture. It’s no wonder people have misgivings about coming to see a stranger and unload secret feelings. Naomi Watts’ character on her show Gypsy (the name itself is problematic) really made me cringe. Anne in Working Moms is another example (though I love her new office). Gabriel Byrne’s character on In Treatment, or Toni Collette in Wanderlust, and more recently the therapist in Big Little Lies gives me hope that we are moving towards more positive portrayals. It helps to lessen the stigma – therapy is not just for extreme mental health needs after all.

While watching the second season of Big Little Lies recently (and no, that therapist is not perfect either), i brought me pause to think about what i think makes for a good therapist. Here’s my short working list.

I will bear witness to your process. I have had clients come to me and say point blank that they want me to ‘fix them.’ I so wish that was possible, but it truly doesn’t work that way. I don’t have a magic wand to do that sort of trick, and more importantly, therapy is not for someone else to fix you but rather you must do this work yourself. It is truly our own work that helps us heal.

I know that I hold a lot of power in my role as a therapist. As a feminist therapist, i make that awareness explicit in our work together. I also play a role in displaying a healthy relationship with the people I support. As an attachment-based therapist, I see how unhealthy relationships have been a great cause of suffering. While it’s important to me to build a trusting and respectful relationship with the people I support, I am not their friend. I do think that therapy works best when there is a reciprocal relationship (relational). One big difference between talking to your best friend about a problem and coming to me is that I am not just a positive cheerleader, but someone who will challenge you if you are wrong and also provide you options, not just agree with you. I am like an accountability partner to help you stay on your task and commitment to yourself.

Some of my favourite words as a therapist are vulnerability, feelingful, courage, curious, compassion, resilience, and reflection. I have a toolkit of resources, tools, worksheets, and exercises to guide you in this process. Therapy is goal-based and an opportunity to establish tools and resources, work on the painful memories, and integrating them into your everyday life now. The ultimate goal for therapy is that it helps you live the life you love so that you no longer need to come to therapy.

As a therapist I am a vault that holds your secrets. Therapy won’t work if you can’t trust that person with your deepest feelings, so much so that you don’t feel safe in sharing them. Building this relationship plays a key role in how therapy works best. It’s also hard for me to say goodbye when therapy is ending, and yet I know that the goal of therapy is to have it be short-term with a clearly structured beginning, middle and end. I get ghosted as a therapist and while I know that the relationship is not about me (and I yield a lot of power), it is still a feeling-based relationship that is built on compassion.

With the new Controlled Act of Psychotherapy in Ontario, changes are being made to what therapy looks like. For instance, some people seek counselling as a way to help them with some life goals on wellness, having a better life and get back on track. A life coach also does similar work on wellness work but their focus is more on helping you live your optimum self. Psychotherapy is a deeper dive to help someone who is struggling with something that leads to feeling stuck, and is based on a diagnosable mental health issue (like postpartum depression or post-traumatic stress from the impact of childhood abuse). I am not a life coach, but my work can straddle any of these three areas.

A good therapist, like anyone, sees the value of continuous professional development. I am always learning and am a better therapist because of this. Even seasoned therapists of over 30 years need to keep learning about modalities that are evidence-based and validly researched. I also believe that a good therapist does not only use one modality as each person is their own expert and one size does NOT fit all.

I make people cry for a living. That means, while I follow your lead and have no agenda for my own, sometimes there is no emotional by-passing in therapy like there may be in everyday life. I will validate your experience and feelings, and hold space for you in a less biased way. My whole body is my instrument, especially as I use somatic-based therapies and mindfulness in my work. Going to supervision, therapy and peer consultation is a necessity, if not a requirement. I also practice what I preach as self-care is imperative so that I don’t burn-out or feel compassion fatigue. So don’t worry about me – I am a container that regularly gets my tune-up.

If you’d like to work with me, to live the life you love, contact me here. I’d be honoured to be that vault for you.

Perfectly Imperfect in Every Way

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This week, my son went skiing for the first time. He went twice this week alone. The first time was cross-country skiing with our family, and the second was downhill with a school trip. I went with him both times, upon his request (and secretly i would have gone anyway). Full disclosure, we are not a skiing family or even sporty. But i grew up cross-country skiing and loved it. Mainly because it was a way to embrace the outdoors during the cold, long winter months. And it is so beautifully peaceful in a forest in the wintertime.

The first ski adventure, we didn’t get lessons because we didn’t think we needed them. His first frustration was putting on the skis. His second was falling and not being able to get up. His third was the first slight hill. So within 10 minutes, he was full of frustration and internalized shame about not being able to do something his sister and cousins were doing. And more so, he was angry at his body for not holding him up. Once this side of him comes out, he can be hard to get him back on track – no pun intended.

Between my partner and i, we took turns and deep breaths to help him. By the end of the day, he was skiing better, and made the right decision to walk down the last hill. Side note: i went down that hill and had the best epic Funniest Home Videos fall. I went right over my face into the snow and came up laughing. And not hurt. Luckily, my kids saw my fall and my reaction and i think it helped them see that it’s okay to fall.

When we went with his school this week, my son embraced the challenge. Maybe it was partly due to being with his peers and the lovely support and connection his has with his classmates. Maybe it was because he’s been skiing once before and remembers what his body can do. Maybe because downhill is easier (that’s what he said). I don’t know. But he did amazing – he loved the hills and he only fell once. At the beginning, when he was going down the very first hill for the first time to learn how to do the ‘pizza’ move to slow down. After that, he was hooked and now wants to ski on the regular. I’d like to take some credit, but i know it’s about his more positive sense of self that day.

Go figure.


Let me backup and bit and give you some context: My son has had 4 broken bones and stitches twice, all from living life in distraction. Besides the healing process and permanent scars (both visible and emotional), my son has carried with him trauma from the various injuries. He goes quickly into freeze mode when he gets hurt, be it a small bump or a bigger fall. As a trauma therapist, i would hope my work and years of training would be able to help him when he is in distress or needing support to self-regulate the hard feelings.

I was pretty wrong about this.

He comes to me for cuddles and connection when he is sad, or lonely. But the anger and frustration feelings are harder for me to support and him to manage. That’s why they are called hard feelings after all. After his initial fear has subsided, and he sees that he’s okay, he goes into fight mode when he’s frustrated. That is his trigger response, whereas I’m a freezer – so an interesting combo to say the least. I also get triggered by his anger as it’s can get quite feral and aggressive. That’s from my own history trauma and fear of intense conflict with others.

My children both know the work i do, relatively speaking. They know i work with women who have been hurt by someone in their lives as well as the parents i support who have just had babies. My son has been learning more about self-regulation, mindfulness, the downstairs/upstairs brain (thanks Dan Siegal), and we both know it’s a work in progress still. So when he recently confronted my attempts to help him he blasted at me this poignant line: “Mom, what works on your clients won’t work on me, I’m your kid”

Mic drop.

So, after a bit of an initial reaction, i processed this and realized maybe a bit too late that i need to be his mom first, and therapist second. And i need to be my partner’s friend first and therapist second. And i am human first. Therapist second even for me. We are all works in progress, learning as we go after all. When i am in therapist mode, i am a bit removed and put up the necessary boundaries i need, and yet it may not be what my injured child needs at the time. I am also still learning how to manage my reactions to his injuries, my daughter’s stubbornness, and my own need for quiet. As all therapists, i’m perfectly imperfect with this work too. I know my friends look to me for advice and assume i know what i’m doing. Let me tell you now, i don’t always know. I’m just my best at the time like all of us. One thing i know is to give myself self-compassion and self-care treats on the regular. I have also learned how to sit with the pain of others because i too am a work in progress, who recognizes my own inner work: I can sit more comfortably with other’s pain as i can see the other side of pain. This is a big part of being able to be a container for others. I know healing can happen.

Last night, my kids were excited to tell me about their day. I had a long day of listening to people’s stories and sadness all day. Like most days, i love my work, and i maybe shouldn’t have listened to a powerful podcast about stillborn loss on my walk home. I probably should have listened to my fun music therapy playlist instead. When i got home, i didn’t know i was done listening, until my son was talking AT me for 20 minutes through dinner. We had a good chat about asking first to chat, and also my need to make sure that i was present for my family when i cross the threshold of my door. Back to mom, wife, woman mode. My work day is done.

And yet it never is.

The Resilient Butterfly

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“Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness and still become something beautiful”

I’m not sure who the source to that quote is but i love it. And, i love butterflies. Not just because part of my name stems from the word butterfly, nor because they are pretty and whimsical – though both are true. But, rather, they are a perfect symbol of resiliency, vulnerability and exquisite risk.

I recently updated my logo to connect to this path that women take when finding themselves, re-finding themselves, and taking time to take care of themselves. The butterfly is you, and it’s perched on my name, as i feel like i am here to hold space for you while you are on this journey to heal. I act as a tool to help ground you, but really believe that you are doing the work yourself to heal, connect, move forward, and take risks. I am so honoured to be a part of this journey with you.

I like that the butterfly is perched and yet still in flight. Like she is ready to take off when needed, and to hold the power of her own safety and path. Very symbolic as it connects to our journeys in healing and being in therapy. It’s not by chance that i landed on this butterfly image. I had lovely and long chats with my pal who is a creative designer to get to this place that feels like it speaks to the work i do.

A few years ago, i attended a training on post-traumatic growth and resiliency. The presenter is a social worker from the States who shared more about the steps we take in order to heal and hopefully reach resiliency. She spoke of the butterfly’s journey from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. To think of how such a fragile and yet strong creature can show such strength and resiliency!

Recently, Tara Brach posted a great podcast where she spoke about the exquisite risk people take when actively engaging in their vulnerability. I loved how she too connected the narrative of a butterfly and the path they take. She goes further to say it’s actually arrested development when we don’t take these risks in being vulnerable. Take a listen when you have a moment.

I’m starting to see the Spring moths and butterflies dance by me as i’m outdoors. I love to take a pause in what i’m doing to say hello and thank them for their trust in the world. I know that may sound cheesy, but their greeting is also a chance for me to slow down, take stock in my day, and to honour my own journey too.

Next time you see a butterfly, say hello!

(image above by From a drawing by W. I. Beecroft: THE SILVER-SPOTTED SKIPPER)