The culture of high-stakes professions?
Let’s call it what it is.
It can feel like a blazing dumpster fire.
If you’re struggling, welcome to a pretty packed club.
Around here, cynicism can feel like a badge of honor.
We find what humor we can and brace for the next “wellness initiative” handed down from a high-rise office with no idea of our reality.
I’ve seen what happens when high-achievers reach out for help.
The State Program that promises “confidential support,“ then quietly ushers you toward an exit.
The Administrator’s “no discrimination” assurance (until your need for help becomes a liability).
The one-time anxiety diagnosis that follows you like a shadow, popping up on every licensure or board renewal.
The EHR record that somehow syncs with your employer’s risk management team (where “privacy” is a somewhat loose concept).
Is it any wonder most of us would rather burn out quietly than risk asking for help?
We’re a “resilient”
bunch, right?
Built to endure. Long hours, protein bars masquerading as meals, and a grit that keeps us going long after anyone else would tap out.
Friends and family can’t really get it, but we do—and the weight doesn’t seem to be getting any lighter.
In fact, if you’ve found yourself on this page, it’s probably all been feeling pretty heavy lately.
This work isn’t just my profession. It’s deeply personal.
“The price one pays for pursuing any profession or calling is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side.”
– James Baldwin
I’ve stood in the same trenches. Felt the weight of a system beyond my ability to fix. Found myself wondering where to turn when I realized the immense cost of choosing integrity over silence.
And I’ve spent years listening to, studying, and grappling with the hidden barriers that keep driven professionals from seeking help.
What I’ve learned is that most of what you’re experiencing isn’t individual failure.
It’s a rational response to systems that take everything and give back almost nothing.
So I created this space.
This practice was built from the ground up to offer the one thing these systems often overlook: truly protected, stigma-free, confidential care that puts you first.
How I Approach Therapy
1. Earned Trust Through Real-World Integrity
I don’t just talk about ethics in theory. As a former healthcare ethics director turned accidental whistleblower, I experienced the cost of choosing integrity under pressure.
The experience is the foundation of this practice—a deeply safe space when your role doesn’t allow for candid conversations elsewhere.
2. Radical Confidentiality by Design
My practice was built for leaders, physicians, and executives who cannot afford for their mental health to become a professional liability.
Your privacy is built into every detail, at a level that standard practices can’t match.
No Diagnosis Codes, No Labels
This isn’t about slapping a diagnosis on you that haunts your next licensure renewal. You’re here as a human being, not a billing code.
No Insurance Reporting
We keep insurance out of it, which means no third-party oversight and no justification of care. Your care remains entirely private.
Independent of PHP Oversight
We keep insurance out of it, which means no third-party oversight and no justification of care. Your care remains entirely private.
Minimal Documentation
Our notes are intentionally brief, vague, and never synced with external EMRs. This is off-the-record support.
3. Unmatched Dual Expertise
I’m one of only three credentialed psychologist-bioethicists in the United States.
This isn’t just a rare blend of qualifications. It’s a profound advantage for you.
I understand both the clinical science of the mind and the messy, morally complex decisions that define high-stakes careers. This allows me to walk alongside you in situations where others lack the framework.
Still feeling cautious?
Good. You should be.
In a world of data breaches, insurance risk profiles, and corporate surveillance, your caution is smart.