Most of the women I sit with have spent years being the one who holds it together. The one people come to. The one who remembers the appointments, the birthdays, the details. The one who has always figured it out.
And somewhere along the way, something shifted. Maybe the kids left, and the house got louder in the quiet than you thought a house could be. Maybe the marriage changed, or ended, or has been quietly ending for years. Maybe your body started moving through perimenopause or menopause and no one warned you it would feel like this. Maybe you looked up one Tuesday and realized you don’t know exactly what you want the next chapter of your life to look like, and you aren’t sure when that happened.
This is the work I love most. Sitting with women in the seasons of life nobody really prepares us for.
The women I work with
My practice centers on women in the second half of life. This includes.
Women in midlife. Somewhere in your forties, fifties, or sixties, life stopped being a straight line. The identity that carried you through your thirties doesn’t fit the same way. There are questions about purpose, about what you actually want, about how much life you still have and what you want to do with it. This isn’t a crisis. It’s a real transition, and it deserves real attention.
Mothers in transition. Motherhood doesn’t have a single hard season. It has many. The postpartum year. The middle school years. The college drop-off. The adult child who is struggling and calling you at strange hours. The house that is suddenly quiet. Each of these transitions asks something different from you, and each deserves its own kind of care.
Women moving through empty nest. This one is often quiet and lonely because so many women feel like they aren’t allowed to feel sad about it. Everyone expects you to be proud, or free, or thriving. And you are. And also you’re grieving. The house is different. The rhythm is different. You’re different. Empty nest isn’t just about the kids leaving. It’s about who you get to be next.
Women navigating hormonal change. Perimenopause and menopause are often the missing piece in what is going on for women in their forties and fifties. The mood changes, the sleep changes, the anxiety spikes, the sense of not feeling like yourself. These are real, they are physical, and they are worth taking seriously in therapy alongside whatever else is going on. I don’t treat the hormonal piece as separate from the emotional piece, because in real life they aren’t separate.
Women in transition after divorce, loss, or a major life change. A death. A job change. A move. An illness. A relationship ending. These are the events that reshape the map. The work isn’t just about grieving what changed. It’s about slowly, honestly figuring out who you are on the other side of it, and giving that woman a real chance.
Young adult women. I also work with women in their late teens and twenties who are stepping into first serious relationships, first real jobs, the identity questions of early adulthood. If you’re that woman, or you’re the mother of one who is looking for someone to talk to, we can start there.
What working together looks like
My style is warm, direct, and often lighter than people expect. We’ll laugh in session. Humor is one of the ways my clients know they are safe, and it happens to be one of the ways real insight arrives.
I won’t judge you. I’ll gently push you to get curious about the why underneath what you are feeling and doing. Most of my clients tell me this becomes their favorite hour of the week.
I draw from cognitive behavioral therapy, dialectical behavior therapy, acceptance and commitment therapy, internal family systems and parts work, somatic tools, and mindfulness-based approaches. I don’t stick to one school. I tailor what we use to what you are bringing in. Much of our work involves understanding what your nervous system has been carrying, and what it needs to feel safe.
What changes over time
Women come in tired. They leave sessions clearer. They come back the next week having noticed something they wouldn’t have noticed before. Over time, the noticing turns into choosing, and the choosing turns into a life that fits them more honestly than it did before.
My clients often describe the change like this. They stop apologizing for things they never needed to apologize for. They stop shrinking to make rooms comfortable. They stop pushing past the parts of themselves that need attention. They start being able to name what they want and, slowly, ask for it. They start liking the woman they are becoming.
This is real work. It isn’t fast. But it is the kind of work that changes the second half of a life, and there is a lot of life left.