One of the first memories I have of being a social worker took place next to an old, dilapidated apartment building. I was racing an eight-year-old back and forth across the parking lot while we waited for his mother to arrive. He lived in a foster home, and really looked forward to these visits. Just as she pulled into her usual parking space, he won the race and I slid on some rocks, falling to the ground. She got out of her car laughing at me. He and I were laughing too.

When I think of those first few years working with families, memories like this are the ones I love to return to. Not courtrooms and meetings, but sunny afternoons like that one. They remind me why I went into this field in the first place.

As I transitioned to a therapist role, I was eager to learn everything I could about how people heal. I wanted to move beyond helping people reduce and manage their symptoms-trimming branches that inevitably grew back. I wanted to do root work, helping people face unprocessed pain that fuels harmful patterns and cycles. After many books, podcasts, trainings, and consultation, I began to understand how complex trauma recovery can be.

My love for learning and collaboration has led to some incredible experiences. For almost a decade I worked at an academic medical school providing therapy, writing and carrying out grant programs, providing group therapy for local homeless shelters, and teaching medical and social work students. I’m deeply grateful for all I learned from those years. Through it all, my patients have been my greatest teachers.