Tiredness lifts when you rest. Burnout lingers because it lives in the body, in patterns of tension, vigilance, and emotional fatigue that sleep can’t touch. For many in D.C., it’s compounded by the collective stress of injustice and constant urgency. Repairing burnout isn’t about stepping away from what matters—it’s about restoring the nervous system so you can stay engaged without losing yourself.

Always being the strong one can look like resilience, but it often hides a quiet loneliness. When you’ve spent years holding it all together, asking for help can feel foreign—even unsafe. Over time, that constant self-reliance can leave you disconnected from your own needs and unsure how to rest. Therapy offers space to slow down, soften old instincts, and relearn what it means to feel supported.

Fall offers the perfect mix of structure, calm, and daylight to support meaningful therapy work. In this season, your nervous system naturally becomes more receptive to change—making it easier to build consistency, regulate, and reset before winter stress hits. Using EMDR, IFS, and Sensorimotor therapy, we can map your patterns, stabilize your body, and reprocess old pain so you feel lighter and more grounded. Whether through weekly sessions or focused Intensives, starting now helps real progress take root.

When you can’t relax no matter how much you try, it’s not a personal failure—it’s a sign your nervous system has been carrying too much for too long. Through trauma-informed approaches like EMDR, IFS, and Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, therapy helps your body learn that it no longer needs to stay on guard. You begin to feel the difference between “numb” and “calm,” between “on edge” and “at ease.” Healing starts when your body finally believes it’s safe to rest.

You can be surrounded by friends and still feel lonely. Often, what we crave isn’t more social events, but deeper emotional connection — the kind that feels safe, reciprocal, and nourishing. Old protective patterns, trauma, anxiety, or ADHD can make intimacy feel risky, leaving you stuck in surface-level connection. With approaches like EMDR, IFS, Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, and therapy intensives, it’s possible to soften those barriers and experience closeness that feels authentic and sustaining.

Trauma doesn’t always look like flashbacks or panic attacks. For many high-functioning adults, it hides behind productivity, perfectionism, and people-pleasing—while inside there’s exhaustion, emptiness, or anxiety that won’t turn off. These quieter signs are easy to miss, but they’re still evidence of unresolved pain that lives in both the body and mind. With trauma-focused therapy—like EMDR, IFS, Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, and intensives—you can finally move beyond survival mode and toward real freedom.

Living with ADHD often means navigating a world that wasn’t designed with your brain in mind. Therapy can be transformative, but the traditional one-hour-a-week format doesn’t always match the way ADHD brains process, focus, and integrate information. If you’ve ever left a therapy session feeling like you were just starting to get somewhere—only to have to shut it down until next week—you’re not alone.

If you’ve ever been told you’re “too sensitive,” you know how painful those words can feel. They carry an edge of judgment — as if your emotions are somehow excessive, wrong, or a flaw that needs to be fixed. For many of my clients, especially those navigating ADHD, anxiety, or relational trauma, this label has been following them since childhood.

If you’ve spent any time on therapy websites or mental health social media, you’ve probably seen ads for therapy intensives – half‑day or multi‑day deep‑dive sessions that promise big shifts in a short amount of time. People sometimes ask me, “Can I keep seeing my regular therapist and still do an intensive?” The short answer is yes. Intensives can be a powerful complement to your ongoing therapy, but there are some important things to consider. In this post I’ll explain how intensives fit into your healing journey, how to collaborate with your current therapist, and how to navigate dual support ethically and effectively.

Trauma leaves its mark in different ways. Some people feel numb and disconnected; others have nightmares, intrusive memories or panic attacks; still others develop chronic pain, digestive issues or a persistent sense of shame. If you’ve been searching for relief, you’ve likely encountered a menu of therapeutic acronyms—EMDR, IFS, SP—and wondered what they really mean and whether one of them might help you. In this blog, we’ll explore how each modality works, who might benefit most, and why integrating them can be so powerful.

If you’ve been exploring options for trauma healing or nervous system regulation, you may have come across two popular modalities: EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and hypnotherapy. Both are often seen as alternatives to traditional talk therapy—and both can bring relief where “just talking about it” hasn’t worked. But while they can look similar on the surface (they both involve nontraditional techniques and can feel a little mysterious at first), they’re actually quite different in how they work and what you can expect.

If you live with ADHD and find yourself constantly anxious, you’re not imagining the connection. The overlap between anxiety and ADHD is more than just common—it’s baked into the way ADHD brains function. And yet, many people are left feeling confused, overwhelmed, or misdiagnosed, wondering: Why can’t I relax, even when nothing is technically wrong? Why does everything feel so urgent all the time?

Let’s explore how ADHD and anxiety interact—and how trauma-informed therapy (including EMDR, IFS, and therapy intensives) can help you find clarity, calm, and lasting relief.

When most people hear “EMDR,” they think of trauma therapy—and they’re not wrong. EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) was originally developed to help people heal from painful or overwhelming life events. But what many don’t realize is that EMDR can also be a deeply powerful tool for people living with ADHD—especially when it’s tangled with shame, perfectionism, and emotional intensity.

ADHD isn’t just about distraction or forgetting your keys. For many adults, especially those who weren’t diagnosed until later in life, ADHD can quietly chip away at your time, your money, your self-esteem, and your sense of peace.

It’s not just the missed appointments or the half-finished projects—it’s the emotional toll of constantly wondering if you’re falling behind, disappointing others, or “just not getting it together.”

And here’s the hard part: sometimes, traditional therapy doesn’t move quickly enough to catch up to the urgency you feel inside.

That’s why therapy intensives can be such a powerful option for people with ADHD. They allow you to dive in, create momentum, and actually feel a shift—in a fraction of the time.

Mental health days have become a popular idea—and for good reason. We all need time to pause, recharge, and step away from the demands of work, family, and daily stress. But somewhere along the way, the idea of a mental health day got tangled up with a simple notion: rest means doing nothing. Sleep in. Watch TV. Scroll on your phone. Cancel all plans.

Sometimes, that’s exactly what we need. But here’s the thing: rest doesn’t always restore you. And restoration doesn’t always mean rest.

Let’s unpack that, because it’s a distinction that can transform how you approach your mental health days—and your relationship to self-care in general.

When you’re living with ADHD, you’re often moving through life with a complicated relationship to time, focus, and follow-through. You might feel like you’re constantly catching up, starting over, or spinning your wheels on things that should feel manageable.

And while therapy can be life-changing, traditional weekly sessions don’t always feel like the best fit—especially for ADHD brains that crave momentum, depth, and flexibility.

This is where therapy intensives can be a powerful, neurodivergent-friendly option. Let’s talk about why.

For many of my clients, self-doubt doesn’t always come through dramatic breakdowns or obvious anxiety. It shows up more quietly—in the form of constant reassurance-seeking, mental spiraling after conversations, or needing someone else to validate every decision before it feels real.

They don’t say “I don’t trust myself” in so many words.
But their nervous systems are carrying that message loud and clear.

And here’s what I want you to know: this kind of self-questioning isn’t a personal failure. It’s often a natural, protective adaptation to earlier environments where your inner signals were ignored, minimized, or punished.

Do you ever feel like you’re too sensitive, too intense, too emotional—like your presence somehow takes up more space than it should? Or maybe, on the flip side, you constantly feel not enough—not accomplished enough, not confident enough, not lovable enough.

If you find yourself bouncing between these two extremes, you're not alone. Many of my therapy clients—especially those with a history of relational trauma, perfectionism, or feeling misunderstood in childhood—describe living in this painful tug-of-war.

There’s a common myth that therapy is only for people in deep crisis. That you have to be actively unraveling, unable to cope, or recovering from an acute event before seeking help.

But therapy isn’t just about surviving—it’s about expanding what’s possible for your life and your relationships.

In the same way you don’t wait until your teeth are falling out to visit a dentist, you don’t have to wait for total burnout or breakdown to begin caring for your emotional well-being.

Many of my clients come to trauma therapy wondering if something is "wrong" with them because they struggle to stay emotionally present—especially in close relationships. But emotional withdrawal isn't a flaw. It’s a learned survival response, often shaped by early relationships and nervous system adaptations that made emotional distance feel safer than vulnerability.

If you’re wondering whether you’re emotionally avoidant—or simply carrying old protective strategies that no longer serve you—this post is for you.