10/31/2025
There is something sacred about being invited into someone’s healing. Most people do not think about it that way. They think therapy, hypnosis, mindset work, trauma release, whatever label you want to put on it, is simply a service. A transaction. A tool. And yes, there is technique here. There is neuroscience and subconscious patterning and nervous system work.
But beneath all of that, there is something deeper. There is a moment, somewhere between the first phone call and the first breath in my office, where someone decides to trust. They choose to sit in a room and take a risk on hope again.
And that never stops humbling me.
When I opened my practice almost eleven years ago, and then moved into this office nearly six years ago, I had no idea what it would turn into. I did not know that hundreds of people would walk through the door carrying quiet battles inside their chest. I did not know I would sit with grown men who had not cried in decades until the weight finally cracked open. I did not know I would help teenagers untangle anxiety and fear and anger and step back into their own skin again. I did not know mothers would walk in with shaking hands, hoping their child could find calm again. I did not know couples would sit across from me trying to save more than a marriage. Sometimes trying to save themselves.
I did not know, but I showed up anyway.
This work has never been about magic tricks or control or any of the nonsense people think hypnosis is. My job is not to fix anyone. My job is not to wave a wand and change a life. If anything, my job is to sit quietly in the dark with you until your eyes adjust enough that you realize the door was never locked to begin with.
You just needed someone who would not panic when you felt lost. Someone who would not judge the mess you carried. Someone who believed there was still more to you than the moment you were drowning in.
And every time someone sits in that chair, I remind myself what an honor it is.
People ask me sometimes why I still do this. Why I did not go the route so many hypnotists go, pivot into teaching or selling or branding myself as some guru. Truth is, a lot of people get into this field thinking it will be fast money. They see TikTok confidence and marketing scripts and a few big personalities, and they think, I can do that.
Then reality comes. Clients are not hashtags. They are not quick wins. They are human beings with layers and history and nervous systems shaped by years of survival work. And many who start this path tap out in six months. They never made it through the deeper part. The part that demands patience. The part that requires showing up again and again even when no one claps for you.
Six months. That is the lifespan of most in this profession.
We are stepping into year six in this office. Year eleven in practice.
And we are still here.
Not because it has been easy. Some seasons were rough. Some seasons were spent looking at numbers and breathing deeper than I wanted to. Some years tested faith and grit and that quiet voice that says keep going when logic tells you to stop.
But we are still here because every time someone walks in and says, “I am ready to try again,” I feel something in me come alive. There is purpose in this work. Real purpose. The kind you do not walk away from just because it gets hard.
So let me say this clearly.
Thank you.
Thank you to every single person who left a review when you did not have to. Thank you to those who whispered my name to someone hurting. Thank you to those who trusted me with stories you were afraid to put words to. Thank you to those who let me see behind the armor. Thank you to those who came back even when the work felt uncomfortable. Thank you to those who sat across from me shaking on the first session and left lighter than they walked in.
Thank you to those who reminded their subconscious that healing was allowed.
And if you are reading this and we have not worked together but your life feels heavy, let me say this to you too: you do not have to stay where you are. Hope is not a myth. Change is not reserved for other people. Your nervous system can learn calm. Your mind can learn safety. Your identity can shift. Your patterns can evolve. Your story can change.
And no one heals in a straight line.
Healing is not a clean staircase. It is a forest path. There are clearings and there are thick patches where you cannot see more than a foot ahead. But every step still moves you forward if you stay on the trail.
I will keep showing up here. I will keep writing. I will keep helping wherever and whenever I can. My schedule may be limited at times, life may call me in different directions, but as long as there are people who want to heal, I will keep doing this work.
To those who have trusted me already, thank you for letting me be a witness to your strength. To those who might walk through the door one day, I will be here when you are ready.
Every story has turning points. Sometimes the smallest one changes everything.
And if you are reading this, maybe this is one of yours.
