What’s in My Therapy Office (and Why It’s Not Just a Couch and Clipboard)
If you’re picturing a therapy office with a stiff couch, fluorescent lights, and a therapist scribbling silently on a clipboard while you talk… that’s not the vibe here.
Yes, there is a clipboard (I like my worksheets).
But also?
There are sensory fidgets, soft lighting, cozy chairs, and space to color, write, tap, cry, or sit in silence.
This space is designed to help you feel safe enough to be real—because therapy doesn’t work if you feel like you have to perform.
🎨 Talking Isn’t the Only Way to Process
Sometimes words flow easily. Other times, they don’t.
So I keep things on hand to support you when talking feels hard:
Fidget tools to keep your hands busy while your heart opens up
Worksheets and visual aids to organize the chaos in your brain
Art supplies if drawing it out feels safer than saying it
Journaling prompts, card decks, and interactive tools to spark connection
Grounding objects and sensory tools to keep you here, when your mind wants to go there
You don’t have to sit still and spill your guts.
You get to process in a way that works for you.
🛋️ Comfort and Clarity
The room is soft and lived-in.
You’ll find cozy textures, natural light (when possible), calming colors, and a chair that doesn’t swallow you whole.
But you’ll also see structure—my clipboard, your goals, a worksheet now and then.
Not because I’m judging or diagnosing you on paper, but because some part of healing needs clarity.
Sometimes, we need to see it before we can feel it.
And sometimes, we just need a prompt to break the silence when everything feels tangled.
🧃 Come As You Are (Really)
This room is for the version of you that’s tired of masking.
The one who’s exhausted, anxious, grieving, uncertain, or just… over it.
You can ramble. Cry. Sit quietly. Curse. Fidget. Laugh at something dark.
You can ask questions. Push back. Change your mind.
You can be exactly who you are—and not be judged for it.
💛 Why I’ve Made It This Way
I believe that therapy should feel human.
Yes, it can be clinical when needed—but it should also feel like a soft place to land.
A space where your nervous system can exhale.
A space that holds both your chaos and your calm.
Because healing doesn’t always happen in a straight line.
Sometimes it happens while coloring on the floor.
Sometimes it happens while circling words on a worksheet.
Sometimes it happens while you sit in silence with a weighted fidget and finally feel safe.
🧠 If You’re Curious About Starting…
You don’t have to know what to say.
You don’t have to bring a list of traumas or a perfect version of yourself.
You just have to show up.
And we’ll take it from there—clipboard, fidgets, awkward laughs and all.
