What a strange world we live in. There is so much hate and intolerance here, yet simultaneously so much love and tenderness. It’s a difficult world to live in at times, but boy, I’m so grateful to be here—to be alive, to breathe, to feel, to be conscious, to sense my body, to hear through these ears, and to see through these eyes. Even though we are all blind to so much—for there is so much beyond our perception—we are still so privileged to feel so clearly through these tender hearts of ours. Though our minds can get lost in details, confusion, and indecision, our hearts nearly always know which path to walk. Such sensitive organs, our hearts. They know the way toward love, and they also detect the absence of it. Our hearts, if we listen closely, lead us toward tending to ourselves and others, and thankfully, I have felt mine more and more clearly with each passing year.
I have two teenage boys, and there’s no way to express how much I love them and how blessed I am to be their dad. I have grieved and healed so much through raising them—through both giving them the love I didn’t receive when I was a kid and becoming acutely aware of how emotionally absent my own parents really were. To witness my boys grow up—their esteem intact, their confidence solid, their bodies grounded, pushing through their fears, learning to trust themselves, and opening their hearts—has been such a relief. It’s like a long, relaxing exhale, knowing that although they will suffer in this life, they will not, thankfully, suffer in the ways I did. I pray the future will offer all of our children a world with balance, stability, and safety for their lives.
I am so lucky to have people I love in this life. My dearest friends fill my heart with laughter, joy, reverence, and connection. My sweetie, Ivy, is my best friend, and holy smokes, I just can’t imagine my life without her.
I have worked in social services and mental health in some capacity most of my adult life. Over the years I’ve had various counseling and consultation roles within emergency shelters, hospice, home-based therapy programs, residential treatment centers, mental health clinics, and private practice. My first job in college was working for the Los Angeles Unified School District as a youth counselor at an overnight camp designed to help teenagers from opposing street gangs make peace with each other. Seeing these bad-ass Crip and Blood gangster kids—the kind that typically don’t take shit from anyone—regress back into being scared of the dark while we escorted them on nighttime hikes was one of my first clues that many of us, for our own survival, live our lives behind a façade. This concept continued to reveal itself throughout my professional and personal life.
After receiving my undergraduate degree in philosophy from California Lutheran University (1994), I earned a master’s degree in counseling psychology from Humboldt State University (1999). I was formerly licensed as a marriage and family therapist in Alaska, and since 2001 I have been licensed as a mental health counselor in Washington State.
In 2002 I began three years of basic and advanced training in Internal Family Systems Therapy (IFS) with Richard Schwartz, PhD, the developer of IFS, and other lead trainers from the IFS Institute. Over the years I’ve assisted in IFS trainings, hosted IFS Institute workshops, and provided clinical supervision to other therapists.
In 2006 I founded GoodTherapy.org, a social enterprise with the mission of demystifying therapy and helping people find healthy therapists—the kind who actually do their own therapy—who are aware of healthy boundaries, ethics, and don’t abuse others with their power. Within a few years GoodTherapy.org became one of the leading mental health resources online, receiving millions of monthly visitors and supporting tens of thousands of therapists worldwide. My deeper intention behind building GoodTherapy.org was to reduce harm in therapy and prevent others from being victimized by unhealthy therapists, the way my parents had been when I was a child.
In the 1970s, when I was still a child, my family was torn apart by the Center for Feeling Therapy—a power-abusing therapy cult that later became responsible for the largest mental health malpractice lawsuit in California’s history. Among countless transgressions, the Center’s therapists were notorious for emotionally, physically, and sexually abusing their clients and coercing parents into having abortions or giving their existing children up for adoption. I was only five when my little brother and I were separated from our parents for a year and a half. The abandonment, neglect, and emotional and physical abuse I endured left me with profound attachment wounds.
Cumulatively, the experience broke my heart and burdened me with feeling unlovable, unwanted, and worthless. To survive, I detached myself from the external world and numbed my pain with all kinds of coping skills—avoiding, detaching, people-pleasing, attention-seeking, sex, drugs, alcohol, overeating, striving, and almost always trying too hard. I had also completely repressed most of my early childhood memories. It would take decades for me to recognize how wounded I was and to heal. And it would take even more years thereafter before I was able to heal my relationship with my mom.
In my early 30s I began the inner journey of unburdening all the worthlessness and unwantedness that I had absorbed in my childhood. In therapy sessions, I would spend much of the time focused inside myself, eyes closed, witnessing, listening, and learning what it was like for the little boys I used to be at different ages. After years of bottling up my pain, my heart began opening to myself, and I became more aware of how much hurt I’d been carrying. Grief flowed out of me like a dam had broken. What a relief it was to cry it out, without shame or fear of being judged by others. If I needed to wail uncontrollably, slump over in grief, or pound my fists against the floor, I was free to do so. My therapist’s care and kindness never wavered, and I had never before experienced this kind of safety and unconditional love. It offered my psyche a freedom and permission I’d never had before to finally let go. My body shook as stored energy and feelings flowed out of me. It was intense but not overwhelming, and I always felt better after crying it out. I know now that the secret ingredient which prevented me from feeling overwhelmed by my pain was simply compassion. And it wasn’t just the presence of my therapist’s compassion or the self-compassion I discovered in my own heart—there was something present in these sessions that was greater than both of us. This presence, which flowed into me like a warm, soft light, was the most powerful energy I have ever witnessed, and paradoxically, its essence was solely absolute and pure loving-kindness. I had spent years isolated in my own heart, my deepest pain cloaked and hidden from others, and now I not only knew I wasn’t alone in the universe, I deeply felt it.
Yes, therapy saved my life. Over time I would come to care deeply for myself, for all the lost little boys I used to be, in the way they had always needed. The higher love that therapy introduced me to mended my heart. Over time, I shifted from trying to get the love I wanted from others—from chasing approval and acceptance—to feeling directly connected to love itself.
It is because I have suffered that I enjoy holding space for those who are also suffering or struggling. Although I have all the necessary credentials, what actually makes me qualified to help is that I have fallen into the abyss of pain, loss, doubt, and fear. I am qualified to help because I have journeyed into dark places and have found my way out to the other side of the pain. What exists on the other side is something I wish I could share with every one of us. But this something cannot be given away. It cannot be taught, bought, or consumed. As far as I can tell, it is only found as part of a sacred journey into one’s own heart. This is the journey I am here to help with.
In 2017 my mom was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, and I fell into a huge, beautiful midlife crisis. To continue healing my relationship with my mom and to spend time with her before she passed, I decided to step down from my role as CEO of GoodTherapy.org. I sold the company and stepped away from mental health for a couple of years. This offered me the time to peel back more layers of the onion, tend to other fears hidden within me, and spend more time connecting to spirit.
As a child I had out-of-body experiences. These often happened during the worst periods, and although I wasn’t fully aware at the time why they were happening, they were like a lifeline—connecting me to merciful energies of tranquility, beauty, peace, love, and trust. Although I wouldn’t call myself clairvoyant, I have found that when in deep trance or during the waking hours of early morning, I’m able to communicate with loved ones who have passed on. Being able to maintain my connection to family members, friends, and pets—and to turn to them for help—has also been a lifeline. I wasn’t raised religiously and don’t subscribe to any dogma, yet these and other transcendent experiences have given me absolute trust that there is life after life. This knowledge and these experiences haven’t canceled out grief and loss, but they certainly help.
My mom and dad passed within six months of each other in 2019 and 2020. Their illnesses and their passings delivered both grief and, eventually, unexpected gifts. After they passed, they beckoned me to take a trust fall with my life and to use my time here. So moved by how I was able to heal my relationship with my mom, I began writing down ideas and formulating a book about the healing journey, which I am still working on. I also began writing songs, unearthing songs from earlier in life, and performing with my band, Elevator Operator. I really feel moved and inspired to use my life to help uplift others, and for this I am so grateful.
At times the pain we experience in this life overwhelms us, yet on the deepest level all the misfortune, loss, and suffering we feel is here to serve us in the growth of our soul. Arising from our suffering, there are beautiful, unpredictable, and hidden gifts—which, until we make it through to the other side of our pain, we may not even be able to imagine. In no way do I minimize how painful our losses and misfortunes are. They are enough to bring us to our knees, to lose all hope, to destroy all meaning, and to annihilate our will to live. Yet even in the abyss and shock of suffering, if we can grieve, if we can be tender with ourselves, if we can cry out with the full depth of our pain, if we can ask in total vulnerability for mercy and stay open to receiving, the love in the universe will respond—and we can begin to heal.
