Therapy for the helpers, healers, and high-functioners who are quietly coming undone.
You’re calm under pressure, good in a crisis, and quietly disassociating in the break room.
You’re the one people rely on when things fall apart. You’ve made a career out of staying steady under pressure — but it’s costing you.
When you’re constantly holding space for others, your own needs get pushed so far down you forget they even exist. This is the part where you remember you’re human, too.
Lately, it feels like you’re holding yourself together with duct tape and sarcasm. Even when you look fine from the outside, inside you're dissociating mid-text message and wondering how long you can keep doing this. That’s not weakness — it’s burnout with a brave face.
What You Might Be Experiencing:
You’re flawlessly charting patient notes at 11:59pm… and can’t decide what to eat, so you just stare into the fridge until the light feels hostile.
You powered through back-to-back shifts, but a frozen pizza feels like a whole-ass obstacle course.
Your knitting needles/craft glue/watercolor set sit beside you like tiny abandoned dreams while you scroll memes and try not to cry.
You answered 17 urgent emails today — but replying “lol” to your friend’s text feels like a Herculean task.
Your brain says “let’s write that novel” while your body says “we live here now” and sinks deeper into the couch.
You rehearse difficult conversations in your head with extreme precision — and then get derailed by a sink full of dishes.
You keep telling yourself “after this week it’ll slow down,” and you’ve been lying for 3 years.
Corporate burnout trainings encourage you to journal. To hydrate. To do five deep breaths while your nervous system silently screams and the break room microwave flickers like a cursed relic from an underworld Costco.
Meanwhile, units are understaffed on purpose. Documentation expectations defy the laws of physics. And somehow it’s your job to stay regulated while protecting your license, your patients, and your will to live.
Let’s be clear: this isn’t burnout because you didn’t try hard enough. This is the inevitable outcome of moral injury, martyrdom conditioning, and a system that treats your body like a rechargeable empathy battery.
Therapy can’t fix the system. But it can help you stop internalizing the damage — and start reclaiming your humanity from the jaws of fluorescent-lit bullshit.
My approach
I’ve worked with enough helpers to know this: the people keeping everyone else afloat are often the ones quietly sinking.
I get the pressure, the pacing, the paperwork, the performative wellness initiatives.
I’m not here to fix you — you’re not broken. I’m here because you’ve been surviving a system that treats burnout like a badge of honor and sensitivity like a flaw.
Therapy with me is part unlearning, part nervous system rehab, part emotional exorcism. We laugh, we swear, we name the thing behind the thing.
You’ll leave with more self-trust, fewer guilt reflexes, and actual tools for navigating a healthcare system that was built for profit, not people.
If you’ve been waiting for a sign that it’s okay to stop white-knuckling through this… hi.
I’m the sign.
Schedule a free consult and let’s talk.
