Beyond the Session Room: Who I Am and Why I Do This Work

Most people meet me for the first time in a therapy space. They see the steady chair, the soft lamp, the quiet room where stories unfold. But the work I do, and the person I am, extends far beyond that space. The path that led me to this profession has been shaped by service, by community, and by standing alongside people who carry more than most will ever speak aloud.

For over two decades, I have worked as a trauma therapist alongside veterans, service members, first responders, caregivers, and adults who live with long-term stress or trauma. My understanding of healing was formed not only through clinical training, but through years of witnessing what trauma does to the body, to relationships, and to a person’s sense of self. This work asks for presence, honesty, and the ability to sit with someone in the moments when everything feels heavy, confusing, or fractured. It is a responsibility I do not take lightly.

My professional life has taken me into classrooms as a counseling professor, where I teach emerging clinicians how to listen with discipline and humility. Supervision and education are forms of service too, passing forward the lessons earned in real rooms with real people. As a clinical supervisor, guiding the next generation of counselors keeps me grounded in the belief that our field changes one practitioner at a time, one conversation at a time, one moment of clarity at a time.

Advocacy has also shaped who I am. My work with veterans and their families has opened doors to conversations at the national level, including opportunities to share insight with the U.S. Department of Veteran Affairs. Those moments did not make me who I am, but they reminded me why this work matters. When people in positions of influence create space for mental health professionals to speak, it reinforces a truth I hold closely: the emotional wounds carried by service members deserve the same seriousness and attention as their physical ones.

Long before I became a clinician, I was called to serve as an ordained Christian minister. My role in ministry does not replace clinical work, nor does it dictate it, but it informs the way I see people. It reminds me that dignity is the starting point for every therapeutic relationship. It keeps me anchored in compassion, in integrity, and in the belief that healing is not only clinical, it’s deeply human.

Outside the therapy room, I am a husband, a father, a teacher, an advocate, and a man shaped by the communities I’ve served. I have witnessed what courage looks like: stepping into a first session, telling the truth for the first time, asking for help when everything feels overwhelming. Healing is not linear, and it is rarely fast, but it is possible.

This blog is an extension of that work. A space to share what I’ve learned about trauma, resilience, identity, and the long road home after difficult seasons. A space where you can see not only the clinician, but the person behind the chair, the one who believes deeply in your capacity to rebuild, reclaim, and rise.

Thank you for being here.Thank you for letting me share my voice. And if you are carrying more than you can hold alone, I hope these words meet you with steadiness and hope.