I’ve always known I was meant to help people. As a teenager, I volunteered anywhere I could. In college, I studied psychology and pre-med, drawn to the simple truth that at our core, every one of us longs to be seen, heard, and valued just as we are. Becoming a clinical psychologist was a natural extension of that calling.

Over the years, my work expanded. When I founded a group psychotherapy practice in Chicago, I wasn’t just helping clients—I was also nurturing my employees’ growth. And when I became a solo mom by choice in 2014, that commitment to growth and care deepened exponentially.

My life felt electric with purpose… Until it didn’t.

The pandemic pushed us all into isolation. Insurance audits drained energy and focus. Burnout spread like wildfire through the mental health field. In 2021, I unexpectedly lost my beloved clinical director who was also a dear friend. And by early 2022, my entire team resigned. As the practice owner, urgent employee recruiter, supervisor, single mother, and everyone’s financial caretaker, I couldn’t step away. I kept pushing—until I had nothing left.

I was underwater, gasping for air. Fighting. Struggling. Drowning. And eventually, I had to make the hardest decision of my professional life… I had to get out of the water.

So I shut down my practice. Just like that.

That ending, as painful as it was, became a beginning.

I turned inward. I grieved, rested, and began to rebuild—not just my career, but my self. I appreciated my daughter’s magnificence once again, reconnected with simple pleasures such as reading fiction and cooking, and engaged with activities and people that truly filled my soul.