I came to this work through movement.

Before I was a therapist, I was a dancer. For decades, I lived inside what the body knows when it is given full permission to express; the intelligence of it, the grief inside it, the way sensation carries what language cannot. Dance was not something I performed. It was how I understood the world.

Alongside the movement work, I spent sixteen years inside the most acute edges of psychiatric care at Bellevue Hospital in New York, working with adults in crisis, with incarcerated men navigating mental illness, with adolescents in profound pain. I learned, in that container, the full weight of what a human nervous system can hold. I also learned what it needs to heal: not fixing, not analysing. Presence. Attunement. Safety that is felt in the body, not just promised in words.

What I practice now is the integration of all of it. The clinical rigor. The somatic intelligence. The dancer's understanding that the body does not lie — and that it also knows, with tremendous precision, exactly how to find its way back.