About Amy

I’m the youngest in a military family, which means I grew up packing boxes, meeting new faces, and calling lots of places “home” (Arizona still has a piece of my heart, by the way). Living this way taught me a lot about structure—think “keep it tidy, solve the problem, don’t make a fuss.” Handy rules, right? But as a kid who wanted to be a little louder, a little weirder, it sometimes felt like living life inside a coloring book...with only a few crayons.

Moving so often dropped me into new schools and neighborhoods. I got used to starting over, making friends, and saying goodbye. That was hard. All this change made me crave a sense of “home” that went deeper—something grounded inside me, not just in my address. I didn’t have the words for it then, but now I do: roots. We all need them. If you feel tossed around by life, I see you. We can dig for those roots, together.

Spending years in new places taught me to listen, really listen, to different stories. I got comfortable with “new”—new people, new routines, surprises (big and small). Trust me, constant change is exciting...until it isn’t. Sometimes it just feels overwhelming, and you start to wonder if you’ll ever feel settled. But that’s where my love for connection grew. Turns out, I need people—and I bet you do too.

Fast forward: I built a life in Texas working in child and family welfare as a social worker. I learned a lot about how families work (or don’t). I saw up close how our early years shape who we become. Studying, working, and sitting in my own therapy chair made this clear—our past follows us, but it doesn’t get to decide our whole story. You get a say, too.

Here’s the deal: Life is messy. We all hit rough patches. Most of us try to handle things on our own, but that’s a lot to carry. My job now? I show up, sit with you, and hear you out—just as you are. I use a little humor (okay, sometimes a lot) to make tough talks less scary. We figure out how to face the hard stuff together—no stuffing it down or pretending it’ll disappear. Spoiler: it won’t.

If you land in my office, something in your life probably isn’t working. Maybe you feel broken, but trust me, you aren’t. You matter—messy, needy, hopeful, all of it. If you’re here, you’re already moving forward. That’s worth a high five.

Getting better starts with one step. No one skips the hard parts. We each have a path, and no two look the same. If you want someone in your corner—cheering you on, making space for what’s real—tag me in. I’m here for it.

Ready when you are. Let’s get started.