Licensed Psychotherapist
My Story
I'm not sure which came first, whether I was drawn to people who were struggling, or they were drawn to me. Either way, it's been true for as long as I can remember. What keeps me in this work isn't the hard parts, and there are plenty. Sitting with someone in real pain never gets easier. It's those moments when someone says something out loud for the first time, or I see the expression on their face when something finally clicks. Whether it's one person in therapy or a room full of people in training, that “aha moment” when a shift in perspective becomes possible is why I do this work.
Perspective isn't just about how we see the world—it's about how we transform it.
I grew up watching my parents devote themselves to helping others and serving their community. Their example shaped my values long before I knew where my career would take me.
Early in my career, responding to September 11 taught me what trauma can do to individuals and entire communities. I spent the next two decades helping people navigate trauma, relationships, loss, and life's unexpected challenges.
Then October 7 happened, and something shifted. I recognized another communal trauma unfolding, this time within my own community, alongside profound questions of identity, belonging, and trust. I knew the work I'd built couldn't remain within the walls of my therapy office.
That realization led me to expand my work through Kesher Shalom Projects, bringing psychological education and practical tools to professionals, organizations, and communities.
Like so many women, I know what it’s like to juggle all the roles ofcareer, family, personal growth—and still feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day. As a wife and mom of three, I’ve had to learn that we can’t do it all, and we’re not supposed to. I bring that same perspective into my work, helping people navigate life’s demands with a little more self-compassion and clarity.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned? Healing doesn’t have to be so heavy all the time. Even in the most challenging moments, we can still have humor, lightness, and connection, and that we are stronger than we give ourselves credit.
It's more than a phrase I use in my work. It's a belief that has shaped both my personal and professional life.
Perspective doesn't mean minimizing pain, pretending everything is fine, or finding a silver lining in every difficult experience. It means recognizing that even when we cannot change our circumstances, we can influence how we understand them, respond to them, and move forward.
I believe people are more than the difficult experiences they've lived through. We're shaped by our histories, relationships, identities, and the meaning we make of what happens to us.
Curiosity, compassion, and connection are at the heart of my work. Whether I'm sitting with one person or speaking to hundreds, my goal is to help people better understand themselves and others, strengthen their resilience, and discover new possibilities.
My father often shared the words of Rabbi Hillel:
"If I am not for myself, who will be for me? But if I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?"
Those words have stayed with me. They remind me that caring for ourselves and caring for others are not competing responsibilities, and that understanding matters most when it leads to action.