Frequently Asked Questions

A typical therapy session is 60 minutes, and I also offer 30-minute sessions when appropriate. That said, I don’t practice with one eye constantly on the clock. When clinically appropriate and scheduling allows, sessions may run longer because sometimes the work doesn’t fit neatly into an hour.

Just reach out. You don’t need to know exactly what you want to work on or have the perfect explanation for why you’re looking for therapy. We’ll start with a conversation, talk about what you need, and decide whether we’re a good fit.

I offer a free 15-minute phone consultation before scheduling your first appointment. It’s simply a chance for us to talk briefly about what you’re looking for, answer any questions you have, and get a sense of whether we might be a good fit.

You don’t need to tell me your whole story in 15 minutes. That’s not what it’s for.

My office is at 2025 Broadway in Schenectady, near the Broadway Diner, with a bus stop right out front. It’s a small office that I share with two attorneys.

Online therapy works much like an in-person session, except we meet through a secure video platform. You can attend from a private, comfortable space without having to travel to the office. We’ll still talk, work through what’s going on, and probably laugh occasionally, just through a screen.

I work with adolescents ages 14-17 and adults 18 and older. My approach is individualized to the person in front of me, because a 16-year-old, a 40-year-old, and a 70-year-old may all be dealing with trauma, grief, or anxiety, but they certainly aren’t experiencing it the same way.

I work with men, women, and adolescents ages 14-17 in individual therapy. Men’s mental health is a significant focus of my practice, but my practice is not limited to men. I do not provide couples therapy, although relationships, marriage, family dynamics, and communication can absolutely be part of individual therapy, with the occasional family/important person included when needed.

I earned my Master’s degree from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology and have continued my education with advanced training and certifications in trauma and grief. I believe continuing education matters, especially when you’re asking people to trust you with some of the hardest parts of their lives.

Yes. I am a New York State Licensed Mental Health Counselor with Diagnostic Privilege (LMHC-D). I am also a National Certified Counselor (NCC), Certified Clinical Trauma Professional-II (CCTP-II), and Certified Advanced Grief Counseling Specialist (CAGCS).

Yes. Very. I want my office to feel like somewhere you can actually settle in, not like you’re sitting in a doctor’s waiting room for an hour. Get comfortable. That’s the point.

Absolutely not. This isn’t Freud’s office. Sit on the fluffy pink carpet, curl up in the chair, put your feet up (within reason 😂), whatever helps you feel comfortable enough to actually be present.

Honestly? Not a terrible idea. But crying is not a requirement for successful therapy. You might cry. You might laugh. You might do both within five minutes. Whatever happens, I have tissues.

Whatever is soft and doesn’t feel like sandpaper on your face. I’m a therapist, not a monster. There are always tissues within reach, and you’re more than welcome to use as many as you need.

But I’m probably not going to hand them to you. Not because I don’t care, but because crying isn’t something I need to rescue you from. The tissues are there when you decide you want one.

Absolutely. You can ask me anything. That doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll answer everything (healthy therapeutic boundaries still matter), but you’re never going to get in trouble for asking. If I don’t answer something, I’ll tell you why.

Amazon, although we need to have a serious conversation about what happened to two-day shipping. TikTok, because I absolutely enjoy mindlessly scrolling and have fallen down more rabbit holes than I care to admit. And honestly, anything that lets me shop. If I can browse it, add it to a cart, and convince myself I need something I didn’t know existed five minutes ago, I’m probably happy. 😂

Lizard. I don’t do this bullshit, but you made me pick one. 🦎

Why are we creating unnecessary conflict? 😂 Both. But considering there’s a French Bulldog with her own page on my website, dogs may have a slight advantage in the office.

Absolutely. You do not need to make your life PG-rated for me. Sometimes “I’m frustrated” works, and sometimes “this is fucking bullshit” is considerably more accurate. Use the words that actually fit.

Then tell me you have absolutely no idea what you want to talk about. That’s a perfectly acceptable place to start. You don’t need to arrive with an agenda. I ask questions for a living. We’ll figure it out.

Luna has witnessed humans make an astonishing number of questionable decisions and remains remarkably unbothered. She doesn’t care about your diagnosis, your past, or what you’re about to tell me. Her primary concerns are attention, comfort, and probably snacks.

Then you cry. You don’t need to apologize, explain it, or immediately try to stop. There are always tissues nearby, but I’m not going to rush to hand you one. Crying isn’t an emergency, and I don’t need to rescue you from having an emotion. When you want a tissue, it’s there.

Also completely fine. Crying isn’t proof that therapy is working, and not crying doesn’t mean you aren’t affected. There is no emotional performance requirement here.

Then apparently we’re starting with “I don’t fucking know.” 😂 Sometimes that’s the most honest answer you have. We can work from there.

No. That sounds uncomfortable for both of us. I talk, ask questions, give feedback, laugh, challenge you when appropriate, and actually participate in the conversation. You will not be responsible for filling 60 minutes of awkward silence.

Please tell me. Therapy isn’t about me being right and you agreeing with everything I say. You can disagree with me, correct me, tell me I completely missed the point, or say something isn’t working. That’s part of having an actual therapeutic relationship.

God, yes. We can talk about incredibly painful things and still laugh. Humor doesn’t mean you’re avoiding your pain or that your story isn’t serious. Sometimes laughing is part of getting through it.

Nope. Look at me, look at Luna, stare at the floor, fidget with something, or look around the room. I’m much more interested in you being present than in whether you’re performing what someone decided “good communication” is supposed to look like.

Tell me when you’re ready. I’m not interested in reducing you to the worst decision you’ve ever made. We can acknowledge harm, accountability, regret, and consequences without deciding that one part of your story is the entirety of who you are.

Respectfully? Yes. 😂 I’m not going to agree with you simply because I’m your therapist. If I see a pattern, contradiction, or something getting in your way, we’re probably going to talk about it. That doesn’t mean I’m against you. Usually it means I’m paying attention.

Please do. Therapy doesn’t have to be reserved for emergencies. Some of the best work happens when we’re not putting out fires and actually have room to understand what’s changing, what’s working, and what you want next.

Then we’re probably not going to force homework just so I can say I assigned homework. If an activity, writing exercise, or tool actually fits what we’re doing, I may suggest it. If it isn’t useful to you, we’re not checking boxes for the sake of checking boxes.

Define normally. 😂 Get comfortable. Sit sideways, curl your legs up, grab a pillow, change chairs, whatever. As long as everybody is safe and we’re able to do the work, I’m not grading your sitting technique.