Services

Finding a therapist who genuinely gets it changes everything — not one who's willing to learn or will do their best, but one who already knows the terrain. As a queer therapist, I bring lived understanding to what my LGBTQ+ clients navigate: the layered work of identity, the calibration of being out (or not) in different rooms, the exhaustion of a polarized world, and the kinds of trauma folded into a queer life that rarely get named as trauma at all.

Unlike traditional talk therapy, EMDR doesn't ask you to rehash the past — it helps you metabolize it, using bilateral stimulation to work directly with the nervous system and lower the charge on memories that have remained stuck for years, sometimes decades. It tends to help people who already know a great deal about themselves — who can name the pattern and trace it to its origin, yet none of that knowing has changed how it feels in the body; I'm certified through the EMDR Center of Southern California and trained in Attachment-Focused EMDR.

We all have many parts, and they don't always agree — the part that wants to leave and the part that can't, the critic that arrives right before you try something, the part that shuts everything down when feeling gets to be too much. IFS starts from the premise that none of these parts are the enemy: each took on a job to protect you, and the work is getting to know them and meeting them from a grounded, compassionate, fully integrated Self — built for the exact experience of "I know what I should do, but I can't seem to do it."

Some healing happens below the level of words — if you've spent years understanding your patterns and still feel them running in your body, that's not a failure of insight but a sign the work needs to happen somewhere else. Somatic Integration Resonance Therapy is a bottom-up approach that guides you into a deeply therapeutic, meditative state where the nervous system can recalibrate, combining bilateral stimulation, sound bowls and tuning forks, and binaural music into a single cohesive modality.

Some people who find their way to KAP have tried everything — years of talk therapy, multiple medications, modalities that helped partially but never reached the layer where the pain actually lives. KAP pairs the neurological effects of ketamine with depth-oriented therapy across three phases — preparation, dosing, and integration — and the therapy is the point: dosing happens in person at a prescriber's office. We then integrate what came up to make the work longer lasting, often combining the work with EMDR or other somatic modalities.

The medicine opens the door; integration is what walks through it — whether you're holding something powerful from a psychedelic medicine retreat or ceremony that you don't know how to carry into your actual life, or preparing for an experience you want to approach with intention. Where it fits, I bring EMDR into the work to amplify and install what was luminous and true while desensitizing the heavier material so it loses its charge; my experience is direct and clinical, from formal research trials with MDMA, methylone, ibogaine, and 5-MeO-DMT, and I work from a non-judgmental, harm-reduction stance — I don't provide, source, or advise on obtaining any substance.

Your earliest relationships created a blueprint — a set of assumptions about closeness, safety, conflict, and worth — that still runs quietly in the background of every connection you have today, and when those relationships weren't attuned, it can keep you repeating patterns you can see clearly but can't quite change. Attachment-focused therapy brings that blueprint into focus, so you can understand it, work with it, and begin to rewrite the parts that have outlived their usefulness.

Trauma has a way of staying in the body long after the event has passed — the edginess without a cause, the pulling away from people you love, the sense that you can't fully relax aren't signs something is permanently wrong, but that your nervous system learned to protect you and now needs support to do something different. I work with adults carrying childhood, sexual, and medical trauma, and the long residue of unsafe relationships, using EMDR, somatic integration, and attachment-focused care — because these aren't character flaws, they're adaptations that made sense once and can change.

PTSD develops when the nervous system can't finish processing an experience — the brain never files the event under "over," so the threat stays neurologically active, and the intrusive memories, hypervigilance, and numbing are your survival response doing exactly what it was built to do long after the danger has passed. It isn't weakness or a character flaw but a survival response that got stuck; I treat both single-incident and complex PTSD using EMDR, somatic integration, and IFS, giving your nervous system new information — that it's over, and you can live differently now.

The voice in your head isn't entirely your own — it's been shaped by the people who raised you, the cultures you moved through, and the stories told about you for as long as you can remember, and some of that narration is useful while some of it is borrowed. Narrative therapy is the slow, deliberate work of separating the two: tracing the dominant stories back to where they came from, asking whose voice that really is and what believing it cost you, and reclaiming authorship.

True healing occurs in community, not isolation — group therapy offers what individual therapy structurally can't: the experience of being seen by people who don't need it explained to them. I run specialized groups including LGBTQ+ Process Groups, a Women's Sexual Assault Survivors group, Psychedelic Integration, The Artist's Way Group, and the Trans Allies Collective, all running virtually for clients in California, Idaho, Wyoming, Maryland, and New Jersey.