You've probably read a dozen therapist bios that all sound the same. "I believe in a client centered, holistic approach." Cool. Great. Tells you nothing about who I actually am or whether you'd want to sit across from me for an hour every week.
So let's skip that version. Here's the real one.
I Wasn't Supposed to Be a Therapist
Growing up in Houston, I was the kid who was good at school and expected to do something impressive with it. Oil and gas felt like the obvious path. It's what a smart Houstonian was "supposed" to do, and I landed some prestigious internships in college to prove I could hack it.
Here's the problem. I wasn't happy. Not even a little. I was living out my parents' dream instead of figuring out my own, and I didn't even realize that's what was happening until I could feel it in my chest every time I sat in another finance meeting.
The moment that changed everything wasn't dramatic. It happened at a fraternity party, of all places. Instead of doing the usual party things, I ended up out by the pool on a lounge chair with my date, just talking. About life. About the good stuff and the hard stuff. About trauma, hopes, dreams, the whole thing. And it was, hands down, the best time I'd ever had at a party.
That conversation lit something up in me that oil and gas never had. Around the same time, I was in my own therapy working through questions about identity and who I really was. My therapist, mid-session one day, told me I should become a therapist and that I'd probably be better at it than he was.
That comment stuck. I made a decision after that: if I wanted to actually be happy in my life, I had to stop chasing goals that belonged to other people and start building a life around what I actually believed and who I actually was.
I care deeply about people. I feel things hard. And I genuinely love holding someone's hand and walking through life with them, the good parts and the messy parts, no performance required. That's the whole reason I do this work.
How I Actually Show Up in Session
I've described myself before as a cheerleader therapist who will also call you on your shit.
That's not a contradiction, it's the whole philosophy. I'm not the therapist who just nods and asks "and how did that make you feel?" for fifty minutes straight. I show up with a plan. I push you to open up, to look at the thing you've been avoiding, to get honest with yourself even when it's uncomfortable.
But I do all of that with a hug and a smile, not a clipboard and a straight face.
Here's what that looks like in practice:
- You'll feel safe. Session is a place where you can say the thing you've never said out loud without fear of being judged for it.
- You'll also get challenged. I'm not going to let you stay stuck in the same patterns just because it's comfortable to talk about them instead of changing them.
- You'll never feel like a diagnosis. You're a full, complicated, interesting human, not a checklist of symptoms.
- You'll get real talk, not just validation. Sometimes the most caring thing I can do is tell you the truth you already know deep down.
I also believe therapy shouldn't feel like homework you dread. Yes, we'll dig into hard stuff. Yes, there will be sessions that leave you a little raw. But there should also be moments where we laugh, where you feel lighter walking out than you did walking in, and where you leave with something actually useful, not just a vague sense that you talked for an hour.
I'm not big on sitting in silence waiting for you to figure it out on your own. I'll ask the questions you're avoiding asking yourself. I'll name the pattern you keep repeating even when it's uncomfortable to hear. And I'll celebrate the wins with you like they actually matter, because they do.
Who I Love Working With
I light up when I get to work with people who are ready to explore who they actually are. People who've been living according to someone else's rules for too long, whether that's family, culture, religion, or just plain fear, and who are finally ready to find freedom on the other side of that.
If you've spent years wearing a mask because it felt safer than being seen, I get it. That's not a hypothetical for me. That's a huge part of why I do this work in the first place, and it's the kind of transformation I find the most meaningful to be part of.
Life Outside the Office
Therapists are people too, believe it or not. Here's what I'm actually like when I'm not in session.
- I'm highly social. Most of my free time is spent with friends. I recharge by being around people, not by hiding from them.
- I love the water. Jet skiing out on the lake is one of my favorite ways to spend a weekend.
- I love to explore and travel, especially anywhere with a beach.
- I drive my convertible with the top down, even in 100 degree Houston humidity, because I refuse to let common sense ruin a good time.
- I'm on a personal quest through Houston's food scene to find a dish spicy enough to actually burn me out. So far, I’m winning.
- I love to dance and move. If there's music playing, there's a good chance I'm not sitting still.
- I'm a certified Pokémon and Star Wars nerd. No shame. Ask me about either and watch me light up.
- And yes, sex is genuinely one of my passions. Not just professionally as a sex therapist, but as a topic I find endlessly fascinating about the human experience. Turns out that's a pretty handy thing to be passionate about when it's also your job.
What Working Together Actually Looks Like
I get it, reaching out to a therapist for the first time can feel like a big, scary unknown. So here's a little transparency about what you can expect if we end up working together.
- The first session is about getting oriented, not fixing everything. We'll talk through what brought you in, what you're hoping changes, and what your life actually looks like right now.
- We'll build an actual plan. I'm not a fan of aimless sessions. We'll set goals together and check in on them regularly so you can actually see your own progress.
- You set the pace. Some people want to dive straight into the deep end. Others need time to build trust first. Both are completely fine with me.
- I'll meet you where you are, not where I think you should be. Whether that's exploring your sexuality, untangling family dynamics, working through shame, or just figuring out who you are outside of everyone else's expectations, we start with your reality, not a script.
If you've been putting off therapy because you're worried it'll feel clinical, cold, or like you're just a case number, that's not what you'll find here. You'll find someone who's genuinely invested in your story.
The Real Me, Beyond the Bio
I haven't always been the confident, self-assured guy you might meet in session today. For a long time, I was actually a pretty shy wallflower kid. It took real work to learn how to love and accept myself and to stop giving so much power to what other people thought of me. If you're somewhere in that same process right now, I promise you, it's possible to come out the other side.
I'm also part of the LGBTQ+ community myself, which shapes a lot of how I show up for my clients who share that experience, whether that comes up directly in our work together or just quietly informs how I understand it. I don't lead with that as some big reveal, it's just part of who I am, the same way the rest of this bio is.
If my friends had to describe me in a few words, here's what they came up with: self-assured, unapologetic, thoughtful, energetic, intentional, playful, caring, introspective, empathetic, driven, considerate, brave, silly, and kind.
I'll let you decide if they're right. But I'd like to think they're onto something.
What I Hope You Feel Reading This
Honestly, if you got to the end of this and thought, "okay, this guy actually gets it," then I've done my job.
I want you to feel like you found someone warm and comfortable to talk to, but also someone who's smart, grounded, and has genuinely done his own work to figure things out. Someone you can trust. Someone you can learn from. Someone who isn't going to flinch no matter what you bring into the room.
Therapy works best when it doesn't feel like therapy. It should feel like a real conversation with someone who actually cares how your story turns out.
If any part of what you just read resonated with you, whether it was the mask thing, the shame thing, the "I've been living for everyone else's dreams" thing, I'd love to help you figure out what your own version of that pool conversation looks like.
Let's find it together.
