For the past two decades, I've devoted myself to understanding why people think, feel, and behave the way they do. It's work that has shown me the depth of human suffering. And, in equal measure, what it takes for a person to live a meaningful life.

That work began at the UCLA Intensive Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder Clinic, sitting with clients whose thoughts and rituals had come to rule their days. I learned there how much courage it takes to face a fear that never fully lets go. I had the privilege of helping many people do exactly that.

Later, at the Asian Pacific Family Center in Los Angeles, I worked alongside Asian and Latino American communities navigating mental health struggles often carried in silence. Helping create a space where people could finally speak openly, and feel empowered to change: that remains some of the most meaningful work I've done.

My doctoral training took me into inpatient units and locked, high-security facilities, places holding some of the deepest trauma and suffering a person can carry. I didn't just learn how to help there. I learned how much pain people can endure, how much pain we can cause one another, and how far the human psyche can be pushed and still find its way back.

Outside of the therapy room, I try to live by what I ask of my clients. I read, listen to music, walk my dog, meditate, and spend time with people I love… and I keep practicing the same things I encourage in session: sitting with discomfort instead of fleeing it, noticing my own blind spots, letting go when I need to, and asking for help when I do. Growth isn't something I've arrived at; it's something I keep returning to, in the books I read, the questions I sit with, and the life I try to live.