My Story
Long before I became a therapist, I was a skeptic. I remember walking into my first therapy session in my early twenties, thinking the whole concept seemed fishy. I spent those early sessions with a lingering suspicion that the practitioner in front of me was just clocking in and out—and that I didn’t really matter to them as a person (oof!).
Over time, I warmed up to the concept of therapy and even started looking forward to sessions, but that skeptical voice lingered. At that point, I had no idea what the future held for me (spoiler: I became a therapist).
For years, no matter what job I had, my favourite part was always the connections I made with my closest colleagues. I’d spend my lunch breaks having deep conversations about life, goals, and struggles. It wasn’t the work I was attached to; it was the people.
Looking back, it’s funny how the groundwork had already been laid. I’d attend social events and slog through small talk until I found someone I could really connect with. The weather or hockey scores? Not for me (and let’s be honest, our team rarely does well anyway!). What truly interested me was understanding what made people tick.
It was as if my body had been listening to the whispers of my soul and said, “Ah! I know how to make you shift!” It gave me just enough stress—and symptoms of that stress—to push me toward a more meaningful path.
And so began my experience with burnout. I remember exhausting my sick days and personal leave on endless doctor’s appointments, trying to figure out the cause of my mysterious cluster of symptoms. I became a regular at my local pharmacy, hoping each prescription would finally relieve the stomach pain, body aches, migraines, and general malaise. But nothing worked.
It wasn’t until part of my face went completely numb for weeks—and I ended up in an MRI machine—that I had a moment of reckoning. As I lay in that swirling magnetic tube, I thought, “Is this worth it if I don’t even like my job?
So, I took a leave. I never went back. And my symptoms disappeared. Shortly after, I enrolled in the education program that led me to my counselling certification. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was in the right place.
The skeptic who once scoffed at the idea that her therapist might genuinely care now found herself on the other side, learning how the sausage is made. What did I discover? A cohort of counsellors whose journeys mirrored mine—people longing for a profession that made a direct impact on others.
That little skeptic inside me didn’t vanish entirely (my cohort would humorously attest to that!), but my drive to help people and deepen my knowledge triumphed.
When I tossed my graduation cap (on Zoom!) and started my practice in the middle of the pandemic, I was both terrified and incredibly excited.
I had worried that becoming a therapist might turn me into a butter-soft, cardigan-wearing sage whose feet never touched the ground. Instead, I’ve been able to bring every part of myself into the work: my humour, cultural references (yes, even Real Housewives), lived experiences, and other facets of my personality.
That skeptical mind of mine found new homework—not critiquing the profession but diving deep into understanding relational dynamics, spotting abusive behaviours, family systems, systemic oppression, emotional neglect, and other insidious workings of the world. That part of me now works for me and my clients.
As clients came through my door and I honed my skills, I grew to love my profession more than I ever expected. Witnessing clients change, grow, rediscover their zest for life, find their voice, and cultivate healthier relationships with themselves and others? Nothing beats it.
Every day, I’m honoured to hold space for people’s stories and to foster bonds that help them progress toward their healing goals. If you had told my younger self—the one working at a bank or in public service—that this life was ahead, I wouldn’t have believed you. But thankfully, through my own healing, my body’s protests (hello, burnout), and an in-depth education, Allora Counselling came to life.
It turns out my desire for deep connection and conversation, my skeptical mind, and my body’s resistance to unfulfilling work weren’t problems at all. They were windows into the path I was meant to take.
If you’re considering my services and want to learn more about my approach—or the “why” behind my work—send me an email or book a consultation. I’d love to hear about your needs and explore how I can support you.
