My story always starts with the relatives that came before me. The stories that I heard growing up were not my own, but they shaped me. These were stories about challenging times—war, grief, and uncertainty—common stories for immigrant, working class families. I loved hearing them, as they spoke of survival. Survival stories are carried from generation to generation, and they can sometimes narrow our view about what it means to be human. Through these stories, I was passed down memories and messages of hard work and conformity. These values helped my family find a sense of belonging and safety, however, they also made it difficult for me to connect with my whole, authentic self.

I’ve experienced how diverging from these norms can be a painful process, even when it is worthwhile. In this process, I have learned to look beyond the pain, fear, loss, and severance that I once associated with survival. I can also see the joy, the bravery, and the resourcefulness—and how these have shaped me, too. I have begun to see how the full spectrum of human experiences is what makes us whole. I think of this as a process of reclaiming my right to assign meaning to my own history.

Through these stories, and through my own experiences with loss and trauma, I have grown a deep appreciation for the complexity of being human. This appreciation informs how I work with my clients. My journey to becoming a therapist began in the client’s seat. I’ve felt how vulnerable it can be to explore your inner world, perhaps for the first time. I know it can feel scary to create a story that is different from the generations that came before you. I am familiar with the delicate process of honouring your family’s survival while stepping away from deeply valued and long-standing patterns. And, I understand how healing is a nonlinear and cyclical process. From these understandings, I have developed patience, compassion, and a genuine love for what I do.