My Why: My Journey to Becoming a Therapist, Specifically, a Grief Counselor
People sometimes ask why I chose grief counseling as a profession. Why walk alongside people in their deepest pain, their most unimaginable losses, their rawest transitions?
The answer is both simple and layered. I did not choose grief. Rather, Grief chose me.
Like many healers, my path into this work did not begin in a classroom or a textbook. It began with lived experience. I remember my first experience with pet loss was the death of a cat when I was five. My first experience of human loss was with a grandmother at age 11. Cancer and suicide have taken many people close to me throughout the years. The majority of pets and service dogs throughout my life have died from various types of cancer. I had an opportunity to be a peer counselor to younger students when I was in middle school in Westminster, Colorado. I also seemed to be the person others came to when they had problems or just needed someone to listen to.
I learned early that loss changes you forever. It is not always in visible ways, but in quiet, altering ones. Grief shifts how you move through the world, how you perceive time, how deeply you love, and how fully you live in the present moment. Long before I ever held the title “grief counselor”, or began offering professional grief counseling services in Westminster Colorado, I knew grief intimately as a human being trying to make sense of heartbreak and absence.
Loss has a way of turning upside down everything we thought we understood about life. The illusion of permanence falls away, and suddenly we are confronted with the vulnerability of love in a world where nothing is guaranteed. Grief can be isolating, especially when there is little space for honest conversations about death, sorrow, or longing. I discovered that people often pull away from those experiencing grief, because of their discomfort, uncertainty, or fear of saying the wrong thing.
What I needed then, and what so many others need now, was not advice, platitudes, or timelines for healing. I needed presence. I needed someone who could sit with me in uncertainty without trying to fix it. I needed someone who was willing to witness pain without turning away. I did receive this support, and sometimes it came from unexpected people or places. Having others help support me through multiple losses is one reason I have ended up where I am today.
From Personal to Professional
As I grew older, I became interested in human emotions, especially those that fall into the “uncomfortable” category. Grief, rage, despair, trauma, longing. I noticed how often these emotions were dismissed or minimized. We are taught from a young age to “be strong,” “move on,” or “stay positive.” Rarely are we taught how to be with pain. It is also rare that we are taught how to honor it, tend to it, and allow it to teach us something meaningful about ourselves.
Over time, my academic path in Denver Colorado became interwoven with a deeper personal calling to become a therapist specializing in grief and loss. I wanted to create space where grief could exist without judgment or urgency. Grief is not a problem to solve or an illness to cure.
Grief is a human response to love and attachment. We grieve because we loved. And love deserves to be honored, even when it hurts.
As I trained and gained clinical experience in Colorado including volunteering at a hospice and shelter for those transitioning into housing, grief kept showing up — not just in death loss, but in many forms including estrangement, illness, job loss, infertility, displacement, unmet dreams, identity shifts, and the quiet grief of what might have been. In my work as a therapist, I supported adults navigating bereavement, traumatic loss, pet loss, and the emotional impact of life changes that can feel overwhelming or isolating.I learned that grief permeates far more of the human experience than most people realize. Yet our culture rarely equips us to navigate it.
Finding My Niche
While working with various populations and issues early in my career, I felt most alive and also at peace, when I was sitting with people who were grieving. I felt grounded in the sacredness of that work. I felt a sense of honor and privilege of witnessing a person’s most tender stories, the moments where someone speaks a loved one’s name aloud after feeling unseen for months or years. What resonated with me was the slow, relational process of helping people integrate loss into their lives, not moving on from it, but learning how to carry it differently. Grief became my niche because it was deeply meaningful.
Over the past twenty years as a therapist in Colorado, my work has evolved into a blend of evidence-based grief therapy approaches, including EMDR and CBT, trauma-informed care, expressive arts, somatic awareness, and spiritual exploration. I am drawn to approaches that honor the whole person — mind, body, heart, and spirit — because grief is not just a cognitive experience. It lives in the tissues of the body, the breath, the dreams, the memories, and the nervous system. Healing does not happen solely inside the head — it happens through story, ritual, creativity, connection, and compassion.
My work in Westminster Colorado extends to all forms of grief counseling including human loss, pet loss, anticipatory grief, ambiguous grief, and the shadows of trauma that surface years after losses were lived silently. I am honored to support people throughout Colorado who are navigating deaths of parents, spouses, children, siblings, friends, pets, and Losses that reshape entire identities and family systems.
I often see how grief invites people into deeper self-compassion, greater boundaries, new relationships, and an expanded understanding of love. Healing does not mean forgetting — it means remembering with less pain and more peace. In my therapy practice in Westminster Colorado, I endeavor to normalize grief while offering tools for resilience, emotional regulation, and meaning making. I also try to add a little humor, when possible, as laughter truly does help us heal.
After two decades of working in mental health in Colorado, my “why” is clear. I do this work because I believe grief deserves tenderness, and no one should have to mourn alone. I do this work because being present with another human being in their pain is one of life’s greatest gifts. Grief teaches us that love is not temporary, only physical presence is. The bonds we form continue beyond death, though they transform. My role as a grief counselor and therapist based in Westminster Colorado is not to sever those ties, but to help people reshape them in ways that bring comfort rather than suffering. I guide people as they learn to speak their loved one’s name while staying centered and grounded; Create rituals to honor continuing bonds; Reclaim moments of joy without guilt; Set boundaries with people who minimize their loss; and Integrate grief into the living of their lives rather than feeling weighed down by it. I step into each therapy session aware of the incredible trust clients place in me when they share their stories. Every day, I am reminded how resilient humans are. Not because they avoid pain, but because they face it. I believe healing happens when our stories are heard, when our emotions are validated, and when someone remains present with us while we find our footing again. I aim to be that steady witness and guide for those walking through their darkest seasons. Grief does not end, but the way it lives inside us can change.
If any part of this resonates and you’d like support, I’m here. A next step doesn’t have to be a big one. If you’d like a place to start, you’re welcome to reach out.