How I got here
I started with relationships: who you are, who the other person is, what happens in the space between. From there, the lens kept widening: family, community, the full range of what people are capable of at their best and worst. What I found, eventually, was that all of it translated into something practical. A way of reading situations that had become instinct, backed by both emotional and intellectual grounding.
What drew me to this work, specifically, was a pattern I kept encountering: people in pain that didn't have a name yet. Loneliness. Self-isolation. A loss of self so gradual they couldn't point to where it started. The more I understood those patterns, the more my curiosity took over. Eventually, recognising them became second nature. Navigating people away from them became the work.
My work has taken me across communities I didn't grow up in. I've worked with LGBTQ+ individuals, with Black and Asian families, with people carrying inherited trauma they didn't have a name for. What showed up consistently was that the tools most people had been given weren't built for their actual lives. That's the gap I work in.
I'm Vietnamese-Canadian. I grew up navigating two different versions of what a good life looks like, and doing a lot of translation work that nobody counted as work. That experience is in the room with me when I sit with clients who are doing the same thing.
I also have ADHD. I grew up without anyone recognising it at all. By the time I understood what was happening, I had years of evidence that I was somehow just not trying hard enough. That history changes what it means to sit across from someone in the same position.
I love watching people get closer to a place they want to be. I see people at their worst sometimes, and it is an honour to celebrate what the world offers while giving real time to what's hard. That's the work. I haven't found a better one.
The only thing that changes between work and outside of it is pace. In session, I'm more deliberate in how I speak and how much space I hold for someone to think. Outside of it, I'm the same person. Same personality. Same colour. It's not a performance. Authenticity doesn't require putting on a different version of yourself.
- Background in psychology and relationships, expanded into family, community, and behaviour over time.
- Drawn to people experiencing unnamed pain: loneliness, self-isolation, a gradual loss of self.
- The tools most people were given weren't built for their actual lives. That's the gap he works in.
- Vietnamese-Canadian. Grew up doing translation work between two cultures. That experience comes into the room.
- Has ADHD. Grew up without it being recognised. Spent years thinking he wasn't trying hard enough. That history changes what it means to sit across from someone in the same position.
- Outside sessions: same personality, same person. No performance. Authenticity isn't a different version of yourself.