Giftedness is often misunderstood—seen only through the lens of academic achievement or intellectual capacity. But in my life and in my work, I’ve learned that giftedness is rarely tidy. It’s complex, intense, and frequently accompanied by anxiety, emotional overwhelm, asynchronous development, and a deep sensitivity to the world’s pain. For over three decades, I’ve walked alongside families raising gifted and twice-exceptional (2e) children. I’ve sat with their exhaustion, their confusion, their heartbreak—and their hope. And I’ve lived it myself, as a parent of three profoundly gifted, neurodivergent daughters. My professional journey is inseparable from my personal one. I didn’t set out to specialize in gifted mental health. I started my career in social work with a deep curiosity about human resilience and relationship. But parenting complex kids cracked me wide open. No textbook prepared me for what it felt like to raise children whose needs outpaced every system we tried. I saw firsthand how giftedness can mask struggles—and how traditional therapeutic models often miss the mark. My own parenting journey demanded that I become a different kind of therapist: one who listens below the surface, holds the whole family system, and understands that brilliance often rides shotgun with big, baffling behaviors. Today, I own and operate Welcome Home Family Therapy, a virtual practice serving families across California. My focus is supporting parents of neurodivergent children—especially those raising gifted, 2e, ADHD, autistic, or adopted children who don’t respond to conventional approaches. I help families shift from survival mode to connection mode. From rupture to repair. From shame to self-understanding. At the heart of my work is a deep respect for how the nervous system holds trauma, sensitivity, and gifted wiring. I integrate Polyvagal Theory, interpersonal neurobiology, and attachment-based family therapy to create spaces of co-regulation and safety. I teach parents to become the healers in their homes—not through perfection, but through presence. In working with gifted families, I’ve learned that behavioral strategies alone are not enough. These kids are exquisitely tuned in to their environments. They feel what’s unspoken. They sense adult dysregulation even when we’re trying to hide it. And they often need more than cognitive tools—they need parents who can meet them in their emotional world without fear. My work is both top-down and bottom-up. I support parents in understanding how their child’s brain works, but I also help them understand their own nervous systems—how their own histories of trauma or high achievement may be shaping their reactions. I often say, “Your child isn’t giving you a hard time—they’re having a hard time.” But I also help parents recognize when they’re the ones having a hard time, and give them permission to step back, regulate, and begin again. Being gifted is not a mental health diagnosis, but gifted individuals are at increased risk for misdiagnosis, perfectionism, anxiety, and social disconnection. I’m passionate about dismantling the myths that giftedness protects against struggle. It doesn’t. In fact, it can amplify it. Many of the families I serve have bounced from therapist to therapist, feeling like no one truly “gets” their child—or them. I do. Because I’ve lived it. And because I’ve spent my career building a clinical framework that honors both the pain and potential in these families. Working with gifted populations also requires holding the paradox: that a child can read at a college level but melt down over a sock seam. That a teen can build computers from scratch but be terrified to make a phone call. That a parent can be high-functioning in every area of life and still feel like a complete failure at home. My job is to normalize those contradictions and help families move from chronic stress to deep connection. This work matters to me because it is personal. I remember what it felt like to feel lost in the chaos of parenting kids who didn’t fit any mold. I remember the fear, the grief, and the desperate Google searches late at night. I also remember the moment I realized that connection—not correction—was the way through. I believe mental health support for gifted individuals must go beyond behavior management and academic pressure. It must include identity, sensory sensitivity, social-emotional complexity, and a safe place to land. That’s what I strive to provide every family who walks through my (virtual) door. Giftedness doesn’t need to be “fixed.” But gifted families do need support—compassionate, nuanced, brain-based support that sees the whole picture. That’s the work I do. And I do it with reverence, humility, and hard-won wisdom.