Welcome. If you've found your way here, something in your life may feel uncertain, unsteady, or in transition. Perhaps you're grieving, creatively blocked, struggling in your relationship, or simply searching for more clarity and connection. Whatever brought you here, I'm glad you arrived.

I'm a psychoanalytic psychotherapist based in Los Angeles, and for over thirty years, I've worked with individuals and couples to explore the deeper layers of their emotional lives. My approach is rooted in British Object Relations theory, which emphasizes how our earliest relationships shape the way we love, struggle, create, and relate to the world around us.

In my work, I focus not just on symptoms, but on meaning. Together, we look beneath the surface — at dreams, unconscious patterns, language, and the therapeutic relationship itself. The work is often quiet, intimate, and deeply transformative. It's not about quick fixes or surface-level solutions. It's about listening closely to what wants to be heard, even when it arrives in a whisper.

This blog is an extension of that practice. A place to reflect on what it means to be human — to grieve, to become, to lose and reconnect, to feel stuck, to create, to love. You'll find writing on grief and loss, creative process, parenthood, and reflections on the therapy space itself. My hope is that these posts feel like a companion to your own internal work, whether you are in therapy or simply thinking about beginning.

If you're seeking psychotherapy in Los Angeles, or are curious about psychoanalysis and how it might support you, I invite you to reach out. There is power in slowing down, in turning inward, and in exploring your story with care and attention.

Free association is one of the most enduring and essential tools in psychoanalytic therapy. At its core, it's an invitation to speak freely — without judgment, censorship, or pretense. It asks us to follow the thread of our thoughts, no matter how disjointed, uncomfortable, or seemingly irrelevant they may feel.

More than a technique, free association is a stance. A way of being with oneself. It helps us listen inwardly and bring to light what's been buried, obscured, or left unspoken.

More than a hundred years ago, Sigmund Freud — often regarded as the father of psychoanalysis — described free association as the fundamental rule of psychoanalysis. He observed that when patients were encouraged to speak without filtering or editing their words, previously unconscious thoughts, memories, and feelings would rise to the surface. These seemingly random associations could, over time, reveal underlying emotional patterns and internal conflicts.

Today, free association remains central to psychoanalytic work. But that doesn't mean it's easy. In fact, it's often deceptively difficult to say exactly what's on our mind without trying to tidy it up. We've been taught to be polite, appropriate, clear. We monitor what we say, not only to others but also to ourselves.

This internal editing — the voice that says "Don't say that," or "That doesn't make sense" — can be protective. But it can also cut us off from parts of ourselves that need care, curiosity, and expression.

In therapy, we begin to notice these moments. We track where the mind goes quiet, where you pause, where certain feelings or thoughts are avoided. We make space to listen again. Not for the perfect answer, but for the deeper emotional truth that lives beneath it.

Free association also often includes dream work — another powerful entryway into the unconscious. Together, we tend to what emerges in the in-between: in image, silence, metaphor, and memory.

Over time, this process fosters something essential: a deepened trust in yourself. The more freely you can associate, the more familiar you become with the contours of your inner life. Eventually, this becomes a practice you can carry with you beyond our work — a way of moving through the world that is more attuned, more spacious, and more connected to who you are.

Psychoanalysis is often misunderstood as sterile or overly intellectual, but in truth, it's deeply aesthetic. Not aesthetic in the sense of decoration, but in the way it honors complexity, depth, and emotional nuance. It's about listening for rhythm, metaphor, and meaning — the same way one might experience a poem or a painting.

In the analytic space, silence matters. Symbols carry weight. The unconscious speaks in fragments, images, dreams, and gestures. And when we attend to that language — when we give it room to unfold — we often find something beautiful beneath the surface.

A beautiful session is not a tidy one. It might be raw, messy, unfinished. But it's one where something real is touched, where something previously unspoken is given form.

This aesthetic dimension is not just theoretical. It has real consequences. When clients feel deeply seen — not just for what they say, but how they feel — it fosters healing, integration, and deeper self-understanding.

If you're drawn to depth, art, and emotional richness, psychoanalytic therapy may feel like a familiar kind of language. One that welcomes your whole self — even the parts that don't yet have words.

Have you ever found yourself spiraling after a delayed reply, a distant look, or a partner turning inward? These moments can trigger disproportionate fear or sadness — not because of the moment itself, but because of what it evokes.

Object constancy is the emotional capacity to hold onto a sense of connection, safety, and love, even when someone isn't physically present or emotionally attuned. It's something we develop in early childhood through consistent caregiving, and it plays a central role in how we navigate intimacy as adults.

In therapy, we explore how disruptions in early attachment relationships may have shaped our capacity for emotional steadiness. We look at why absence can feel like abandonment, or why conflict feels like collapse. This isn't about blame — it's about understanding. About recognizing how your emotional system was built, and gently beginning to update it.

Psychoanalytic work allows us to examine these patterns over time and in relationship. As trust builds, so too does the capacity to regulate and hold onto connection, even when it's strained. This is not about becoming invulnerable — it's about becoming resilient.

If you struggle with insecurity or reactivity in relationships, therapy can offer a steady space to begin again.

You can adore your child and still feel overwhelmed. You can crave solitude and still be a devoted parent. These truths don't cancel each other out — they coexist in the emotional reality of parenthood. And yet, many parents feel guilt or shame for holding such conflicting feelings.

In my practice, I work with parents to unpack the layers beneath these tensions. We trace the origin of guilt and consider what it might be defending against: fear of inadequacy, echoes of our own childhood, societal expectations of "perfect parenting." Ambivalence is not a failure — it's human. And in psychoanalytic therapy, we make space for the whole picture.

This work offers a place to reflect on your experience without judgment. We look at the emotional history you bring into parenting, the unconscious patterns that shape your caregiving, and the internal pressures you carry. By allowing space for what feels hard to say aloud, we can uncover more room for self-compassion — and, ultimately, for connection.

If you're a parent in Los Angeles feeling conflicted, depleted, or simply in need of a space to think and feel, therapy can be a powerful resource. Your feelings are welcome here.