You manage everything: your inbox, your kid’s meltdowns, the weird tightness in your chest at 2 am. You’re exhausted from overfunctioning, overthinking, and over-apologizing. On paper, you look fine. Internally? Some parts of you are screaming, others are frozen, and you’re still expected to function like it’s any other Tuesday.
It’s not just stress. It’s smiling because you’re afraid of what might happen if you stop.
Maybe you’ve been hospitalized. Maybe you use substances to cope. Maybe your brain runs on brilliance, overwhelm, ADHD, and things you really hope no one finds in your browser history. Maybe you feel everything deeply and still wonder if you’re “too much” or “not enough.”
Spoiler alert: You’re neither. You’re just tired of pretending you’re okay. It’s time to let it out.
Imagine not flinching at your own thoughts. Imagine laughing… not because you’re masking, but because you feel safe enough to. Life without shame doesn’t mean perfection. It means freedom.
Relief is possible. (Even for you.)
Therapy can help you untangle the stuff that got knotted up over time: trauma, identity, substance use, mental health diagnosis, neurodivergence, parenting chaos… and shame. Life without shame might include:
Therapy with me is equal parts honest, irreverent, and deeply respectful. I use evidence-based approaches (IFS, DBT, harm reduction, psychodynamic, CBT) and lots of real talk. You get to bring the full mess. I’ll bring my full attention and a sense of humor sharp enough to cut through shame.
This isn’t about fixing you. It’s about freeing you.
You bring:
I bring:
Things you may have navigated that others don’t see:
Success doesn’t cancel out suffering.
You’re a functional adult™… as long as no one looks too closely. But behind that might be exhaustion, grief, rage, or just a need to talk about what’s actually happening. You need a space that honors all of it.
You drink, vape, smoke, or scroll to cope. You’ve been judged for it, maybe even pathologized. But you’re surviving. And surviving deserves context, not shame.
Abstinence is not the only “success.”
I work from a harm reduction lens. That means we start with what’s real, not what’s idealized. We make space for nuance, choice, and honesty. No lectures. No ultimatums. Just support for your goals, whatever they are.
You’re raising a brilliant, intense, possibly feral human. Neurodivergent. Gifted. Maybe both. And no one sees what it takes to hold it all together.
Checklist: This is for you if…
You don’t get a time-out just because your own mental health is calling for backup.
You’re holding a lot: your kid’s needs, your family’s chaos, maybe your own unraveling. There’s no pause button, and little space for you. Maybe parts of your kid’s story sound familiar. Maybe you’re grieving the help you realize you never got.
You’re not alone. I raised a wonderfully complex 2e neurodivergent kid and came out the other side. Now I help other parents make it through with their sanity (mostly) intact.
You’ve been told you’re “too much,” “too intense,” “too emotional.” You’ve tried to toughen up, tone it down, or grow a thicker skin. But what if your sensitivity is actually wisdom? What if your neurodivergence isn’t a flaw, but a different operating system?
You’re not dramatic. You’re responding to a loud world.
I work with highly sensitive and often neurodivergent adults: people who feel everything, notice everything, and try like hell to manage it all. Therapy can help you stop second-guessing yourself and start making room for your actual needs.
Hi, I’m Emy Zener (she/her). I’m a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW-R) with 25 years of experience. I’ve worked in community clinics, substance use programs, hospitals, and LGBTQ+ health centers. I’ve been with people during the chaos, the slow climb, and the days where all they could do was keep breathing.
I see the world through a creative lens.
From early on, I’ve been an artist: Dance, music, theatre, sculpting… all ways I’ve learned to tell the truth about being human. That creative lens shapes how I work. I use it to help clients explore their stories with curiosity, not judgment. I’m a highly sensitive person and a parent of a 2e kid. I won’t hand you shame. I’ll hold space for your truth.
Also: I love elephant jokes. I can’t get down the sidewalk without saying hello to every dog. I say “thank you” when called weird. And I’d love to skydive someday.
I bring my whole quirky, compassionate self to this work.
You don’t have to explain why your coping strategies might look weird to other people. I get “weird.” I’m here to help you untangle the shame from your story. We’ll do it together, with some humor, some real talk, and no woo-woo. (You don’t even have to wear real pants.)
