A separation — whether it’s the slow unraveling of a long partnership or the sharp rupture of an unexpected ending — lives in the whole body. You may notice it before you have language for it: a tightness in the chest, a fluttering stomach, sleep that won’t come, or a strange flatness where feelings used to be. This is not weakness, and it’s not pathology. It’s a nervous system responding to one of the most significant losses a person can move through. Therapy here is not about “getting over it” on a timeline. It’s about helping your body settle, helping your story make sense, and helping you find your way back to yourself.

What it can feel like, even when no one sees it

Clients often arrive here saying some version of: “I thought I’d be further along by now.” “My body feels like it’s running an engine I can’t turn off.” “Some days I’m relieved, and that scares me.” “I don’t recognize the version of myself I became inside that relationship.” “Everyone keeps asking how I am, and I have no idea what to say.” “I’m holding it together for the kids and falling apart everywhere else.” Whatever your version of this is, you are welcome here.

A three-strand approach

In my work with people moving through separation, I weave together three approaches — adjusted to where you are and what your body is asking for.

First, somatic work — soothing the nervous system. Long after a relationship ends, the body can keep the relationship’s stress patterns alive: braced shoulders, shallow breath, scanning for cues that aren’t there anymore. We use gentle somatic practices — breath, grounding, orienting, body-tracking — to help your nervous system learn that the storm is, in fact, passing.

Second, expressive arts — for what words can’t yet hold. Some grief lives below language. Sandtray, drawing, movement, or other expressive modalities can give a shape to what is otherwise too big, too tender, or too tangled to put into sentences. Many clients are surprised by how much relief comes from working through, rather than only talking about, what they’re carrying.

Third, narrative therapy — making meaning of the chapter that just closed. Separation rewrites your story. Narrative therapy invites you to take an active role in that rewriting: not to bury what happened, but to find your way of telling it that honors both the love and the losses, both who you were and who you are becoming. This is meaning-making work, and it is some of the most resilience-building work I know.

Who this work is for

I work with adults navigating many forms of separation: recent breakups, including long-term relationships that didn’t culminate in marriage; divorce — in process or already finalized; conscious uncoupling and amicable separations that still hurt; LGBTQ+ separations, including the specific grief of losing community alongside a partner; cross-cultural relationships ending, where family, culture, or immigration add additional layers; separations involving co-parenting, where space to grieve as an individual is rare.

My approach

I’m a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist (LMFT) based in East Sacramento, with 15+ years of clinical experience and advanced training in expressive arts and drama therapy. After several years of private practice in San Francisco’s Mission District, I now offer secure virtual sessions to clients throughout California. I work psychodynamically and somatically, with deep respect for the body’s wisdom and your own pace.

A personal note

I have walked through a separation of my own. The experience taught me something I hadn’t fully understood from clinical training alone — that even with the right tools and language, the body still has to grieve at its own pace, and the story still has to be re-written one chapter at a time. The need for thoughtful, embodied support through separation is real. That insight is part of what shaped this offering, and part of why it would be a privilege to sit with you in it.

Frequently asked questions

How long does therapy for a separation usually last? There is no single answer. Some clients work with me for a few months to move through an acute phase. Others stay for a year or longer to do deeper meaning-making work. We’ll check in regularly about how you’re experiencing the work and what you need.

Do I need to know what I want — to reconcile, to move on, to date again — before I start? Not at all. In fact, one of the things therapy can help with is letting clarity emerge rather than forcing it. Many people arrive in the in-between and leave with a clearer sense of what they want.

I’m not crying or visibly grieving — am I doing this wrong? No. Grief takes many shapes — numbness, busyness, anger, relief, restlessness, anxiety. Somatic and expressive approaches are especially helpful when the more familiar markers of grief aren’t present.

Can I bring my ex into a session? This page is about individual work, but I also offer couples therapy and can support couples wanting to separate with care. Reach out if you’d like to talk about what makes sense.

How does virtual therapy actually work for grief? I’ve found that the privacy of being in your own space — your own couch, your own light, your own tissues nearby — actually deepens this kind of work for many clients. We meet on a secure, HIPAA-compliant video platform. Sessions in Sacramento, the Bay Area, Los Angeles, or anywhere else in California are all welcomed.

Your body and your story both deserve care.

If you’re moving through a separation and want a place to land, I’d love to hear from you. Reach out for a free 15-minute consultation.