Quitting My Solo Practice (But Not the Vision)

I didn't plan to close my solo practice. For a long time, I assumed I'd run Videri Counseling for the rest of my career. But the truth kept nudging me: it was time. Time to listen differently, to loosen what I'd built, and to trust that the work could continue in a new way.

Change rarely announces itself politely. It comes as a subtle knowing that something that once worked for me is starting to take more than it gives. That's how this felt.

I named and shaped Videri Counseling very intentionally. It was a container I built from scratch—a reflection of my values, my clinical vision, and my hope that therapy could be more than symptom management. In Latin, videri means “to be seen,” a fitting name for a practice rooted in presence and depth. It became a guiding word for how I wanted to work: offering clients a place to be witnessed.

Solo practice gave me real freedom. I learned how to witness more fully. I learned how to lead myself. I made mistakes and grew into them. I met parts of myself I might never have encountered in the safety of a group or institution. I refined my voice and stretched into the edges of what therapy can be, especially for clients recovering from religious trauma.

And then, gradually, I noticed the isolation.

That surprised me.

I had built what many therapists dream of: autonomy, flexibility, purpose. But the further I walked into that dream, the clearer it became—I don’t want to do this alone. What I want now is collaboration. A way of working that supports clinicians as whole people, not just the clients we serve.

Closing my practice asked me to look closely at what it had cost me to hold everything alone.

What Videri Taught Me

Running Videri Counseling solo meant wearing every hat: therapist, scheduler, marketer, accountant, supervisor of one. The pressure was real and clarifying. It forced me to reckon with how I lead, how I relate to structure, how I define success.

It also made clear what I no longer want to build.
I don’t want to constantly prove my credibility.
I don’t want to perform infinite capacity.
And I don't want work that costs me my own well-being to maintain.

What I want now is work that sustains everyone involved.

Remembering to Release

Letting go doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It means it did, and now it’s time to evolve.

Videri was the space I needed to learn my limits. And now I’m listening for the next iteration of the vision. I’ve joined TPC Integrative Psychotherapy & Pastoral Counseling, which may surprise you if you know anything about my background in religious trauma. What I found there wasn’t the theology I left behind. It was something else entirely: a community of clinicians who hold space for each other, not just their clients.

I'm more rooted than ever in this field. The shape is simply different now. And already, it’s more sustainable than anything I built alone.

If you're in your own version of this, I get it. It’s disorienting to walk away from something that looks “successful.” But growth doesn’t always mean scaling up. Sometimes it means saying: I’m grateful for this. And I’m done.

The chapter of Videri is closing, but the vision is still alive—and expanding.