Let’s nurture our nature.

The idea to offer learning therapy came to me after realizing that many of the people I already work with—mostly women—are psychologists, social workers, and other caregivers.

I love these encounters. They allow me to support something deeply human yet often overlooked: attuning to what the person in front of you truly needs. Giving. Supporting. Questioning. Deepening. Soothing. Pushing. All of it.

Togetherness is easy to forget in a culture that prizes individualism. Communities that once created belonging—churches, schools, clubs, villages—are fading, leaving caregivers under growing pressure. The mental health field is stretched thin, with waiting lists becoming the norm. And while I work within this system, I don’t believe everything should be “therapized.” Caregivers are not broken when they burn out—they lack a system that allows them to receive as well as give. To keep a healthy balance.

I believe we need to remember. To return to something more natural: not individualizing mental health, but normalizing the human need for connection. Letting community spread like an ink stain—quietly but powerfully—until it restores belonging and purpose.

This is why I began offering Gestalt learning therapy: a practice grounded in connection, community, and support.

In groups and individual sessions, the focus is not only on introspection but on nurturing the soil we all need to root ourselves in: authentic connection, embodiment, existential agency, and shared experience. Connection, to me, is not just talking about struggles—it is support for our being. For how we live, how we show up with others, and how we weave back the broken threads of collective life. Human relating is both simple and easy to miss. It asks us to stay centered and nourished ourselves. In learning therapy, that nourishment looks different for everyone, shaped by your learning style and the web of identities you carry.

At its heart, learning therapy offers a space to slow down and arrive in the present moment. Daily life rarely gives us this pause, yet everything we experience shapes how we show up in the therapy room. In Gestalt, we call this the “id of the situation”—the subtle beginnings of what is unfolding, long before we name it. If we don’t bring awareness to what is alive in us, it will still guide our actions. And for our clients, too, much of what unfolds is co-created by us.

This is what makes Gestalt feel so alive: it doesn’t reduce experience to rigid frames or diagnoses. It invites us to see the whole field—the co-created situation, the relationship between you and me, and the wider world we live in. Even classical psychopathologies, the ones listed in the DSM, are not simply “illnesses,” but expressions of the whole. From this perspective, learning therapy becomes a richer, wider experience—one that sees you not only as a professional role, but as a whole person moving within a living field.

My hope is to create spaces where caregivers feel seen, supported, and strengthened—not only for the work they do, but for who they are. Because when you are nourished, the people you care for are nourished too. And perhaps, little by little, this kind of connection can help us grow back the missing limbs of community and belonging we all need.