• Change is possible. Things can get better. Empathy. Compassion. Positive Change.

    Now accepting clients in person and online


    Life isn’t always easy, and that’s okay. Even the most resilient and capable individuals can face moments when life feels overwhelming. It’s not about strength or weakness; it’s about being human. We all experience challenges—whether from anxiety, depression, grief, or self-esteem struggles. These battles can feel isolating, but you don’t have to face them alone.

    Change is possible. Seeking help is not a sign of defeat, but of courage and strength. Everyone deserves a safe space filled with compassion and empathy to work through their thoughts, emotions, and experiences. Everyone deserves to feel supported and understood.

    The truth is, you don’t have to carry the burden on your own. Whether you’re navigating the complexities of relationships, managing stress, overcoming trauma, or searching for balance, there is always hope for positive change. Healing and growth are possible. The path may not always be clear, but you don’t have to walk it alone.

    If you’re feeling stuck, lost, or simply need someone to talk to, reach out. Things can get better. You have the power to change your life, and it begins with a single decision. I’m here to listen, guide, and help you discover the tools to build a brighter, more fulfilling tomorrow.

    Don’t wait for things to improve on their own. Change is possible, and things can get better. Contact me today, and together, we’ll take the first step toward a new chapter—a chapter filled with hope, healing, and the promise of a better tomorrow.

    About Matt Meyer

    I’m not the kind of therapist who has everything figured out—and that’s part of what makes this work meaningful to me.
    I’ve been a therapist for over 15 years. Along the way, I’ve walked with people through trauma, grief, fear, and the quiet ache of wondering if things will ever really change. I’ve known those places myself. I’ve clawed my way through despair, wrestled with faith, struggled in marriage, and parented imperfectly. I’m still figuring things out—about life, about meaning, about what I’m capable of after surviving the hardest year of my own.
    What I offer is presence. Not always answers, not polished techniques—but real presence. I believe that matters.
    I work best with people who are insightful, honest, and willing to do the work. Many of my clients are emotionally intelligent and deeply reflective. They’re not necessarily looking for trauma “interventions”—they just want a place where they can tell the truth and not be rushed or fixed.
    My style is warm, grounded, and curious. Curiosity, to me, is a form of care. I pay attention to the parts of you that are hurting—and the parts that still hope, still play, still long for lightness.
    I’ve practiced mindfulness personally for several years, and I appreciate elements of IFS and DBT, though I don’t rely on one particular model. I’m a Christian, but I also struggle with faith—and I make space for others to wrestle, too.
    In our work, I’ll walk with you at your pace. I’ll notice what’s going well, gently name what’s getting in the way, and invite you into a relationship with yourself that’s more honest, spacious, and whole.
    If you’re looking for someone who won’t shrink from your pain, but who also sees your strength, your resilience, and your potential for joy—I’d be honored to work with you.

    Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain,
    but it is more common and also more hard to bear.
    The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden:
    it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”

    – C.S. Lewis