Join the Rebellion (JTR23 Inc) (He/Him)

I didn't come to this work through a straightforward path. Before I was a therapist, I was a U.S. Marine — trained to project strength, suppress what's underneath, and keep moving regardless of what I was carrying. That orientation served me in a lot of contexts. It also cost me things I didn't fully understand until later. When I transitioned out and eventually found my way into healthcare and then into clinical mental health work, I brought that background with me — not as a credential to display, but as a lived reference point. I know what it's like to operate in high-pressure environments where vulnerability is a liability. I know what it costs to perform competence while something quieter is going on underneath. And I know how unfamiliar it feels to sit across from someone and actually say what's true. That's the man I built my practice around. Not because it's a profitable niche — though it is — but because I understand him from the inside. The high-performer who has optimized everything in his life except his relationship with himself. The man who can hold a room but can't quiet the voice in his head. The man who takes meticulous care of everyone except himself. These aren't abstract client profiles to me. They're men I recognize. Over two decades in healthcare and eleven years in clinical practice have sharpened how I work, but the core of it hasn't changed: I believe most men are carrying more than they've ever said out loud, and that saying it — to the right person, in the right space — changes something fundamental. Not just symptom relief. Something deeper. A shift in how a man understands himself and what he believes he deserves. That's what I show up to do.