My Philosophy of Healing

Healing is not something that can be rushed.

With every person I treat, I resist the urge to immediately reach for medication. My first priority is to understand you — not just your symptoms, but the context of your life, your stressors, your strengths, and the challenges you face outside our sessions.

Mental health care is uniquely difficult because I only see you for brief moments, while your real life unfolds far beyond the clinic — often in ways that are hard to put into words, or even fully recognize yourself. Because of this, I believe thoughtful, careful assessment matters more than quick solutions.

There is no single, generic version of “depression” or “anxiety.” What you experience is often a state of imbalance, and together we work to understand what that imbalance represents before assigning it a label. Medication can be helpful for some people, but it is not always the answer — and too often, symptoms are treated pharmacologically when the deeper issue lies in patterns, habits, boundaries, or life circumstances that need attention.

My approach emphasizes curiosity, collaboration, and respect for the complexity of each individual. When medication is used, it is done deliberately, conservatively, and as part of a broader plan that supports long-term healing rather than short-term relief alone.

My Path to Healing

I am a deeply spiritual person. My understanding of healing is rooted not only in clinical training, but in the life I have lived. I grew up in the Soviet Union, where atheism was promoted as the mainstream worldview. When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, I was around eleven years old. What followed was not freedom in the romantic sense, but the collapse of all systems—economic, social, moral, and legal. In Ukraine, alongside this collapse, there was a revival of the Eastern Orthodox Church, the traditional historical faith of the region. For many people, including myself, belief in a Higher Power became a source of orientation when everything else disappeared. There is a saying among people from post-Soviet countries: “I survived the 90s.” It is not said lightly. Poverty was a way of life. Violence and murder touched many families I knew—often senseless, unexplained, and unpunished. I witnessed young girls and women selling their bodies to support their families. Sex traffickers were everywhere, and I was personally approached almost daily with offers to “join a modeling agency” or “work as a hostess abroad.” Basic necessities were scarce. I did not know my actual clothing size until I came to the United States in my early twenties because I wore my mother’s clothes or other hand-me-downs. Parents in rural areas placed their children alone on trains to Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, hoping someone would take them in and feed them. Many parents had not received salaries for six months or more and were paid instead in goods they produced—such as toy factory workers being paid in toys, which they then tried to sell along highways.

During that time, I sensed the presence and guidance of a Higher Power. That inner guidance shaped my decisions. It kept me from using drugs to escape reality or from selling my body to obtain anything beyond basic food and clothing. Spirituality was not abstract—it was a daily moral anchor. I came to the United States at age twenty-one, already holding a master’s degree in philosophy and political science. I was accepted into a PhD program in philosophy but chose to give that path up in order to marry. The years that followed were difficult. As an immigrant, I spent two years as a housewife waiting for a green card and work authorization. During that period, I rediscovered myself through classical ballet, becoming a dancer and teacher. During the economic hardship of 2010–2012, I chose nursing for practical survival reasons and completed an accelerated Bachelor of Nursing program. I worked as a Registered Nurse in both psychiatric and medical settings and later pursued a Doctorate as a Nurse Practitioner. What I did not anticipate was that nursing would become my life’s passion. It allowed me to integrate philosophy, meaning, discipline, compassion, and service into one profession.

While pursuing my doctoral degree, I joined the United States Air Force to assist with student loan repayment and served for four years, separating in 2023. My service further deepened my understanding of responsibility, structure, and ethical care under pressure. When the war in Ukraine broke out in 2022, I organized the rescue of my disabled mother with the assistance of my husband, who traveled to Poland to bring her to the United States. At the time, I was on active duty and was not permitted to leave the country. The military did not provide assistance in this rescue; I created the plan and carried it out independently. Our story was later featured in the San Francisco Chronicle and other outlets. Some viewers assumed the Air Force had facilitated the rescue because I appeared in uniform during regulated interviews. I also encountered ignorant and hostile commentary about immigrants—experiences that further clarified for me the importance of dignity, truth, and moral clarity. After separating from the Air Force, I worked at Mindful Health Solutions, where I was trained in Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) for the treatment of depression and OCD. This role served as an important transition from caring for active-duty military personnel to working with a civilian population. By 2026, I recognized that I had outgrown working for someone else. I had developed my own way of understanding patients and healing—one that integrates psychiatry, philosophy, spirituality, and, in the future, elements of Traditional Chinese Medicine. In my practice, spirituality does not mean imposing belief. It means recognizing that human beings are not only biological systems, but moral and meaning-seeking beings. Psychological suffering often reflects a loss of inner alignment, safety, or purpose. I respect each patient’s belief system, culture, and values. My role is to meet you where you are and support healing in a way that honors the whole person—mind, body, and spirit.