My Story
“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.”
— Jon Kabat-Zinn
My Story
In 2002, I started my first internship at Paradise Community Counseling Center. It was the beginning of relationships and mentorships that still matter to me today. Over the next eight years, I built my foundation working with youth and families across a range of settings. I helped start a special education classroom where behavior often came before academics. It was challenging, creative, and meaningful work. I wrote poetry with incredibly talented teens—we even published a book together. I learned about family systems therapy, addiction, and the quiet ways people carry pain—and heal.
In 2010, I moved to San Francisco and began working with victims of violent crime at the District Attorney’s Office. It was intense, purposeful work. I wore a tie, walked to the office, and spent my days supporting people through some of the hardest moments of their lives. I also had a golden retriever named Faber by my side—trained to provide comfort to children who had experienced trauma. Somewhere in that building, on the second floor, I met my wife who was working as a paralegal in the Domestic Violence Unit. We started a family and eventually made our way to Benicia.
In 2015, I began facilitating a domestic violence offender group in the evenings. That work deepened my understanding of accountability, relationships, and the complexity of change. It was honest, humbling work—and it made me a better therapist and a better man.
By 2017, I found myself working as a mental health therapist at San Quentin State Prison. I felt a sense of belonging there sooner than I expected, alongside a group of thoughtful, committed clinicians. I led a creative writing group for condemned inmates, where we exchanged letters with a college class studying psychology and criminal justice. I also found myself sketching alongside the men during the day and painting at night after my family went to sleep. Around that time, my second son was born, and I began to lean more intentionally into mindfulness—learning from teachers like Jon Kabat-Zinn, Thich Nhat Hanh, and Sam Harris. That shift helped me slow down and stay present in both my work and my life.
Over time, the cumulative exposure to trauma and violence began to take its toll. In 2021, I knew it was time to create something different—something sustainable, grounded, and more personal. I started Good Life Therapy in Benicia.
And yes… I bought a gnome.
Today, my work is shaped by all of it—the intensity, the humor, the relationships, the lessons, and the belief that people can change when they feel understood and supported. I bring that into every session.
I grew up in the 80’s in a house that had a lot of energy and a strong sense of direction. My mom somehow balanced full-time work with the presence and intensity of a prizefighter. My dad working late nights as a police officer in the city, while my brother and I spent most of our time testing limits and toughening each other up. It was a lively, grounded, sometimes chaotic foundation—and it shaped how I understand resilience and family to this day.
High school in the 90’s felt fast and, at times, lonely. I had a sense of who I was, but I wasn’t always sure where I fit. I found my footing in music—live shows, late nights, and a scene that was equal parts connection and distraction. Like a lot of people, I grew up by making a few grown-up mistakes before I was fully ready.
I took the scenic route through college, and along the way something shifted. Around the turn of the millennium, I began working in a group home for boys with significant behavioral challenges. Many of them had experienced deep loss and instability. At night, I’d read stories and tuck them in—small moments that carried a lot of weight. That experience stayed with me. It changed my direction and gave me a sense of purpose: I wanted to understand suffering and help people find their way through it.