If you’re seeking psychotherapy in Greenpoint or Williamsburg and feel drawn to therapy that is relational, integrative, and meaning-centered, depth-oriented therapy may offer a powerful space for exploration and change.

To learn more about working with Transcendent Self Therapy, you’re welcome to explore our clinicians or schedule a consultation.

Therapy isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. At Transcendent Self Therapy, we hear variations of the same question all the time: “Am I ready for therapy?” or “How do I know this will make a difference?” These are deeply human, nuanced questions — and the answers aren’t always simple.

What follows is a thoughtful, grounded exploration of when to consider therapy, what therapists actually do, and what real emotional growth feels like — beyond clichés and checklists.

In much of modern mental health care, diagnosis has become the starting point. Clients are often asked, implicitly or explicitly: What’s wrong with you? What category do you fall into? What code applies?

At Transcendent Self Therapy, we take a different approach.

The holiday season amplifies everything that already pulls us away from ourselves.

There is more noise. More pressure. More consumption. More social obligations. More expectations—both internal and external. We are bombarded with messages telling us to buy more, do more, be more, and make everything perfect. Even rest becomes something to “schedule” or “earn.”

For many people, this time of year also brings complicated emotions: grief, loneliness, family tension, financial stress, or the quiet ache of unmet expectations. The cultural narrative insists that we should feel joyful and grateful, which can make these experiences feel isolating or shameful.

In this environment, mindfulness can feel almost impossible. Sitting still with your breath may seem trivial when your to-do list is screaming. Slowing down can feel unsafe when you’re used to staying busy to avoid difficult feelings.

And yet—this is often when mindfulness is needed most.

“…Disordered eating and body image distress rarely stem from vanity. Instead, they come from longing: longing to feel safe, to feel accepted, to feel in control, to feel seen. Many people learn—often through family, culture, or social norms—that their worth is tied to their appearance. And when this message is repeated over time, the body becomes a battleground.”

Neurodivergence is a word many people hear often but still struggle to define. It has become a cultural shorthand—sometimes a badge of identity, sometimes a source of confusion, sometimes a quiet whisper of “maybe this explains me.” But beneath the labels and the diagnostic terms lies something more human: a vast, varied landscape of minds, each shaped by its own rhythm, attention, sensitivity, and way of moving through the world.

At Transcendent Self Therapy, we see neurodivergence not as a binary—neurotypical or not—but as a spectrum of cognitive experiences that all people fall along. Humanity has never been uniform. Every person has strengths that shine and struggles that weigh them down; some simply cluster in patterns we’ve come to call neurodivergence.

“Therapy can be that kind of pause—a moment to observe, to regulate, to realign with ourselves amid the motion of life. Whether we’re moving with the current or against it, healing happens through awareness, connection, and courage to keep paddling forward—together.”

Dressing up can unlock aspects of the psyche that are often hidden in daily life. When we put on a costume, we invite permission—to explore archetypes, emotions, and identities we may have disowned or suppressed. In therapy, this process can help people connect with “split-off” parts of the self: the confident one, the sensual one, the fierce protector, the child who still wants to play. Costume Therapy allows these parts to be safely expressed, witnessed, and integrated.

There are times when the ordinary rhythm of therapy—a single session each week—doesn’t feel like enough. Pain presses in too closely, questions weigh too heavily, or change feels just out of reach. For those moments, we offer Intensive Treatment Sessions: extended spaces of time devoted wholly to you, where the usual boundaries of the therapy hour soften, and we can wander further into the heart of what you’re carrying.

Over the past few years, much of life has moved behind a screen. We work over Zoom, catch up with friends in text threads, and even get medical care through video appointments. While this shift has made some things more accessible, it has also left many people feeling disconnected, overstimulated, and strangely alone. It’s no surprise that so many of us are craving something more real—something grounded, embodied, and human.

Sometimes when a client is feeling stuck—or when I am perhaps feeling stuck with a client—I think about parts work. 

The term “parts work” comes from a modality of therapy called Internal Family Systems, or IFS.

By setting boundaries, engaging in meaningful discussions, taking action, prioritizing self-care, and seeking support, you can navigate turbulent times with resilience. Remember, maintaining your mental health isn’t just beneficial for you—it also enables you to be a more thoughtful and effective participant in the world around you.

A group member recently talked about weathering "storms of the heart", and I loved that image. In line with its metaphor, our DBT group tracks the emotional weather of the week and helps members batten down the hatches for impending rain.

I think back on how fundamentally my personhood feels changed since I was first forced to grieve, now over a decade ago. A couple weeks into navigating grief, I remember coming across a quote by Jamie Anderson: “Grief, I’ve learned, it really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. The more you loved someone, the more you grieve. Grief is just love with no place to go.” When I first read it, it hit me like a rock, even though it is so seemingly simple at its core. I think of the many lessons this misplaced love has taught me— and continues to teach me— as time inevitably passes.