Therapy for software engineers and tech leaders

Section On this page

Maybe the promotion came through and felt like nothing. You read the email, closed the laptop, and went back to the design review you were in. Maybe you rewrote a two-line Slack message to your skip-level four times before you sent it. Or you’re at dinner, nodding along, and drafting tomorrow’s design doc in your head. From the outside it looks like it’s going well, and you haven’t told anyone it doesn’t feel that way.

The people I see in tech

This page is for people who build software for a living, or lead the people who do, in Seattle, Redmond, Bellevue, Kirkland, and the rest of the Puget Sound. Software engineers at every level from SDE II to staff, principal, and distinguished. Engineering managers and tech leads. Product and program managers, directors, VPs of engineering, CTOs, and founders.

Many work at the large companies here, Amazon, Microsoft, Google, and Meta among them; others are at startups or between jobs. I know those pressures, and you won’t spend the first sessions explaining them.

Most are men in their thirties to fifties, and most are doing well by any outside measure. What brings them in is usually some mix of burnout, the sense of being a fraud, the fear of the next layoff, strain at home, and conversations that keep going sideways.

Burned out, and still shipping

Burnout in tech rarely looks like collapse. It looks like a calendar with no gaps, Slack open on your phone in bed, and a sprint that ends only so the next one can start. You still deliver. You feel nothing when you do, and the weekends stopped being long enough to recover a while ago.

We look at what’s driving the pace: the job, the team, or something in you that can’t let a thing be good enough. Then we work out what you can put down, and how to say so at work.

Waiting to be found out

Imposter syndrome in tech has a particular shape. The bar keeps moving, because each level asks for something different, and the thing you were good at stops being what you’re measured on. Senior is about your code. Staff is about influence you can’t point to in a diff. A promo packet asks you to argue for yourself in writing, and calibration happens in a room you’re not in.

So you overprepare, or you stay quiet in the design review because being wrong in front of people feels worse than being invisible. In therapy we look at where that bar came from, often somewhere well before this job, and how much of it you still agree with.

Layoff fears and golden handcuffs

Layoffs now arrive by email before the workday starts, and the survivors find out by checking who’s still in the channel. Even if you kept your job, you may be doing two people’s work and waiting for the next round. Add a return-to-office mandate and AI tools changing what the job is while you’re still doing it.

Then there’s the equity. The next vest is always a few months away, the house was bought on the assumption of it, and leaving would mean walking away from real money. Staying stops feeling like a choice. We work out what the money is buying you and what it’s costing, what you’d do if the next vest were already in, and how to live with the job until you decide.

Here, but not here

Your partner says you’re home but not there. You’re on the couch with your phone, still running the incident from this afternoon. The on-call week ate the weekend again. You’ve stopped bringing up work at dinner because it starts the same argument.

Usually it means two people have stopped hearing each other, and one of them is spending everything they have by six o’clock. You can start on your own. If you’d both like to be in the room, I’ll refer you to a couples counselor I trust and keep seeing you individually; couples therapy explains why. If the marriage is ending, therapy for men going through divorce covers that.

Hard conversations, at work and at home

The conversations that cause the most trouble usually have no right answer: telling a report their work isn’t there yet, pushing back on a director without sounding defensive, or telling your partner something you’ve been holding for months.

We work on those directly. Sometimes that means drafting the message in session, or rehearsing the conversation out loud. Then you have the conversation, and we look at what happened.

The first step is a 20-minute conversation about whether I can help. Request a consultation, and I’ll reply within one business day.

From writing the code to leading the people

The move from individual contributor to manager is a different job with the same badge. The work you were proud of turns into work you now have to give away, and a good day can end with nothing you built. People who move up fast often find themselves leading people they used to sit beside, and no one taught them how.

Some leaders I see are deciding whether to go back to the IC track. Some are executives who can’t say to anyone at work that they don’t know what they’re doing yet. Either way, we look at what you want from the role, and what it’s costing.

Who this isn’t for

I’m a therapist, not a career coach. If what you need is help with interviews, a resume, or negotiating an offer, a coach is a better use of your money. If focus, noise, or the energy that meetings take have always worked differently for you, therapy for neurodivergent adults may fit better.

How I work on it

I’m practical, and I’ll tell you when what you’ve said about work doesn’t square with what you’ve said about home. Most of what comes up at work involves someone, a manager, a report, or a partner, so we spend as much time on those people as on the work. Some sessions are planning for one meeting; others go back further. My approach has the longer version, and therapy for men covers more of the work I do with men outside of tech.

What changes

The doubt is usually still there, but you notice it and go ahead anyway. You send the message the first time. You can sit in a calibration week without it taking over your evenings, and your partner notices you’re in the room. The weekend is long enough again. Most people find they can do the job they have without bracing for the day it’s taken away, and decide about the next vest on purpose.

Questions people ask

Can I fit sessions around standups and on-call?

Usually, yes. Sessions are 45 minutes by video, so all you need is a private room and your laptop. My hours are Eastern, Tuesday through Thursday, so in Washington the day starts early and ends by mid-afternoon, and an early slot often lands before your first meeting. The exact times are on about me.

Will my employer or my insurer find out?

Your employer won’t. I don’t bill insurance, and nothing goes to your company. Your insurer only hears about it if you send them a superbill, the itemized receipt some plans reimburse, and that’s your choice; using your out-of-network benefits explains how it works.

Do you understand the tech industry?

Many of the people I see work in tech around Seattle and on the Eastside, often at the large companies here, and some at startups. You won’t have to explain a promo cycle, a reorg, or a vesting cliff. If you use a term I don’t know, I’ll ask.

Is this short-term or ongoing?

Either. Some people come for a particular stretch, like a first manager role, a layoff, or a decision about whether to leave, and stop when it’s settled. Others stay longer because the pattern turns out to be older than the job. We talk about which it is as we go.

Do you see women in tech?

Yes. Everything on this page applies, from the burnout to the vesting schedule.

I’m not in crisis. Is it worth it?

Most of the people I see in tech aren’t in crisis. They’re doing well by most measures, and something keeps costing them at work or at home. That’s a good time to start, because you have room to do something about it.

Other people I work with

• Therapy for men
• Divorce
• Co-parenting
• Neurodivergent adults
• Couples therapy