Sit back, grab a coffee, let me tell you the story of how I got here.
Raised in the Evangelical church, faith was the framework for everything — my identity, my community, my sense of what was true, where I would *go* if I did things wrong.
The deconstruction process is hard to describe to someone who hasn't been through it. It's not just losing a belief system. It's losing your people, your language, your sense of what's safe. It's grief and relief and disorientation, sometimes in the same afternoon.
Attending therapy in my mid-twenties was one of the most impactful things I've ever done. I've learned a LOT about myself since that first session. Trauma, religious trauma, anxiety, depression, shame, OCD, neurodivergence.
In many ways, therapy revealed to me who I really am and who I want to be.
Being trusted with someone's pain and grief and longing for healing isn’t something I take lightly. Others in the past held space for me, and now I’m honored to do the same for my clients.
Done being who everyone told you to be? Me too.
The kid who was taught he was only "good" because of his faith in Jesus is now helping people heal from religious trauma via his own private practice??
Before therapy, there was coffee.
During my undergraduate years at Arizona State University, I worked the opening shift at a local coffee shop. That meant showing up at 4am, getting the store ready before anyone else arrived.
One of my favorite tasks was to get the drip coffees brewed for our early bird customers— especially the dark roast.
In the quiet times, before the morning rush, I would sip on a fresh dark roast coffee and talk with my fellow baristas. About everything and nothing. Existential musings. Current events. Music. The simplicity of a delicious coffee.
Those mornings and conversations became known amongst the morning crew as "Dark Roast Therapy."
If coffee is your thing, I've always got a dark roast going. For my tea drinkers, I’ve got you covered too.
*of course.. no actual psychotherapy was taking place at this point*
Dark Roast Wellness is a tip of the cap to those early morning conversations that shaped the kind of therapist I wanted to become.
Curious. Human. Honest. Someone people could actually exhale around.
A cup of dark roast coffee feels therapeutic for me. It feels like a warm hug, a greeting to the day with new opportunities for change and growth. Seeing the steam rise from the cup, feeling the heat on my lips during the first sip, and allowing the taste to settle is one of my favorite ways to practice mindfulness and engage in my five senses.
I'm a huge Minnesota Vikings fan. There's a little helmet in my office. We don't have to talk about it.
Sound like your kind of therapist? Let's find out.
I love music from the 1960s — the counterculture, the psychedelic movement, all of it. If you know, you know.
I like to be real with my clients. I’ll probably show up to sessions in Vans. Burgundy pants if it's a good day. No tucked-in shirts, I stopped trying to follow what I thought a therapist was *supposed* to look like once I stopped living my life the way everyone told me I was *supposed* to be.
You might hear some cheesy one-liners from me. "This whiteboard moment is brought to you by Expo." I’m weird, you’re weird, we all have our quirks, let’s just accept it so we can get deep and real, and have FUN with it.
I'm Autistic and was diagnosed later in adulthood. Since I've started to explore my Autism, it has changed how I see a lot of things -- including how I show up for clients who are also Autistic/neurodivergent.
"Let's get curious about this" is something I say a lot in session. Curiosity is a non-threatening way to go deeper and for people coming out of environments where questions weren't welcome, it can feel genuinely revolutionary to have someone encourage them to ask more.
I value the humanity in the room first and foremost. Pathology has its place, but leading with someone's humanity builds the kind of rapport that makes the clinical work actually possible. You're a person first, and I want that to guide the clinical work we do.
I spent time early in my career trying to look the part. Dressed up, professional, performing therapist. It felt like masking. Now I show up as Brock, who is also a therapist. I can't ask clients to be authentic in the room if I'm not willing to be. So please, show up. AS YOURSELF.
Exposure therapy as a lifestyle. That's something I believe in personally, not just clinically. Doing the scary thing, sitting with the discomfort, moving forward anyway. I ask clients to do hard things. I try to make sure I'm doing them too.
I have a pretty strong sensitivity to when something's not right. When a system is causing harm, when someone's being told they're the problem when they're not. That shows up in how I work. I'll tell you when something that happened to you wasn't okay. Sometimes that's the most therapeutic thing I can offer.
I don't decide what feels safe for you. That's yours to determine. What I can do is make sure the room is a place where you get to move at your own pace, share what you're ready to share, and trust that I'm not going to push you somewhere you haven't chosen to go.
AND OK, BECAUSE I DO KNOW THIS STUFF IS IMPORTANT…