Intimacy isn’t just about closeness — it’s about what closeness stirs. The wish to merge, the fear of losing oneself, the longing to be seen, the impulse to hide. Relationships awaken the most tender and defended parts of us at once.

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Often, the very qualities that draw us to someone are the ones that later provoke our frustration or fear. We find ourselves repeating patterns we thought we’d outgrown — pursuing, withdrawing, rescuing, testing — caught between the wish to connect and the wish to stay safe.

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In therapy, we look beneath these familiar cycles to what they’re protecting: the old longings, the unspoken grief, the deep templates for love we carry from early life. Together we explore how you relate, what happens when you reach for someone, or when you pull away. We pay attention to how closeness feels in your body — the quickening, the shutdown, the hope, the retreat. Over time, these patterns begin to reveal the stories you’ve lived out again and again: how you try to be loved, how you protect yourself from need, how you recognize safety — or don’t.

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Therapy becomes a space to see these patterns with more curiosity and less judgment. It can also become a place to practice new ways of being in relationship — slower, braver, more alive to what’s really happening between you and others. And eventually, as trust grows, the relationship with your therapist becomes part of this exploration — a safe place to notice, in real time, how connection and distance unfold.

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The goal isn’t perfect harmony, but a more honest capacity for connection — to love without losing yourself, to stay present when it would be easier to retreat, and to let another person truly matter.