Why I Returned to Psychiatry (When I Didn’t Expect To)

For a long time, I didn’t think I would go back.

I had stepped away from psychiatry—intentionally, even decisively. Not because I stopped caring, but because I cared too much to keep practicing in a way that no longer felt true.

I had grown disenchanted with the standard medical model.
Tired of trying to fit complex, living, breathing human beings into diagnostic boxes that often said more about the system than the soul.
Tired of seeing medications offer short-term relief while the long-term picture remained uncertain, sometimes troubling.
Tired of working within layers of bureaucracy so thick that you could lose sight of the very reason you entered the field: to sit with another human being in their suffering and help them find a way through.

So I stepped away.

And in doing so, I took what felt like the road less traveled.

I explored other ways of knowing and healing—indigenous traditions, psychedelic-assisted work, embodiment practices, even the edges of sacred sexuality. I listened more deeply. I slowed down. I allowed my understanding of healing to expand beyond symptom reduction into something more whole, more mysterious, more human.

That departure was not a rejection.
It was a necessary divergence.

But something shifted in me over the past few months.

I began to see psychiatry differently.

Not as a rigid system I had to conform to—but as a tool.

And like any tool, it can be used skillfully… or not.

Fire can cook a nourishing meal.
Or it can burn a house down.

Psychiatry is no different.

Used unconsciously, it can reduce people to labels, over-rely on medication, and disconnect us from deeper layers of healing.
Used consciously, it can offer precision, support, and access to resources that might otherwise be unavailable.

I realized that I don’t have to practice psychiatry the way I was trained to.

I get to choose.

I can prescribe ketamine in a way that is integrated, relational, and attuned—supporting deep inner work rather than bypassing it.
I can help someone thoughtfully navigate medications when needed, minimizing harm and maximizing benefit.
I can advise on complementary approaches when someone wants to step outside conventional paths.
And I can just as importantly choose not to prescribe at all—offering therapy alone when that is what truly serves.

I don’t have to reduce someone to a diagnosis.
I don’t have to medicate when it isn’t indicated.
I don’t have to define healing in narrow terms.

These are all choices.

And I choose differently now.

I spent over 25 years in training because something in me felt called—not just to learn psychiatry, but to refine a capacity to see, to understand, and to serve.

That calling didn’t disappear.
It evolved.

Through the journeys I’ve taken—psychedelic and otherwise—I have become more whole. I see more clearly now. Not just pathology, but possibility. Not just wounds, but wisdom.

And from that place, I can meet another human being in their totality.

Not from above.
Not as an authority imposing answers.
But eye-to-eye, human-to-human.

I see you as complex.
As unique.
As sacred.

I see your light—and your darkness—and I honor both.

This is why I’ve returned to psychiatry.

Not as a limitation, but as an integration.

A reclaiming of a powerful tool—now guided by a deeper awareness of what healing can truly be.

If something in you is ready…

If you’ve tried approaches that haven’t quite reached the depth you’re seeking…
If you sense there are parts of yourself still waiting to be seen, understood, or integrated…
If you’re curious about a path that honors both science and soul…

I invite you to explore this work with me.

Whether that includes therapy alone, psychedelic-assisted work, or a carefully considered integration of psychiatric support, we will find the path that is most aligned for you.

You don’t have to fit into a box.

You don’t have to walk it alone.

You can begin here.