Thomas Harper, LMSW

Hey beautiful humans! I’m Thomas. I’m so glad you’re here! Here on this page, and also, here in this world.

Sometimes, vulnerability isn’t telling another person about your traumas–vulnerability can be getting a glimpse of how other people see you, especially when their perception doesn’t match how you see yourself.  This experience can be exquisitely painful for anybody. For those of us who grew up neurodivergent, feeling out of sync with other people’s expectations and unspoken rules, the pain is amplified. Throw in the perfectionism of a high-demand religious environment or layer some internalized queerphobia underneath, and seeing your shortcomings (or even just your characteristics) through someone else’s eyes can feel like someone is grinding their boot down on a raw nerve.

No one should have to live that way. No one (including you) should have to go without the benefit of being fully seen, respected, and accepted by their loved ones–warts and all. I get a lot of joy from supporting folks who need a consistently compassionate reflection-glass to start seeing themselves a little more lovingly. This can become a foundation for satisfying habits and relationships: the belonging you yearn for.

Did I mention habits? It turns out that when vulnerability = profound pain, it can get sort of impossible to accomplish. . . almost anything. It’s vulnerable to want things; vulnerable to go after things, to let yourself dream. When you’ve been in so much pain for so long, you can get burned out on wanting anything at all. That makes it hard–not just to build a career, write The Great American Novel or find the love(s) of your life, but also to do the dishes or brush your teeth. I know what it’s like to live in the tension between intense desire to act, and a paralysis that you can’t explain. It’s so confusing! And exhausting. And painful. And isolating, because how can you explain that you really, really, REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted to do the thing when you can’t peel yourself off the couch?  You might struggle with the question: Who would believe you?

Gentle readers, I believe you. 

I believe you and I hope that if my style of therapy: compassionate, evidence-based, and practical–seems like it might be right for you, you'll reach out. I believe this so hard: the world needs what you have to offer.

Let's discover it together.