Growing a Practice, Growing Myself
After a full year of not leading any music therapy sessions, I stepped back into the work recently - and something in me feels alive again.
This isn’t an announcement that I’m reopening my caseload, but it is an honest acknowledgment that I’ve missed this work more than I realized. I’ve taken on a new weekly client, and returning to that clinical rhythm reminded me how much I value the space, the process, and the relationships at the heart of music therapy.
Stepping away broke a pattern I didn’t even know I was in.
When you’ve supported clients for five, ten, sometimes fifteen years, it becomes hard to see your own growth within the routine. Time and distance gave me perspective, and I’ve been sitting with a lot of gratitude for the families and individuals who shaped my career over the years. The break helped me feel that gratitude more clearly.
Last week, I also subbed in our Sprouts early childhood classes and led our Generations in Harmony group at Thome PACE. Making music with little ones came right back, effortless and grounding. December adds its own charm - jingle bells, fun holiday themed songs, tiny hands on drums. That kind of music-making reconnects me to the simple joy that drew me into this field in the first place.
Over the past two years, I intentionally stepped away from our physical office.
This summer I dissolved my personal office entirely so we could create another treatment room and a dedicated telehealth space, shifting my own work to a downtown co-working environment. It was the right decision - therapy needed the space more than my shelves of memories did - and letting it go made room for new things to unfold.
What people rarely talk about is how owning a private practice for nearly 20 years shapes your career differently than traditional clinical work. In that same span, friends and colleagues have changed jobs, moved across the country, or started completely new chapters. My chapter has stayed rooted here, building Harmony Garden, supporting a growing team, and creating more opportunities for music therapy across our community than I could ever provide on my own. With that comes an ongoing question of how a person continues to grow clinically when they’re the one holding the structure in place.
Maybe that’s why returning - slowly and intentionally - feels steady in a way I didn’t expect.
Not as a return to old routines, but as a reconnection to the part of music therapy that still feels meaningful and alive. Being back in the room, even one client at a time, has reminded me of exactly why this work matters to me and why it always has.
