Hi, I'm Carissa Lataillade.

When I was a teen, my family was in a rollover accident. The car slid across five lanes. Miraculously, we didn’t hit anyone—and somehow, we were okay. I still remember the strangers who pulled over and stayed with us until help came. They didn’t have answers. They didn’t fix anything. They just stayed.

That’s the feeling I try to bring into the therapy room.
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Not bright and shiny. Not false promises. Just the quiet, steady presence of someone who won’t flinch at the hard parts.

A lot of the women I work with are in their 40s and 50s. They’re often the strong ones—the ones who keep it all going. But inside, something’s shifting. The kids are growing up. Parents are needing more. Hormones are throwing curveballs. They don't really recognize themselves anymore and ask: Where did I go in all of this?
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In therapy, we listen to the parts of you that are confused, quiet, or screaming. The goal isn't to make it all better right away—but to be with it, honestly, and to start making sense of what life actually is and should be like moving forward. If any of this feels familiar, you're not alone. If you’re ready to talk, I’m here.
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- Carissa Lataillade, LMFT‍