Amanda Hunsberger

Some people come to therapy with all the right words. Others come with feelings that don’t have language yet. Just tension in the body, tangled thoughts, or a sense that something has shifted and life no longer fits the way it used to. Those are the people I tend to connect with most.

My work often begins in the quiet places. Places where grief is unnamed, where anxiety shows up as overwhelm or shutdown, and where teens feel misunderstood or resistant to being “figured out.” I have a particular affection for the kids and adults who are a little intense, a little guarded, or creatively wired. The ones who do not always thrive in purely talk-based spaces but come alive when given room to move, create, or express themselves differently.

Long before I became a therapist, I was trained as an engineer. I learned how systems work, how problems are solved, and how structure creates stability. Later, life led me into hospice work and grief groups for women navigating reproductive loss. Sitting with people at the most tender edges of life reshaped everything I understood about healing. It taught me that presence matters more than precision, and that some truths are discovered through image, story, and shared silence rather than explanation.

That understanding shapes how I work today. In the therapy room, you might find art supplies on the table, games within reach, or space to breathe, move, or sit quietly together. Creativity is not an add-on here. It is often the doorway. For teens especially, these moments can soften defenses and invite honesty in ways words alone cannot. For adults, they often unlock insight that has been waiting just beneath the surface.

Faith quietly informs my work as well. I often walk alongside Christians who want their values honored without being assumed or prescribed. People who are seeking integration rather than answers. I believe healing is not about being fixed. It is about being accompanied as you make meaning of loss, change, and growth.

If you are carrying grief that does not have a clear shape, navigating a season of transition, or parenting or being a teen who feels misunderstood, you do not have to arrive with clarity. We can begin where you are.

Outside the therapy space, I am most at home in the Pacific Northwest rain, tending my garden, swimming in lakes, making music, or playing board games with people I love. Creativity, connection, and curiosity are threads that run through both my life and my work.

If you are looking for a place where there is room for complexity, imagination, and care, I would be glad to meet you there.