As a clinical social worker and psychotherapist, my work is rooted in the belief that individuals cannot be understood apart from the systems they live within. I look beneath behaviors to understand the emotions, needs, and vulnerabilities that drive them. My goal is to help clients and families build environments that support nervous system regulation, emotional safety, and meaningful, lasting change.

My background spans over a decade of experience supporting children, adolescents, and adults through trauma, neurodivergence, and major life transitions. During my undergraduate studies at Colorado State University, I completed a clinical placement at Blue Sky Bridge in Boulder, where I worked alongside children and families affected by abuse and complex trauma. Witnessing the impact of systemic and intergenerational trauma inspired me to pursue graduate studies at the University of Denver’s Graduate School of Social Work. Since then, my work has remained focused on inclusive systems, equity for disabilities, and amplifying voices that often feel misunderstood or overlooked.

I specialize in working with neurodivergent individuals and families navigating ADHD, autism, anxiety, and trauma-related challenges. As both a neurodivergent clinician and a parent raising a neurodivergent child, I bring personal insight into the realities of special education systems that frequently miss the mark on inclusion. I understand the emotional toll, burnout, and grief that can arise when supporting a child while managing one’s own trauma history and sensory needs. This lived experience informs my conviction that people need professionals who look beyond behavior to understand what it communicates—about safety, overwhelm, and unmet needs.

In practice, I collaborate closely with schools and multidisciplinary teams to create effective IEPs, 504 plans, and academic accommodations that promote accessibility and dignity. I also work extensively with families navigating divorce and high-conflict co-parenting, helping parents and children maintain connection, structure, and regulation during times of transition. I view each family as an interconnected system—when one member experiences change, the entire system is impacted. My role is to support families in strengthening communication, establishing healthy boundaries, and fostering environments that promote emotional wellbeing.

Clinically, I integrate play therapy, CBT, DBT, brainspotting, somatic modalities, and parts-based work, tailoring each session to meet the unique needs of the individual. I also facilitate DBT skills groups for teens and young adults, focusing on mindfulness, distress tolerance, and emotional regulation.

My practice is grounded in inclusivity, neurodiversity-affirming care, and systemic understanding. I believe therapy is not about “fixing” behavior but about uncovering what lies beneath it—helping individuals and families build self-awareness, connection, and sustainable healing within the systems that shape their lives.

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• Family systems

• Eating Disorders

• Neurodivergent Disorders

• Self Harm/Suicidal Ideations

• Anxiety

• Behavioral Therapy

• Coping Skills/Mindfulness Based Practice

• DBT

• CBT

• Divorce

• Trauma/PTSD

• Complex PTSD (childhood and adolescence)

• Master of Social Work - University of Denver

• Clinical Social Work Candidate, Colorado Department of Regulatory Agencies (SWC.0000000051)

• Registered Psychotherapist, Colorado Department of Regulatory Agencies (NLC.0107724)

• Registered Yoga Teacher (RYT-200)

• LinkedIn

• Instagram

• Psychology Today

Have you ever tried to follow a map that's written in a language different from yours, while navigating unfamiliar terrain? That's what parenting can feel like when you're a neurodivergent adult raising neurodivergent children. It's like we're both the translator and the traveler, trying to make sense of an uncharted ocean together.

I've found myself in this position many days - trying to support my children while also navigating my own neurodivergent experiences. Some days, I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water. Other days, there are moments of profound connection that neurotypical parents might never experience. It's messy, it's beautiful, and it's entirely worth it.

Understanding Shared and Unique Experiences

There's something powerful about looking at your child and truly getting it when they're overwhelmed by a noisy restaurant or they hyperfocus on a topic that fascinates them. I see myself in these moments, and there's a connection that forms without words.

But here's the thing I've had to learn the hard way: my neurodivergence is not my child's neurodivergence. The coping strategies that saved me might not work for them. The sensory inputs that overwhelm me might be completely different from what triggers them. I've made countless mistakes assuming my child would respond like I would, only to realize they're navigating their own unique brain landscape.

Advocating Without Burning Out

Some days, I find that I'm completely dysregulated trying to advocate for my child while managing my own executive functioning challenges. IEP meetings, doctor appointments, explaining to family members why my child needs certain accommodations - it's exhausting. And if you're neurodivergent yourself, you likely already have limited energy reserves to begin with.

I've had to learn to stop holding my breath during this process. What do I mean? Just like we need to exhale to survive, we need to release the pressure of trying to fight every battle at once:

●      I've learned to prioritize which advocacy efforts will make the biggest impact for my child right now

●      When possible, I delegate to my partner or a trusted family member when my own capacity is low

●      I've stopped (or attempt to stop) feeling guilty about setting boundaries when I'm overwhelmed

If I'm not breathing, no one else in my home is either. I can't effectively advocate for my child if I'm running on empty.

Embracing Flexibility and Routine

As neurodivergent people, many of us crave routine and predictability. But life with kids rarely follows a perfect schedule. I've locked myself in my room crying more than once when plans fall apart or routines get disrupted.

What helps me is creating a balance:

●      We have visual schedules and reminders throughout our home

●      I involve my children in creating our routines so they have ownership

●      I've practiced accepting that some days won't go as planned, and that's okay

When I feel myself getting too attached to how things "should" be, I remember that as neurodivergent people, we often seek control as a way to feel safe. But sometimes the most important skill I can model for my child is flexibility when things don't go as expected.

Managing Self-Doubt

The voice of self-doubt is loud when you're a neurodivergent parent. Will my own challenges get in the way of being a good parent? Am I doing enough? Should I be masking more to fit what other parents expect?

I've made countless mistakes and have raised my voice. I've threatened consequences that I knew deep down I couldn't follow through on. I've become desperate in these moments, knowing that no one was actually learning anything productive. So I stop, I breathe, and sometimes I cry.

Here's what I remind myself:

●      It's not just okay but powerful to apologize to my child when I mess up

●      Seeking support isn't failure—it's strength

●      My neurodivergent perspective gives my child something valuable that neurotypical parents can't offer

Creating a Neurodivergent-Friendly Home

Self-care isn't just about taking breaks; it's about creating an environment where we can all thrive. In our home, this looks like:

●      Designated quiet zones with soft lights, lots of blankets, and smells that que safety where anyone can decompress

●      So many sticky notes, dry erase boards, and posters that celebrate neurodivergence because visual cues help both me and my children stay grounded

●      Open communication about sensory needs and emotional states

I've found that when I honor my own neurodivergent needs in our home setup, it naturally creates space for my children to express their needs too.

Celebrating Neurodivergence

Some of the most beautiful moments in parenting happen when I stop trying to force neurotypical expectations on my family. When my child connects deeply with a special interest, when we notice details others miss, or when we find creative solutions to everyday problems—these are gifts.

Self-care is an important part of our survival. If you walked the desert with no water, would you be able to complete the journey? You wouldn't, so why do we skip honoring our neurodivergent needs as if they're not crucial to our livelihood?

Parenting as a neurodivergent adult isn't about being perfect. It's about showing up authentically, breathing through the hard moments, and celebrating the unique perspectives we bring. It requires us to be honest about how we feel and what we need, and when we start to honor this, our children will mirror the same.

We can't change a world built for neurotypical people, but we can create homes where neurodivergence is understood, accepted, and even celebrated.

www.atlaspsychologyboulder.com/blogs-posts/parenparenting-neurodivergent-children-as-a-neurodivergent-adult-dlad2

As a licensed therapist, I often get questions about Emotional Support Animal (ESA) letters from clients who share their lives with beloved pets. If you've been wondering what an ESA letter is, how it differs from service animal documentation, or whether your furry companion might qualify, you're not alone. Let me break this down in simple terms.

What is an ESA Letter?

An Emotional Support Animal letter is a document written by a licensed mental health professional that certifies your need for an emotional support animal as part of your mental health treatment. This letter serves as official documentation that your pet provides therapeutic benefit for a diagnosed mental health condition.

The letter essentially states that your animal companion plays a crucial role in your emotional well-being and mental health stability. Many of my clients find that their pets offer comfort during difficult times, help reduce anxiety, and provide a sense of routine and responsibility that supports their healing journey.

ESA vs. Service Animals: Understanding the Legal Difference

This distinction is important and often misunderstood:

Service Animals are specifically trained to perform tasks for individuals with disabilities. Under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), only dogs (and in some cases miniature horses) can be service animals. They have broad public access rights and can accompany their handlers virtually anywhere.

Emotional Support Animals don't require specialized training and can be various types of animals. They provide comfort through companionship but don't have the same public access rights as service animals. However, ESAs are protected under the Fair Housing Act, which means they may be exempt from pet policies in housing situations.

Housing Accommodations and ESA Letters

The primary legal protection for ESAs comes through housing. The Fair Housing Act allows individuals with valid ESA letters to live with their emotional support animals even in "no pets" housing, typically without paying pet deposits or monthly pet fees. This accommodation recognizes that these animals serve a therapeutic purpose, not just companionship.

My Office Companion: A Personal Touch

Speaking of therapeutic animals, many of my clients have had the pleasure of meeting my black toy poodle during their sessions. While he's not technically an ESA (he's more of an office mascot!), I've witnessed firsthand how his calm presence can help clients feel more relaxed and open during therapy. There's something about a gentle, well-behaved dog that can make even the most anxious person crack a smile.

His presence in my office has shown me the powerful bond between humans and animals, and how pets can indeed play a meaningful role in emotional healing and support.

How I Can Help with ESA Letters

If you're interested in exploring whether an ESA letter might be appropriate for your situation, together we can determine through an assessment process if an ESA recommendation would be beneficial as part of your overall treatment plan.

What Makes a Valid ESA Letter?

A legitimate ESA letter that can primarily be used for housing purposes per the Fair Housing Act must be written by a licensed mental health professional and should include:

• The professional's license information and contact details

• Confirmation of your mental health condition that qualifies for ESA accommodation

• A statement that the ESA is necessary for your mental health treatment

• The professional's signature and date

Moving Forward

If you're struggling with mental health challenges and believe your pet provides significant emotional support, this might be worth exploring. The first step is always establishing care with a qualified mental health professional (either myself or someone else who is licensed in the state of Colorado) who can assess your needs and determine the best treatment approach.

Remember, the goal isn't just to get documentation—it's to ensure you're receiving comprehensive mental health care that truly supports your well-being, whether that includes your four-legged friend or not.

If you're looking for compassionate therapy services and are interested in exploring whether an ESA letter might be part of your mental health treatment plan, I'm here to help. For more information, you can contact me directly at giulia@atlaspsychologyboulder.com.

Divorce is rarely easy, but when conflict between parents remains ongoing, the emotional environment surrounding the child can become chronically stressful. In high-conflict divorce dynamics, children are often exposed to tension, loyalty conflicts, unpredictability, and emotional pressure that their developing nervous systems are not equipped to manage.

While it is natural for parents to focus on the fairness of decisions, legal outcomes, or the behavior of the other parent, one of the most important shifts we can make is returning our attention to the child’s internal experience.

The central question becomes: What does this environment feel like in the child’s body and nervous system?

The Child’s Nervous System in a High-Conflict Environment

Children depend on adults to create emotional safety and predictability. When conflict between parents is frequent or intense, the child’s nervous system may begin to operate in a persistent state of stress.

Instead of feeling secure and able to focus on developmentally appropriate tasks—learning, friendships, play, exploration—the child may become preoccupied with monitoring the emotional climate around them.

Some children respond by becoming hypervigilant. They may attempt to read moods, anticipate arguments, or manage the emotional states of the adults around them, otherwise known as parentification. Others may withdraw, shut down, or show increased anxiety, irritability, or behavioral changes.

These responses are not signs that a child is behaviorally difficult. They are often adaptive responses to chronic relational stress.

Over time, repeated exposure to conflict can affect a child’s sense of safety, identity, and emotional regulation. This is why reducing a child’s exposure to parental conflict is one of the most protective actions a caregiver can take.

When Co-Parenting Is Not Possible

Many divorce resources emphasize cooperative co-parenting. In an ideal situation, parents are able to communicate respectfully, make joint decisions, and maintain flexibility around the child’s needs.

However, in some families—particularly those with long-standing relational conflict, high emotional reactivity, or controlling dynamics—true co-parenting may not be realistic. In these situations, attempting to force cooperation can sometimes increase conflict rather than reduce it.

This is where parallel parenting and clear boundaries can become protective tools.

Parallel parenting shifts the focus away from constant negotiation between parents and instead prioritizes structure, predictability, and reduced interaction. Each parent manages their household independently while maintaining their own consistent expectations for the child.

The goal is not always about co-parenting.
The goal is reducing the child’s exposure to conflict.

Boundaries as a Form of Protection

In high-conflict dynamics, boundaries are often misunderstood. They are sometimes perceived as punitive or rigid. In reality, healthy boundaries are not about control or retaliation. They are about creating stability and emotional containment for the child.

Boundaries may include:

●      Limiting communication to structured platforms or written formats
●      Keeping conversations focused strictly on child-related logistics
●      Avoiding engagement in arguments or emotional escalation
●      Creating predictable routines within each household
●      Protecting the child from adult conflict or legal matters

When one parent maintains calm, consistent boundaries, it helps stabilize the emotional environment the child experiences.

Children benefit from at least one regulated adult who can model steadiness and emotional safety.

Supporting Regulation in Children

Children living in high-conflict divorce environments often benefit from intentional support around emotional regulation.

This may include:

●      Predictable routines and transitions
●      Clear expectations within each home
●      Space for children to express complex feelings without pressure to “take sides”
●      Therapy or supportive relationships with regulated adults
●      Validation of their experience without placing them in the middle of the conflict

Importantly, children do not need their parents to agree on everything in order to feel safe. What they need most is consistency, emotional availability, and protection from adult disputes.

Refocusing on What Matters Most

High-conflict divorce situations can pull parents into a cycle of defending themselves, responding to accusations, or trying to correct the other parent’s behavior. While those impulses are understandable, they can also keep families stuck in patterns that prolong conflict.

One of the most powerful shifts a parent can make is returning again and again to the central priority:

What helps my child feel safe, regulated, and supported right now?

Sometimes that answer involves strengthening boundaries, reducing engagement in conflict, and investing energy into the emotional environment within one’s own home.

Children are remarkably resilient when they have even one stable, emotionally attuned caregiver. Even in the midst of difficult circumstances, that stability can make a profound difference.