From Investment Banking to the Therapy Room: Why I Left Finance to Become a Psychotherapist
For years, my life looked “successful” on paper.
I worked in investment banking and private equity, surrounded by intelligent, driven people. I learned how to think strategically, perform under pressure, and push myself beyond what I thought was possible. It was fast-paced, demanding, and externally rewarding — and yet, something didn’t quite fit.
Despite checking all the boxes I had been told would bring fulfillment, I found myself feeling disconnected, restless, and quietly unfulfilled. I wasn’t alone in this. Many of the people around me — colleagues, friends, high achievers — carried a similar undercurrent: exhaustion masked by productivity, anxiety hidden behind competence, and a persistent sense of “Is this really it?”
The Cost of Constant Performance
Finance rewards endurance, perfectionism, and the ability to suppress emotion in service of results. These skills can be incredibly useful — but over time, they can come at a cost.
I watched smart, capable people struggle privately with anxiety, burnout, relationship strain, and a loss of meaning. Asking for help often felt risky. Vulnerability didn’t fit neatly into a culture built on strength and performance. Many learned to power through rather than slow down and reflect.
I did the same — until I couldn’t ignore the quiet voice inside me anymore.
Choosing a Different Path
Leaving finance wasn’t a sudden leap; it was a gradual reckoning. I became deeply curious about why so many outwardly “successful” people felt so internally disconnected. I wanted to understand how early family dynamics, identity, attachment, and unexamined expectations shape the lives we build — and why achievement alone so often fails to bring satisfaction.
That curiosity led me back to school and into clinical training in psychology and psychotherapy. It was a humbling transition — trading spreadsheets and deal rooms for self-reflection, supervision, and sitting with uncertainty. But it felt aligned in a way my previous career never quite did.
How My Finance Background Shapes My Work as a Therapist
Today, as a therapist, my background in finance is not something I left behind — it’s something I integrate thoughtfully into my work.
I understand the pressure of high-stakes environments, long hours, and identities built around achievement. I know what it’s like to tie self-worth to productivity, to feel guilty resting, and to question your value when you slow down. I also understand the complexity of walking away from a career that others admire, even when it no longer serves you.
In the therapy room, this means I work with clients who are insightful, driven, and often outwardly “high functioning,” yet internally struggling. Together, we explore questions like:
Who am I beneath my accomplishments?
What happens when I stop performing?
How do I build a life that feels meaningful — not just impressive?
How do I stay connected to myself and others in demanding environments?
Therapy for People Who Are Used to Holding It Together
Many of my clients are people who have spent years being the reliable one, the capable one, the one who figures it out. Therapy becomes a space where they don’t have to have the answers — where they can slow down, reflect, and reconnect with parts of themselves that have been sidelined in the name of success.
My role is not to tell clients what to do or push them toward any particular outcome. Instead, I help them develop deeper self-awareness, emotional flexibility, and clarity around what they actually want — not what they were told they should want.
Redefining Success
Leaving investment banking and private equity jobs to become a psychotherapist reshaped my understanding of success. For me, success now looks like alignment — between values and actions, inner experience and outer life. It looks like relationships that feel authentic, work that feels meaningful, and the ability to be present rather than perpetually striving for the next milestone.
If you’re someone who has achieved a great deal but feels disconnected, burnt out, or quietly dissatisfied, you’re not broken — and you’re not alone. Sometimes the bravest move isn’t pushing harder, but turning inward and asking different questions.
That’s the work I’m honored to do — and the path that led me here.