Shakyra Washington
LPC Associate
Supervised by Tia Jennings, LPC-S, LMHC
There is a moment, right after the mask slips and before the self-doubt rushes in, when you can feel your own pulse again. It beats louder than the expectations of family, religion, career ladders, or social-media “shoulds.”That steady thump-thump is your body calling you back to yourself, and that is exactly the moment where my work begins.
I’m Shakyra and I refuse to pretend that therapy is just polite conversation on a beige couch.
Therapy with me is a reclamation project. It’s the practice of turning toward the parts of you that have been mislabeled, too sensitive, too angry, too needy, too much, and asking them what they know. It is slow, sometimes messy, occasionally hilarious, and I am here for every unscripted second of it.
You might be here because the ground beneath your life has shifted.
Maybe your marriage dissolved faster than you could Google “amicable divorce.” Maybe a promotion that looked shiny on paper feels hollow in your chest. Perhaps motherhood has you straddling two worlds: the woman you were before and the caretaker everyone expects you to be now. Or perhaps the weight you carry is older than any of these headlines, childhood trauma, generational patterns, silent grief no one in your family has ever spoken aloud.
My clients are high-functioning survivors who suddenly find themselves out of coping tricks. They are pastors who secretly question their faith, HR execs grieving miscarriages between Zoom calls, brand-new fathers terrified of repeating their own dads’ mistakes. They speak fluent “I’m fine” but wake up at 3 a.m. wondering why their jaw is clenched.
If any of that sounds uncomfortably familiar, you’re in the right place.
I draw from somatic and narrative therapy because trauma is a body story long before it becomes a head story. We’ll get curious about the tension in your shoulders and the catch in your throat, not just the thoughts running laps in your mind. Internal Family Systems lets us sit at a roundtable with your inner parts, the hyper-vigilant protector, the exhausted achiever, the teenage renegade, and hear each one out without shame. From there we weave in evidence-based skills from CBT and DBT, because sometimes the nervous system also needs a practical how-to manual.
I’m trained in CANS and ANSA assessment, which means I map your strengths as meticulously as I map your pain. I’m trauma-focused, ACE-informed, and professionally fluent in the dialects of depression, anxiety, PTSD, and suicidal ideation.
But certifications matter less than connection, so know this: I’m good at holding stories that feel impossible to say out loud.
If your spirituality is a vital organ, we’ll honor it.
My faith isn’t just part of my background, it's part of my being. While I was raised in the Christian tradition, what guides me now is a deeply personal relationship with God. I’ve experienced His presence in some of my hardest and most transformative moments, and that connection continues to shape how I move through life and how I hold space for others. Because of that, I offer therapy that can include faith, not in a forced or performative way, but in ways that feel natural, grounding, and true to you.
If prayer, Scripture, or spiritual connection are meaningful parts of your life, we can weave those into our work together. If you've been hurt by religion or are in the process of defining your beliefs, we can explore that with care and curiosity. And if spirituality isn’t central to your story, that’s okay too. We’ll work with whatever helps you feel most anchored, whether that’s mindfulness, breath, community, or simply being heard.
This is a space where your whole self is welcome.
A Note on Faith & Identity
What Sessions Feel Like
Some days we’ll laugh so hard your mascara smudges; other days we’ll sit in five full minutes of silence so a grief-stricken part can catch its breath.
I’m occasionally blunt, celebrate often, and hand out homework only when it serves a purpose, not because a worksheet looks professional in the notes.
Between sessions you’ll have practical tools: grounding exercises that actually ground, journal prompts that don’t feel like busywork, crisis resources that don’t shame you for needing them. Therapy is not a once-a-week performance; it’s an ongoing conversation with your own life.
I am not an ivory-tower clinician observing pain from a distance. I am a Black woman who has navigated micro-aggressions, church hurt, family secrets, and the fierce tenderness of single motherhood.
I have known the static of anxiety in my own bones and the sweet release of finally naming it.
These lived experiences shape my practice: I listen with street-wise empathy, challenge with love, and celebrate every milestone as proof that collective healing is possible.
You don’t have to arrive fixed, certain, or even hopeful. Bring the 2 a.m. questions, the half-written prayers, the resentment you’re afraid makes you a bad person. Bring your whole, complicated, brilliant self. My job is to create a container sturdy enough to hold it and to remind you that you are not broken.
If you’re ready to trade perfectionism for presence and people-pleasing for real-deal connection, let’s talk.