Get To Know Our Team: McKenna Green

How I Got Here 

Therapy was not always the path I’d charted for myself. Growing up, stories were my favorite way to escape the real world and venture somewhere vastly more exciting. Ever since fifth grade, I dreamed of becoming a renowned author (still not off the table). While I was nose-deep in the Percy Jackson series, I didn’t realize how much that love of storytelling and meaning-making would show up in a very different way further down the line. 

While I was getting my degree in writing, the COVID-19 pandemic hit. With so much time on my hands, running and powerlifting became sources of structure and relief. Initially, they were great outlets, but as I became more immersed in powerlifting culture, they slowly evolved into an unhealthy relationship with food, my body, and exercise. Once I realized I needed help, I was surprised by how difficult it was to find a therapist who felt safe or fully understood my experiences. I attribute some of this to growing up in a digital age where harmful narratives about diet, body size, and “health” are so mainstream we barely notice them. I knew once I reached the other side of my recovery journey, I wanted to become someone who made the brave process of finding help feel a little easier. While becoming the next Rick Riordan has been temporarily put on pause, I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Therapy With Me 

Something I wish more people understood about therapy is something that took me too long to learn: showing up is crucial, but on its own, it isn’t always what creates lasting change. Growing up in a divorced household, I was chronically in therapy and thought that by attending sessions and talking about my feelings, everything would magically get better. It wasn’t until I got older that I realized my therapist wasn’t there to “fix” me, but to help me build tools I could use in real life that would help me feel better. Once I understood that and started putting it into practice, therapy became less frustrating and more empowering. That shift in perspective is now something I carry with me as a therapist, where the goal is to make what you learn in therapy feel usable in everyday life. 

For me, safety and trust come from really taking the time to understand you. I want to know your story, what matters to you, what feels hard, what you’re hoping to work toward, and yes—whether or not you believe in pineapple on pizza. One of the most difficult things is feeling misunderstood or like people have a hard time truly seeing you. When I ask questions or repeat something back to you, it’s always with intention. I want to make sure I’m actually getting it right. Therapy only works when you feel comfortable being honest, and my goal is to create a space where you feel seen and heard without judgment. 

Outside of Therapy 

I’ve got a host of grounding hobbies, but it feels especially relevant to talk about one that played a big role in shaping my career path. When I was early in my own recovery journey, I started a podcast as a way to share my story and (hopefully) educate others. In the spirit of honesty, the first handful of episodes were a little rough. Podcasting software was a foreign language. Now that I’ve got it down, I like to think I’m not half bad. Even though I’m on the other side of recovery, the podcast still feels like a journal. There’s such a profound lack of education around eating disorders, which often leads to an egregious amount of misunderstandings. You won’t catch me topping major charts anytime soon, but it still feels like I’m a part of rewriting the narrative one poorly timed dad joke at a time. 

If I had to pick a book or movie I could watch endlessly without getting tired of it, it would be the Harry Potter series—though I’ll be the first to say J.K Rowling and I have beef. Growing up, those books and movies were my biggest escape. Considering I could probably act out most of the movie’s lines, it’s safe to say that hasn’t changed. I still take the sorting hat quiz every few months to stay current. If you’re curious, I tend to get Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw the most. I like to think I’m Divergent and just tell anyone that asks I’m a Huffleclaw. 

What Helps Me Reset?

I feel most calm and centered when I’m doing things that make me feel connected to myself. Writing, listening to music, playing my guitar, longboarding, podcasting, cooking, hunkering down in a coffee shop with a good book, as well as laughing with people who matter most to me, all bring me back into my body and the present moment. I’m especially grounded by anything involving nature: being near the water, hiking, exploring, hammocking, or one of my favorite hobbies, looking for sea glass. It’s rare that our minds, bodies, and hearts are all truly and fully present at the same time. These moments bring me back in tune with myself when the noise of daily life throws me out of alignment. 

I was always someone who struggled to let things go. My mind has that funny function called “ruminating,” where it likes to linger on things outside of my control. Over time, I’ve adopted the belief that everything meant for me in life will make it to me. I’ll meet the right people. I’ll lose the wrong ones. I’ll be in the right places at the right times. The right opportunities, people, and even endings will circle back when and if they’re meant to. Even if parts of life feel difficult or uncertain, I like to remind myself of this because even those moments have purpose. When I can just let go and trust that everything will work itself out in the ways it’s supposed to, I feel a lot freer. 

Me, Off The Clock 

I have a very passionate affinity for street tacos. I’m convinced that even if I ate them for all three meals each day, I’d still choose to have them for dessert. I’m the biggest fan of chorizo, carne asada, and al pastor tacos (maybe pineapple on my tacos will give you a hint to my stance on the pineapple on pizza debacle). Throw an elote on the side, give me some horchata to drink, and I’m in the same paradise that my grandma’s in when she escapes to Florida for the winter. Sure, I used to want to be a young adult fantasy author when I was younger. Sure, Harry Potter might be in my frequent movie rotation. 

Sure, I used to love reading the Percy Jackson series. Despite that, my guilty pleasure TV show isn’t Game of Thrones or The Witcher—it’s Love Island UK. I love watching the drama unfold from the safety of my couch, sweet treat in hand, knowing I’m not the one having a crisis over eye contact by the fire pit. I consider it human chaos in its most harmless form. The accents, the chaos, the lingo. I’m there for all of it.