Perseverance learned in uniform. Empathy learned at home.

I grew up in rural South Georgia and spent my career in the U.S. Army before retiring from service. The military taught me perseverance and how people carry weight they never mention. Home taught me humility, and that the person in front of you is rarely telling you the whole story on the first visit.

My job is to get the diagnosis right, explain the plan in language you can repeat to your family, and stay with you while we find what works.

What I do is psychiatric medication management. That means a thorough evaluation first — history, prior treatment, medical context, sleep, substances, what has already failed and why — and then a medication plan we build together. I tell you what the medication is for, how long it should take, what side effects to watch, and what we do if it does not work. No one should leave a psychiatric appointment unsure what they just agreed to.

I see people from age ten and up, and I have a particular focus on veterans, active duty and first responders; on parents navigating pregnancy and the postpartum year; and on adults who were told for years that their attention, mood or anxiety was a discipline problem. Antidote for Hope is an inclusive practice — LGBTQIA+ patients, people of every faith and background, and anyone who has been made to feel like a difficult case is welcome here.

Because care is delivered by telehealth, visits happen from wherever you actually are — home, a duty station, a parked car between shifts. I hold licenses in nine states, and I coordinate with your primary care provider and therapist whenever you consent to it, because medication works best when it is not the only thing happening.

Reaching out is the hard part. Once you are in the room, my only agenda is that you feel heard and leave with something concrete.