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Enneagram-Informed Therapy

A map for understanding yourself.

The Enneagram is one of the most useful maps I've found for understanding why we do what we do — and why changing feels so hard even when we want to.

It's a personality framework that organizes nine distinct patterns of thinking, feeling, and relating — not as boxes to stay in, but as starting points for understanding yourself more honestly. Each type carries its own strengths, its own blind spots, and its own particular flavor of stuck.

I draw from several traditions in how I use it: the foundational work of the Enneagram Institute, the depth and nuance of Beatrice Chestnut, the narrative approach, and the neurobiological lens of Dan Siegel — whose concept of attendancy (where our attention naturally goes, often without our awareness) I find especially useful in a therapy context.

The Enneagram works on multiple levels. For some clients it's a surface-level tool — a way to understand how you see the world differently than the people around you, whether that's a parent, a teenager, a partner, or a coworker. For others it becomes something much deeper: a map of the patterns you've been living inside your whole life, and a language for beginning to work with them rather than against them.

It isn't right for everyone. And it's never the whole picture. But when it fits, it tends to fit well.

Enneagram diagram

A lens for understanding motivation, not a label

In Practice

How I use it in sessions.

There's no formula here. Some clients come in already familiar with the Enneagram and it becomes part of our work from day one. Others encounter it a year or more into therapy as one more useful lens. And some clients never use it at all — we find other ways in.

What I'm always looking for is whether it helps a particular person understand themselves with more clarity and less self-criticism. That's the only bar that matters.

I completed formal training in Enneagram-informed therapy, which shapes how I integrate it clinically — not as a shortcut to understanding someone, but as a tool for going deeper than surface behavior into the patterns underneath.

The Nine Types

What brings each type to therapy.

You don't need to know your type for this to be useful. Read what resonates.

Type 1
The Reformer

Your attention goes to what's wrong, what could be better, what doesn't measure up. You have a clear internal sense of how things should be — and a quiet (or not so quiet) frustration when the world, or the people in it, don't live up to that standard. You might not experience this as criticism so much as just... accuracy. You might come to therapy carrying exhaustion from holding everything to such a high bar, or a frustration with others that feels completely justified — until you start wondering why it never quite resolves. The work often involves learning that the map you've been living by was never meant to be carried alone.

Type 2
The Helper

You're attuned to what others need, sometimes before they know it themselves. But your own needs — what you actually want, what you're actually feeling — can be harder to access. You might come to therapy when the giving has run dry, when relationships feel one-sided, or when you realize you don't quite know who you are outside of being needed. The work often involves learning that you are wanted — not for what you do, but for who you are.

Type 3
The Achiever

You know how to succeed. You're good at reading a room, adapting, performing. But underneath the accomplishments there's often a quieter question: would anyone stay if I stopped delivering? You might come to therapy when achievement stops feeling like enough, or when you've lost track of what you actually want versus what looks good. The work often involves slowing down enough to find out who you are when no one's watching.

Type 4
The Individualist

You feel things intensely — and sometimes those feelings become the whole weather system. You might come to therapy because you're overwhelmed, because the emotional weight has gotten hard to carry, because you can't quite get your footing. It's often only once you slow down that something deeper becomes visible: a longing you can't fully name, a sense that something essential is missing or just out of reach. The work often involves learning to move through emotion rather than living inside it — and discovering that what you've been searching for isn't as far away as it feels.

Type 5
The Investigator

You trust your mind. Knowledge feels like solid ground — observable, manageable, yours. Relationships and emotions can feel like they ask for more than you have to give. You might come to therapy quietly depleted, having managed everything internally for a long time. Or you might come because someone you love has asked you to. The work often involves learning that needing others doesn't make you a burden — and that connection doesn't have to cost you everything.

Type 6
The Loyalist

Your attention goes to what could go wrong — not because you're pessimistic, but because your nervous system has learned that preparation is safety. You're loyal, thoughtful, and deeply caring. But the doubt rarely fully quiets. You might trust everyone except yourself. You might come to therapy carrying anxiety that makes no logical sense, or exhaustion from managing every possible outcome in your head. The work often involves learning to trust your own perception — and finding that safety can be built from the inside.

Type 7
The Enthusiast

You move toward possibility, experience, the next thing on the horizon. Life at its best feels wide open. But slowing down — sitting with grief, disappointment, or the ordinary — can feel almost intolerable. You might come to therapy when the options run out, or when you notice that staying busy has been keeping something at bay. The work often involves learning that the feelings you've been moving past have something important to say.

Type 8
The Challenger

You lead with strength. You protect the people you love and you don't back down easily. Vulnerability can feel like a liability — something that gets used against you. You might come to therapy after a relationship has fractured, or when the armor that has protected you starts to feel like it's also keeping people out. The work often involves discovering that real strength includes the capacity to be affected — and that letting someone in doesn't mean losing ground.

Type 9
The Peacemaker

You have a rare gift for seeing all sides, holding space for others, and keeping things calm. But your own voice — your preferences, your anger, your presence — can quietly disappear in the process. You might come to therapy feeling vaguely lost, or unsure what you actually want. Or you might come because life has moved forward around you while you stayed comfortable and still. The work often involves learning that your presence matters — not despite the disruption it might cause, but including it.

Sources & Training

A note on where this comes from.

I draw primarily from the Enneagram Institute, Beatrice Chestnut, the Narrative Enneagram tradition, and Dan Siegel's neurobiological framework. I've also completed formal training in Enneagram-informed therapy. If you want to explore your own type before we meet, I recommend starting with the Enneagram Blueprint or the Enneagram Institute — both are linked in the resource library.