We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Melissa Fulgieri a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Alright, Melissa thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Do you think your parents have had a meaningful impact on you and your journey?

I appreciate this question for a number of reasons. As a family therapist, it’s easy to focus on how our parents harmed us, both consciously and unconsciously. Mitch Albom writes:

“All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.”

My life’s work has been about healing from and helping others heal from what did not go well in childhood. So, I’m grateful for the opportunity to consider things from the other side.

I was raised equally by four people—my mother, father, paternal grandmother, and paternal aunt, who lived down the street. Having multiple caregivers was immensely helpful because it allowed me to see my parents not as the sole arbiters of truth, as many children do, but as part of a broader system of guidance. When children are abused, they often internalize blame, believing a parent’s negative words as fact. But having access to four people’s subjective realities allowed me to compare and contrast perspectives rather than accept one rigid narrative. If I had conflict with one caregiver, I could turn to another for the parenting I needed. This experience instilled in me the value of communal living, which remains deeply important to me today.

When I reached school age, my parents made the decision to leave Brooklyn and raise my sister and me in Connecticut. This was a helpful choice—they placed us in an excellent public school system, ensuring we had the resources our hearts desired. Adolescence, as it is for many, was awkward and difficult, but having access to a robust theater program, where we performed 11 plays a year, was invaluable. Theater became a conduit for learning skills I still use today: public speaking, interpersonal connection, empathy, expression, movement, mind-body awareness, multitasking, memorization, and improvisation.

Education and knowledge were highly valued in my family. My caregivers were the first generation to attend college, and they instilled in me a habit of thinking critically. Despite being politically democratic, they made a point of watching Republican-slanted news to understand opposing viewpoints and refine their own thinking. Every evening, the news was on in our house; my father encouraged me to read the daily newspaper, while my mother, a voracious reader, passed down her love of books to me. Each caregiver didn’t just teach me what to think—they taught me how to think.

They also deeply respected the arts and culture. I was exposed to theater, museums, literature, opera, and old films from an early age. Having caregivers from different generations gave me a broad cultural education—by the time I was a teenager, I had been exposed to pop culture spanning the 1920s through the 1990s. This exposure made me feel well-rounded and gave me the ability to engage with people of all ages from a young age.

My aunt, who had a well-paying job, enabled our family to travel every summer. Starting at age seven, I was fortunate to visit different countries, an experience that shaped my curiosity, adaptability, and global perspective.

From a young age, my parents instilled in me the confidence that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. That belief—that hard work produces results—has been a guiding force in my life. More importantly, they modeled a healthy work-life balance. Though they were all hardworking, they never overworked. Weekends were respected as time for rest and leisure. Even now, as an entrepreneur, I’m able to step away from work without guilt. I don’t stress much, even when I procrastinate, because I trust in my ability to focus and be industrious when it matters.

My aunt, a corporate lawyer at a time when women rarely reached the level she did, often shared stories of sexism in the workplace. Although I may not have fully understood their impact at the time, watching her excel despite those conditions was deeply influential. My mother, a teacher, provided early developmental support, particularly in literacy, even though I was too young to remember much of it.

My father and aunt grew up very poor and were able to climb out of poverty through opportunity, strategy, and rigor. My father, a self-taught investor, introduced me to financial literacy at a young age. I still remember asking him whether he thought investing in art was a good idea. Rather than giving me a direct answer, he encouraged me to try and taught me about the concept of appreciation.

When I was 11, I started a plant-watering, dog-walking, and babysitting business to save up for a TV and VCR for my room. My father helped me with marketing, took me to open my first savings and checking account, and guided me as I made money over the summer. By the end of the season, he helped me purchase the TV and VCR—a lesson in financial independence I still carry with me.

Despite the privilege I grew up with, my parents instilled in me the importance of giving back. Every Christmas, my aunt and I would go to the local supermarket to choose a child in need to buy presents for. Gift-giving was a major love language in our family, and this balance of giving and receiving felt natural. I also volunteered with my father at a local soup kitchen, which reinforced our family’s values of generosity and community care.

There was no such thing as a “kid’s meal” in our house—my sister and I ate whatever the adults were eating. From an early age, we were taught to cook not by following recipes but by using our senses: taste, smell, and sound. To this day, I feel confident in the kitchen because I spent my childhood watching my caregivers cook and bake their specialties. They were also wonderful hosts, which influenced my love of entertaining as an adult. I learned that hosting wasn’t just about the menu—it was about creating an atmosphere where people felt welcome and at ease.

There was never any “talking down” to me as a child—for better and for worse. I watched the same movies as the adults, even when there were debates about whether they were appropriate. My bedtime stories were about the Civil Rights Movement, Jackie Robinson, and the Watergate scandal. I was taken to the Holocaust Museum as a child and taught early on about the historical atrocities of humankind. My thoughts were always respected, my intellect nurtured, and my worldview expanded far beyond my immediate surroundings. Being included in adult conversations helped develop my global consciousness, empathy, and ability to stay grounded.

Routine was also an essential part of my upbringing. Every morning, my aunt and I spent time together before I went to school—sometimes working on art projects, like making Christmas presents for the family, or going somewhere special for breakfast. Every afternoon after school, I went to my grandmother’s house, where we watched her favorite talk shows, made snacks, and played. She would sew clothes for my Barbie dolls and make me paper boats to play with. My mother took care of all the household chores—cooking and cleaning every day, ensuring that food was always on the table and that family dinner happened at 6 p.m. sharp.

This rhythm of life—the structure, the curiosity, the exposure to ideas, the belief in my abilities, the sense of community—shaped who I am. And for all the ways my caregivers were imperfect, they also gifted me with tools that continue to serve me every single day.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I’m Melissa Fulgieri—a therapist, writer, professor, and speaker dedicated to helping millennials break free from the lingering effects of childhood trauma, depression, anxiety, and self-doubt. Through my private practice, I guide my clients toward self-acceptance, emotional resilience, and deeper, more fulfilling relationships—with themselves and others.

My Journey into This Work
My path into this field wasn’t linear—it was deeply personal. I know what it’s like to carry early wounds that shape self-worth and relationships, to feel trapped in cycles of self-abandonment, and to search for a way back home to myself. Through my own healing process, I discovered the transformative power of self-compassion, embodied awareness, and the courage to live authentically. That journey didn’t just change me—it gave me the clarity and purpose to help others do the same.

I take a deeply empathetic, no-BS approach, blending psychological insight with practical strategies for self-discovery and healing. My work isn’t about “fixing” anyone—it’s about helping people rewrite their internal narratives, reclaim their truth, and build a life that aligns with their deepest needs and desires.

What I Offer
I now combine my clinical expertise with lived experience, creating a therapeutic space where sensitivity is seen as strength and where clients feel deeply understood. I work with individuals, couples, and families, and I also supervise other therapists. I believe in the power of community, which is why I host a free monthly supervision dinner where I cook and provide a space for private practitioners to support each other—both in their clinical work and in building their businesses.

Beyond therapy, I teach graduate courses on Family Therapy at Fordham University and Long Island University. I write a blog where I model healing through storytelling, exploring the intersection of mental health, sociocultural commentary, and relational dynamics. In 2022, I published The Couples Therapy Activity Book (Rockridge Press), and my next book, coming in May 2025 (New Harbinger Publishers), dives deep into how childhood wounds shape adult romantic relationships. This book helps readers acknowledge and heal their past and cultivate the self-awareness and compassion needed to create meaningful relationships.

I also lead therapeutic workshops. Some past and upcoming workshops include:

Inner Child Healing (NY Fine Arts Program, NYC)
Exploring Creativity Without Fear (Nocefresca Artists Residency, Sardinia, Italy)
Ketamine Therapy Group (Spring 2025, with Third Nature Therapy)—for those interested in exploring its healing benefits within a safe and intentional community.

What Sets Me Apart
Many therapists offer coping tools. I go beyond that—I help people deconstruct the societal expectations that have kept them small, reconnect with their inner wisdom, and step into their fullest expression of self. My work is grounded in feminist therapy, yet I’m proud that men also seek out my practice, feeling safe to explore emotional literacy and personal growth. One of my greatest joys is empowering women—and I love that part of that work includes helping men show up as better people and partners.

As a social worker, access to healing matters to me. That’s why I provide multiple entry points—therapy, workshops, community groups, clinical supervision, my blog, books, graduate courses, and traditional talk therapy. Healing should not be a privilege; it’s a right.

What I Want You to Know
Healing is not only necessary—it’s possible. You don’t have to stay trapped in the same patterns or carry the weight of your past alone. Whether through therapy, writing, or community, my mission is to help people return home to themselves.

As a lifelong creative, I love to connect and collaborate—whether you’re looking for support, interested in my book, or simply want to be part of this conversation. I am also looking for new and creative way to center healing authentically. We all deserve to live fully, freely, and unapologetically as ourselves.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

It is a miracle that I am alive today, given how suicidal I was as a child and how many times I came close to ending my life. Last year, while teaching a graduate school class on suicide, a student asked me, “Don’t you think that once someone is suicidal, there’s nothing that can be done?” I responded, “If that were true, I wouldn’t be here teaching all of you.”

Suicide is immensely taboo, but the reality is that it is human nature to grapple with our mortality and our purpose for being here. Life is difficult for most of us, in both unique and similar ways. As the Buddhists believe: life is suffering. However, I truly believe that if you can observe your suffering with curiosity and compassion, you hold one of the keys to life. That has been the essence of my journey—learning to harness resilience in a way that doesn’t harden me but instead deepens my self-awareness. Rather than allowing my painful experiences to make me bitter, I have learned to metabolize them, creating a richer sense of who I am and what I need to feel safe, free, and at peace. My ability to remain vulnerable, hopeful, and kind—to both myself and others—has been imperative.

I experienced deep grief and sadness in childhood, not only from psychological abuse but also from the cultural traumas of growing up in the ’90s amid intense homophobia, fatphobia, white supremacy, and misogyny. These oppressive forces shaped me in ways I wasn’t even aware of at the time. Adding to this, my caregivers became very ill during my formative years, forcing me to navigate the ambiguous loss of having parents and guardians who were alive but could no longer care for me in the ways I needed. I cannot count the number of holidays my family spent in hospitals, ICUs, rehabilitation centers, and nursing homes as we managed the illnesses of my grandmother, aunt, and father.

Humor and creative expression became my lifelines. I found the artwork in hospitals to be unbearably corny, so to make my sister and me laugh, I created a photo album of myself posing dramatically in front of them. Another time, while my grandmother lay dying in the ICU, I turned the beeping monitors, her snores, and the mechanical hum of the machines into an imaginary orchestra, conducting an absurd symphony. Making my parents laugh in those moments—amid death and grief—felt like finding a key to survival.

Over time, I discovered that my resilience was built on a combination of therapy, antidepressants, creative expression, vocational purpose, strong community bonds, and movement. Finding the right balance took years of trial and error. I was always a sensitive child, but for much of my life, I believed that sensitivity was something to harden rather than harness. The more I learned about self-compassion and gained insight into the human psyche through working with hundreds of people across the world, I uncovered another key: we all experience the same emotions.

Instead of invalidating myself as I had done for years, I learned to honor my feelings and tend to them with care. I stopped shaming myself for not getting over a breakup “fast enough” or for having moments of anger. I began to see my emotions as messengers, guiding me toward deeper self-care. I also learned to release the rigid thinking of good vs. bad, right vs. wrong, and instead view people—including my parents, elders, teachers, and mentors—as products of their circumstances.

As I grew older, I became more intentional about the relationships I allowed into my life. Many of us unconsciously recreate childhood patterns, hoping to heal past wounds by choosing people who mirror those early dynamics. I was no exception. For years, I surrounded myself with inconsistent people who made me feel like I was “too much” or “too needy,” believing that if I just worked hard enough, I could earn their love and validation. But eventually, I realized this was a fool’s errand.

Walking away from those relationships—despite how painful it was—allowed me to create space for connections that didn’t require me to prove my worth. Self-compassion gave me the clarity to take accountability for the patterns I was repeating and to focus on what I could control: my own behavior. That, more than anything, has been the foundation of my resilience.

What do you think helped you build your reputation within your market?

As I often teach my students, we don’t build credibility with our clients by simply telling them we’re therapists—we build it by creating healing experiences. I approach all of my professional contexts the same way: by being who I am, owning what I know, and just as importantly, acknowledging what I don’t know.

Unfortunately, my field is filled with egos—people who claim their way is the only way, that their opinion is the right one, and that everyone else is misguided or wrong. That’s never been my approach. Whether I’m teaching, writing, or working with clients, I make it a priority to pull back the curtain on therapy. I let people know when something is my opinion versus when it’s a scientific theory. And even when something is backed by science, I don’t treat it as an absolute truth—because science, like everything else, is a product of its context. To this day, institutions of research and knowledge are shaped by white, male, patriarchal values, which means we have to stay critically aware of whose perspectives are centered and whose are left out.

For me, credibility isn’t about positioning myself as an authority—it’s about transparency. I acknowledge the lens I speak from: that of a white, cisgender, 35-year-old, able-bodied, American woman. Recognizing that my perspective is shaped by my own lived experience allows me to stay open to the perspectives of others and remain humble in what I claim to “know.” I also build credibility by accepting that I am not for everyone, and even for those I do resonate with, my support may not be needed forever.

My field is also rife with power imbalances, and I take my responsibility seriously. For example, if a client in a relatively stable condition wants to leave therapy, it’s not my place to tell them they shouldn’t. Too often, therapists wield their power in ways that undermine a client’s autonomy. To me, credibility isn’t just about what I do in sessions—it’s about the kind of space I create for my clients. It’s about respecting their agency and deeply believing that they are the true experts in their own lives.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.melissafulgieri.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/melissafulgierillc/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/melissa-fulgieri-lcsw-76573a12/
• Other: pre-order my book:
  

  schedule a session: https://app.acuityscheduling.com/schedule/2708b7dd/appointment/32496416/calendar/6745451

  blog:

Image Credits

Hatnim Lee, photographer for pics 3, 4, 7
Anna Benjamin, Web designer for pics 1, 5, 6, 7