We had the good fortune of connecting with Kat McNiece and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Kat, what role has risk played in your life or career?
If you had asked younger me about risk, I probably would have launched into a list of very specific worst-case scenarios: choking on a sandwich, escalator malfunctions, tragic bus crashes. I was a pretty anxious kid. My brain often confused possibility with probability, and every risk felt like a direct invitation for disaster. That tendency ramped up after a sudden loss in childhood, but thankfully my parents got me into therapy early, where I started learning how to challenge cognitive distortions and do exposure work.

Even with all that fear, I was a determined kid. I kept showing up. My parents probably knew I would call midway through every sleepover asking to be picked up, and they still encouraged me to try. That steady support, along with my own stubborn hope, laid the foundation for how I relate to risk now. It is something I can do with fear, not without it.

The biggest shift came in my early twenties, when I was hit head-on by a drunk driver. I walked away with injuries, trauma, and a whole new sense of urgency. Near-death experiences have a way of forcing a reckoning. Do I live smaller now, or do I let this crack me open and make more meaning of the time I have? I chose the latter and that choice shaped everything that followed.

I changed paths completely, leaving design school and stepping into work as a behavioral therapist with autistic kids, where I found inspiration daily. I got certified in yoga, immersed myself in functional wellness spaces, and eventually pursued a master’s degree in social work while working full time. That decision felt like a risk too—financially, emotionally, logistically—but my values were in full alignment with the profession, and that made the fear feel meaningful rather than paralyzing.

Years later, I took another leap by leaving the comfort and structure of group practice to start my own private practice. It was a scary move, but what scared me more was the idea of not taking that risk. I knew I needed more autonomy and flexibility to practice in a way that felt most authentic to me. Once again, it came down to values. And in many ways, it felt like I was doing it for that younger version of me. The anxious kid who kept trying anyway.

Now, as a therapist, I still get nervous sometimes. Risk has not disappeared. But I think the difference is this. I no longer see fear as a stop sign. If anything, it is more of a signal that I am on the edge of something important, something aligned with my values. And I have learned I can feel that fear and still move forward, even if I have to blast Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” on repeat to get grounded, breathe, and remind myself exactly who I am.

Alright, so let’s move onto what keeps you busy professionally?
I run a solo therapy practice called Inner Alchemy Therapy, where I support folks navigating obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), anxiety, phobias, trauma, grief, chronic illness, and the layered experience of being neurodivergent in a world that is not exactly built for it. My approach is integrative and relational, which means I do not just focus on symptoms. I work with the whole person: the body, the nervous system, the story, the stuck patterns, and the brilliant, adaptive ways people have learned to survive.

I show up as a real person in the room, not just a head nod and a blank stare. I bring humor when it feels supportive, offer honest reflections, and hold space for nuance and complexity. I believe therapy can be both grounding and transformative. My goal is not to fix anyone, but to co-create a space where real change feels possible. A space where clients can begin to reconnect with themselves and live with more clarity, connection, and self-trust.

What sets me apart is that I live this work too. I am not separate from it. I bring lived experience with OCD, neurodivergence, and chronic illness into the room in a way that helps people feel deeply understood. I know what it feels like to not be believed, to have your reality questioned or minimized. I know how exhausting it is to mask. I know how vulnerable and brave it is to keep showing up.

Another thing that sets me apart is that I am the person who always says, “everything is a social construct.” People who know me are probably rolling their eyes right now. What I mean by that is I question things. The systems we live in. The rules we have internalized. Even the norms of my own profession. That lens of deep curiosity, justice, and critical thinking shapes how I show up in this work and how I hold space for others to explore what is really true for them.

Getting here was not easy. I did not always know I would be a therapist. I started out thinking I would be an interior architect. Then after that car accident, I began working with autistic kids as a behavioral therapist and eventually moved into yoga and integrative health. Those roles taught me so much about questioning the norm, nervous system regulation, neurodivergence, and the power of safe connection. But I realized I wanted to do deeper work. Work that explored the emotional roots, the inner world, and the patterns that shape us. Going back to school while working full-time was a risk, but it aligned with my values, so I did it anyway.

Starting my own practice was another leap. I left the comfort of group practice to build something that felt truly mine. It was scary, but staying small out of fear scared me more.

The lesson I have learned again and again is that you do not have to do it all at once, and you do not have to do it alone. Transformation is not about perfection or performance. It is about building safety, honoring your pace, and staying curious about who you are becoming. I have also learned that you need community. Leaning into the discomfort of being perceived and putting yourself out there is necessary to survive, for a business to thrive, and to feel real support.

I waited to go solo at first because I thought I had to have it all figured out. That I had to be further along. That belief kept me from entering the field sooner, too. But the truth is that therapists are not perfect. We are just maybe a few steps further down the path, with tools and training we are here to share.

If there is one thing I want people to know, it is that healing does not look one particular way. It is not linear or tidy. It is layered, personal, and sometimes messy. But it is possible. I have watched people shift in ways they did not think were available to them, and I have experienced that myself. That is the heart of this work. That is inner alchemy.

Any places to eat or things to do that you can share with our readers? If they have a friend visiting town, what are some spots they could take them to?
If my best friend was visiting, I wouldn’t hand them a packed itinerary. I’d just fold them into my everyday rhythms: books, big coffees, deep conversations, and little treasures we definitely don’t need but absolutely must have. Then I’d mix in a few favorites I think they’d love.

In Denver, we’d make a day of it. Maybe start with the Pearl Street Farmers Market if it’s in season, grab coffee near Wash Park, and take a walk through the park itself. It reminds me a bit of Golden Gate Park in San Francisco which I love. We’d visit the Denver Botanic Gardens for something peaceful and beautiful, and if we’re hungry, Leven Deli has the best Reuben I’ve ever had. Later, we might stop by Bonnie Brae for ice cream. Blueberry or banana is unbeatable. And if we’re leaning casual, GB Fish and Chips is always a good idea. Somewhere in there, we’d stop at Le French and attempt to narrow down which pastry to split (spoiler: we will get two).

A trip to Boulder is essential, mostly because I need everyone I love to experience the Boulder Bookstore. Multiple stories of pure magic—rugs, lamps, winding staircases, and books tucked into every cozy nook. It is one of the only places where I truly lose track of time. After getting blissfully lost, we would head to Gemini for dinner and good wine.

And if there’s time to escape the city, I’d head for the mountains. Idaho Springs is perfect for a quick soak in the hot springs and a slow stroll through town. Salida has my heart. It’s artsy, charming, and a little offbeat in the best way. We’d find a vintage shop, eat something delicious, and sit by the river until the sun tells us it’s time to head home.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
Wow, where do I begin?

Thank you to my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Patellis, for creating such a safe, structured yet flexible classroom where I was gently invited to trust myself. You gave me room to start practicing the skills I was learning in therapy, and I still think about that version of me, the one who started to believe I might be capable.

To my middle school art teacher, now dear friend, Kathy Grimler. The warm and creative space you held for me helped me process so much unspoken anxiety. I truly believe art saves lives, and your classroom was one of the first places that proved it.

To my partner, Scott. Thank you for showing me what real partnership looks like. Your quiet confidence in me, your emotional attunement, your steady support. There is a reason I am able to keep pursuing my goals, and it is in no small part because of you. Also, thank you for being patient during every existential spiral. You are a champ.

To my dear friend, Ellie. Our friendship has been nothing short of transformational. To be fully seen and accepted, and to also be lovingly challenged, is a rare gift. Thank you for holding me accountable, not over-reassuring me even when I beg, and reminding me that I can do hard things without overthinking them for six hours first.

To my parents. Thank you for always ensuring I had access to resources, therapy, and opportunities to be my best self. For your patience. For your presence. And for believing in me, even when I did not always believe in myself.

Mom, I truly cherish the evenings after therapy when we would sit at the mall and share a soft pretzel. Thank you for always giving me the space to share what I wanted, when I was ready. And for supporting me in everything I have ever attempted or accomplished, no matter how big or small.

Dad, thank you for exposing me to so much music. I feel like for both of us, music has been a huge part of our mental health journeys, and I owe so much of that connection to you. Thank you for rooting for me and pushing me to keep going, even when I am scared. I always know you are in my corner.

To my grandfather, my G’pa, who is no longer here physically but continues to shape the way I live and love. He modeled what it meant to live with integrity, to serve your community, and to treat others with dignity and kindness. I tagged along with him to community events and saw firsthand what compassion in action looks like. He helped me understand what it means to show up for people, and he did it in a way that never felt performative. Just deeply human.
He made space for who I was, even when he did not always understand it. He gave me roots and permission to grow. His love set the standard for every relationship in my life. I think I became a social worker, in many ways, because I wanted to live out the values he embodied. He was my compass then, and honestly, he still is.

And to all the anxious, neurodivergent people out there who have ever felt alone or like this world was not built with them in mind. To those who were told they were too sensitive, too much, too scattered, or not enough. To those who didn’t think they would amount to much or ever achieve something meaningful in life. You can do it. I know how hard and uncomfortable life can feel sometimes, but I truly believe that healing and belonging begin with connection and community. You belong here, exactly as you are, and the world is better with your voice in it.

Website: https://www.inner-alchemy-therapy.com/

Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kat-mcniece-5bb47b114/

Other: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/therapists/kat-mcniece-denver-co/1147363

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