Conversations with Natasha Davani

Today we’d like to introduce you to Natasha Davani.

Hi Natasha, can you start by introducing yourself? We’d love to learn more about how you got to where you are today?
My story began when I was working three jobs at once – one at a high-end gym, one as a behavioral therapist for special needs children, and one, most notably, at a pet cemetery.

It was a strange blend of helper roles, each one with its own distinct need. I’d originally had the goal of becoming an occupational therapist, but as I was working as an intern at a pediatric occupational therapy clinic, a fellow intern approached me and told me I was great with the kids and asked if I’d ever consider becoming a behavioral therapist. Their company was hiring and it was relevant experience.

I ended up working a behavioral therapist for 5 years, mostly in school settings. I was passionate about helping neurodivergent kids learn to communicate, express their autonomy, and other life skills. As a neurodivergent person myself, I was also a strong advocate for the rights and needs of my young clients – something I desperately needed when I was younger. When I became promoted to the role of Lead Behavioral Therapist, I taught my trainees everything I knew about autism and neurodivergent acceptance movements that discouraged outdated, aversive modalities, like forcing eye-contact and stim-exstinguishing. I was lucky enough to work for a company that gave me a lot of freedom in how I chose to run my sessions, and my clients loved them. I was allowed to be kooky, playful, and creative as I wanted to be with them, which I think they appreciated. The schools I worked with were also overwhelmingly supportive of both me and my clients, and often worked with me diligently to help my clients get what I believed they needed more of – extra breaks, sensory stimulation, or any other accommodation.

Working at the pet cemetery, my coworkers were often pointing out my patience and emotional care towards the various mourners. They didn’t especially know that as a behavioral therapist, I was not doing deep emotional work with my clients and it was a different modality, but they regularly told me they were glad to have a therapist on the team. I wasn’t afraid to really get into the emotional trenches of mourning, and as a huge animal lover myself, I knew how devastating the loss of a pet can truly be and never trivialized that. That job didn’t last very long (working three jobs at once had availability constraints I just couldn’t make work), but the emotional labor aspect and what I learned there stuck with me. And as I continued to work through a behavioral lens, I continued to realize its limits. My clients needed life skill-building, but they also needed deeper emotional care. So did their families. Their caregivers were often struggling with their own mental health or heavy feelings. Whenever they vented to me, it didn’t feel like work. That realization led me to apply to graduate school and formally pursue marriage and family therapy.

Considering my overall background and values. pursuing equine therapy felt like a natural next chapter. I grew up with horses and loved them as dearly as any other animal, and experienced early on how healing their presence is. I also deeply valued having more physically embodied, experiential jobs that get me out of an office from time to time. Today, that experiential, embodied approach remains central to my work: that therapy should meet people not just cognitively, but emotionally and somatically. So much of my childhood and formative years led me to where I am today. In many ways, this work feels less like a departure and more like a return to what has always mattered most to me.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
My mother is also a therapist, and I actually never really grew up wanting to follow in her footsteps. It always struck me as a very intimidating career path. I saw firsthand how hard my mom had to work to complete graduate school, finish thousands of hours, and run her own business. I was always snooping through her psychology textbooks for fun (the subject itself always absolutely fascinated me), but the idea of actually being a therapist and its many responsibilities, personal and practical alike, was something I really shied away from.

When I eventually began grad school, after several years of existential reckoning, I was set on initially becoming a behavior analyst. But the behavior analytic field never felt like the right endgame for me. I wanted to be there for neurodivergent youth, but it was their inner worlds I felt needed more nurturing, and what I was drawn to. When I switched my major to Clinical Psychology, my mom tried to warn me how hard it would be as an unpaid intern and then associate. I lived alone at the time and was barely making ends meet as it was, without potentially being forced to cut my paid work hours. But one of the unexpected graces of doing my practicum during the height of the pandemic was the flexibility of telehealth. That allowed me to do something I didn’t believe would be possible: working pretty much full-time while still seeing clients in practicum.

A lot of the struggles I generally faced were ethical as well as existential. It was difficult for me to work under systems, institutions and even individual supervisors who I believed were doing harm to vulnerable clients and prioritized crunching numbers and profit above all else. I got into some hot water along the way for respectfully voicing my concerns and centering my clients’ needs, especially at certain points of my associateship. The commodification of mental healthcare often spoke to a nearly existential conundrum, something almost oxymoronic: caring for a living. I took a lot of risks to do what I believed was right. I did lose the respect of a few people along the road, but I found most actually valued my candor, authenticity, and commitment to my clients. My former supervisors Deana, Sara, Lyndsay, and Hallie also were huge role models to me: they all knew how to be caring and kind, but also practical and get things done. I think it all taught me a valuable lesson about how to navigate these systems as ethically as I could and in a way that felt true to myself and my clients.

Equine therapy, my biggest goal, was also my biggest obstacle. Simply put, I was nowhere near ready to own my own horse, both financially and emotionally, and I couldn’t practice without one. But committed to that goal, I spent this past summer volunteering and endurance riding at various ranches, immersing myself in the vision. I was determined to make it all come to fruition, but kept getting met with two words: “logistical nightmare.” But something in me continued to stubbornly believe in and nurture my seeming pipe dream, and myself.

Around this time,I would venture to my talented friend River’s yoga class. One day, I met a woman there. She was happily chatting to River about her nearby ranch. When I walked up, he told her I’m certified in equine therapy. We got to talking, and she told me she’d been looking for an equine therapist to come work on her ranch with her 6 horses in beautiful Old Agoura. It seemed like the universe finally heard me and honored my determination – the magic of risking everything for a dream nobody really saw coming to fruition but me.

Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
My biggest clinical passion is working with insecure attachment. Until graduate school, I wasn’t too familiar with it, beyond the basics. But studying it in depth opened up a new world for me, and deeply influenced the lens through which I work. Especially as someone who works with neurodivergent, highly sensitive populations, fostering secure attachment and learning what it looks like can be particularly impactful. We’re living in a time when people are becoming increasingly detached from their relationships and increasingly avoidant and isolated, so guiding them back to the human condition, away from loneliness and mistrust, and towards connection, community, and feeling held, is really special. It’s what we’re wired for. We need connection and we need emotional safety and security with others. That’s what my work is rooted in coming back to.

My equine therapy work is also really dear to me. I love bridging the gap between the horses I work with and my clients, teaching them about their language and expression, their attunement, their ability to sense and comfort you. Working with horses can be decidedly unglamorous work – lots of dirt, mud, dust, and the physical labor of working with thousand-pound animals – but the experiential side of it can’t be matched, and caring for animals and developing bonds with them is one of the most embodied ways to show clients how secure attachment can feel through a psychosomatic lens. Horses are prey animals, and like highly sensitive people, they’re often very intuitive to their surroundings and the world around them. People who have a hard time with words or are slow to warm with people can really blossom working alongside horses.

I think another thing that sets me apart is having been in the deep trenches of my own self-work. I’ve been in therapy throughout my adolescence and adulthood (I was very lucky to grow up in a home where it wasn’t stigmatized), and I know the process deeply. But I also acknowledge that it’s an ongoing journey and always evolving. I know a lot of therapists who’ve only dabbled in therapy, but it’s a long, winding road, and the difference can really show up in your work and how you present as a therapist. Many therapists gravitate towards this field to better understand their own trauma and pain, but it can paradoxically be incredibly re-traumatizing to be continually faced with that through the inner worlds and experiences of your clients. Undergoing your own therapy journey and truly committing to it is the only true way to find a balance in the intensity and the beauty, and when you do, this work is incredibly beautiful from both sides.

How do you define success?
I think true success is being able to look at your life and feel that your choices line up with your values, even when that costs you comfort, approval, or speed. I’d rather move slowly and truthfully than win fast by betraying my authenticity. It also means emotional freedom and security – being able to feel and experience life deeply, being able to love without abandoning yourself, and being able to walk away from what harms you, even when part of you still wants it. It’s a nervous system that feels safer than it used to, with more internal permission to truly rest.

Creatively and professionally, success looks like having my voice intact. Being able to write, work, and practice in ways that feel honest and embodied rather than optimized. Being trusted with complexity. Not having to sand myself down to be palatable or profitable. Doing work that feels meaningful, even if it’s niche, misunderstood, or slower to build.

Ultimately, my idea of success is being able to live inside my own life without shrinking, rushing, or leaving myself behind.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://natashadavani.com

Image Credits
All photos by me