Taylor Zaun

There’s something sacred about sitting with people in a vulnerable part of their lives. I didn’t always know I’d become a therapist, but looking back, it makes sense. I’ve always been drawn to the deeper layers of people’s stories—the unspoken tensions in relationships, the quiet ache of disconnection, and the longing so many of us carry to be truly known. ​Today, as a Marriage and Family Therapist, I walk alongside individuals, couples, and families navigating the complexities of being human together. My work lives in the in-between spaces: communication breakdowns, family tension, disconnection in marriage, the push and pull of parenting, major life transitions, or simply the sense of being stuck in patterns you didn’t choose but can’t seem to break. In those spaces, I hope to be a small light—helping illuminate paths forward, spark understanding, and reveal new possibilities. ​I’ve practiced over 7 years in both agency and private practice settings, walking with people from many walks of life. What I’ve learned is this: most of us are doing the best we can with what we've been given. But that doesn’t mean we have to stay stuck. Therapy can be a place to pause, reflect, and begin again—with support, guidance, and the quiet light of hope shining in even the smallest moments. ​My approach is relational and down-to-earth. I believe we’re shaped in relationship—and that we also heal in relationship. Sometimes that healing starts in the middle of a hard conversation. Other times it begins with silence and the courage to show up anyway. Either way, I’m here for it—with honesty, curiosity, and care. ​I don’t believe in fixing people. I believe in creating a space where growth becomes possible. I care deeply about your story and pay close attention to the systems you’re part of—family, culture, faith, community—and how those experiences shape the way you love, cope, and connect. Together, we’ll explore what’s beneath the surface and work toward something that feels more honest, sustainable, and illuminated. ​ ​