A significant portion of the Blueprint team is licensed mental health professionals, helping develop critical aspects of our AI Assistant, creating our digital library of resources, and ensuring that everything we make meets and exceeds the highest clinical standards. This issue, we’re highlighting some of these therapists, starting with Ann Dypiangco, LCSW. Ann works as a clinical content and quality assurance creator, as well as a private practice therapist. We chatted with her about finding work-life boundaries, guidance for new therapists, ways to ground between sessions, and underrated clinical skills. Take a look at our full interview below.

What’s something that people might be surprised to learn about you?

I grew up on a farm and went to a rural school during junior high. The entire student body, from kindergarten through 8th grade, consisted of only 48 students and was divided into four classrooms.

Can you share your journey to becoming a therapist? What drew you to the profession?

Like many therapists, I unofficially held the role long before I was given the title. I’m the oldest girl and third oldest of nine siblings, which meant I had a front-row seat to emotional dynamics, caretaking, and the art of sibling conflict resolution from an early age. Needless to say, I was a parentified kid—an experience that, as many therapists know, has a way of nudging you toward this field.

Mental health also touched my family directly, which led me to want to learn about the brain, mental illness, and how people cope, connect, and make meaning in the face of struggle. Professionally—if we’re being honest, my actual first job was at Kmart announcing blue light specials. But, my first job in the field was at 16, when I worked as a respite aide. I went on to major in psychology and, after college, spent a year working with survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault as a Jesuit Volunteer in North Carolina. That year introduced me to trauma work, the importance of cultural humility, and the field of social work—it lit my path toward grad school at Boston College.

Since then, I’ve spent the last 15+ years as a therapist and clinical supervisor, mainly in Los Angeles—though now I’m back in my home state of Montana, working remotely. I’ve worked in community mental health and domestic violence agencies, and have run my private practice since 2013. What started as a survival strategy in my family became a career, which is why this work remains deeply personal and meaningful to me, even after all these years.

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I find meaning in connecting with other therapists who are doing the quiet, consistent work of helping people reclaim their worth, their voice, and their power.

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If you could offer one piece of wisdom to newer therapists, what would it be?

Self-care isn’t just a cute suggestion—it’s survival. You matter. Your clients are not more important than you. Set boundaries early (including ending sessions on time), and honor them like your work depends on it—because it does.

Also: work on your relationship with money. This field has a long history of underpaying people who do deeply valuable work. You deserve to be compensated fairly, and you are not selfish or less caring for asking for what you're worth.

Do you have a daily ritual or habit that grounds you before seeing clients or between sessions?

I always have a cup of tea or a sparkling water beside me. This helps keep me grounded and offers a small reminder during the session to take care of myself, even and especially as I care for others.

What’s one underrated or overlooked therapeutic skill you think more clinicians should focus on?

Psychoeducation! We sometimes forget that what feels basic or obvious to us might be brand new for our clients. When people have clear, accessible information about what they’re experiencing, they gain the power to tap into their own wisdom and make informed and compassionate choices for themselves. And with the amount of misinformation out there, taking the time to provide accurate information is more important than ever.

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Self-care isn’t just a cute suggestion—it’s survival. You matter.

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What do you do to take care of your own mental and emotional well-being?

I try to keep a rotation of grounding practices that support both my mind and body—hot yoga, time in nature, eating for energy, meditation, morning pages, and a mix of time with family and time alone. I have a well-stocked toolkit... even if I’m not using every tool every day.

I also prioritize my own therapy and spiritual practices. The hardest thing for me to do, though I know it helps, is to make space for creativity. Last week, I picked up embroidery for the first time since childhood, and it was so unexpectedly satisfying. I'm hoping to do more of that.

How do you set boundaries around your time, especially with client communication or documentation?

This has definitely evolved over time. When I was just starting my practice, I felt a lot of pressure to provide top-tier customer service—which translated into being overly available and hyper-responsive. Any time my phone or email lit up, my anxiety lit up too. It was hard not to check or respond, even during family time.

I have three kids, and when they were younger—infants and preschoolers—life felt especially overwhelming. I often found myself finishing notes late at night or on weekends, missing out on time with them. It’s sad to think how much space clinical documentation once took from my personal life.

Things really shifted during the pandemic. I was doing remote learning with my kids while managing a full caseload, and my clients' needs were higher than ever. That season forced me to reevaluate everything—how I worked, what I could reasonably give, and what boundaries needed to be in place for my long-term sustainability. These days, I don’t check messages outside of work hours, and I use Blueprint for my documentation—it’s been a game-changer. It’s helped me reclaim time, reduce the amount of time I spend thinking about work, and create a much healthier rhythm between work and home.

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When people have clear, accessible information about what they’re experiencing, they gain the power to tap into their own wisdom and make informed and compassionate choices for themselves.

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How do you maintain a sense of meaning and motivation in your work over time?

My practice—and my former home—are located in an area of Los Angeles that was directly impacted by the wildfires this January. What stood out most about this experience was watching fellow therapists show up for others and for each other—offering free sessions, organizing community trainings, leading free support groups, and sharing resources for displaced or impacted people. It was a profound example of the strength and generosity within this field.

I also find meaning in connecting with other therapists who are doing the quiet, consistent work of helping people reclaim their worth, their voice, and their power. This is an alienating time—and yet, through this work, I witness moments of clarity, connection, and resistance that give me hope.

I’m proud to be part of a community that doesn’t just talk about care, but lives it.