Natalie Tyran

Why I do this work: When I was 15, I developed an eating disorder that, within just a few months, completely turned my life upside down. I was stubborn—probably one of the most resistant clients you could meet—and I went through countless first sessions with therapists. Then one day, I met someone who saw me at my lowest and simply said, “I’m going to sit here with you, and we’ll figure this out together.” That moment changed everything. Through recovery, I discovered not just healing, but purpose. I couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t involve learning, growing, and finding better ways to support others. I believe every person deserves to be seen as more than what they’re struggling with—to be heard, to be part of their own healing, to have space in their treatment because it is theirs. I do this work because I can’t imagine doing anything else. It’s not just a career—it’s a reflection of the resilience that saved me and the hope I want to help others find in themselves.

What I bring professionally: For the past six years, I’ve worked in the fields of social work and psychology in a variety of roles. Through those experiences—and my own lived experience—I’ve developed a deep understanding of the client journey and the importance of creating spaces built on transparency, empowerment, and trust. My goal is to ensure that every step of the admissions process reflects those values, fostering both efficiency and genuine client agency.

How I show up at Ava: I show up to Ava as a human helping other humans, with compassion, empathy and commitment to meet everyone where they are at, to help get them where they want to be. 

The emotional core: No matter what you’re struggling with—or how heavy that struggle feels—we all know what it’s like to face something and wonder how we’ll ever make it through. The doubt, the fear, the shame. That feeling of standing right in front of the door but not being able to open it. For a long time, I was stuck there. I spent so much time thinking about what my eating disorder and depression had taken from me—how much life I’d missed, how much further ahead I could’ve been if I hadn’t struggled, or if I wasn’t still struggling in that moment. But over time, I realized that way of thinking kept me trapped. My struggle didn’t define me—it shaped my resilience. Recovery taught me that resilience isn’t about never falling down. It’s about knowing, deep down, that no matter how hard you fall, you will rise again. It’s not the absence of struggle, but the strength to keep moving through it. That’s what I carry with me now. The confidence that whatever comes my way, I can handle it. The resilience I’ve built is what drives my work, my purpose, and my passion—to remind others that no matter where they are, they too have the strength to get back up.

What grounds me: A call home to family, a hug from my boyfriend, looking at pictures of my bunnies, time in the woods, and a nap in the sun (or truly anywhere).