About Side Quest Psychotherapy
Founder & Owner
Jenna Stone, LCSW-C (she/they)
Licensed Certified Social Worker–Clinical (LCSW-C)
Maryland License #29178Master of Social Work (MSW), Advanced Clinical Practice
Walden UniversityBachelor of Arts (BA) in Sociology, Concentration in Social Psychology
University of Maryland, College Park
Side Quest Psychotherapy was born as an act of resistance—against the myth that life is supposed to follow a straight line, and the systems that define worth by how much we produce, achieve, and conform.
From a young age, we’re handed a script: get good grades, go to college, earn a degree, get a job, buy a house, start a family. But for many of us—especially those with neurodivergent wiring or marginalized identities—that script never fit. And that’s not a personal failure; it’s a systemic one.
We’re taught to see rest as laziness, fat as failure, and nonlinear paths as something to fix. We’re praised for self-denial and punished for moving through the world differently.
But healing isn’t linear. Growth isn’t a checklist. And who you are isn’t something that needs to be “fixed.”
I created Side Quest Psychotherapy for the misfits, late bloomers, deep feelers, and chronic overthinkers. For those who’ve spent years masking, shape-shifting, or shrinking themselves to survive—and are finally asking: Who am I, really?
This is a space where complexity is honored, not pathologized. Where recovery doesn’t mean getting “back on track,” but finding your own rhythm. Here, your side quest isn’t a distraction or detour. It’s the real story. And you get to be the main character.
My Side Quest
My personal side quest began in undergrad, when I had to withdraw from college to enter eating disorder treatment. At the time, I was planning a career in public policy—becoming a therapist wasn’t even on my radar. But being interrupted, rerouted, and slowly rebuilt through care led me somewhere I never expected. What once felt like a derailment became the foundation for the work I do now: helping others reclaim their stories and find meaning in life’s unpredictable turns.
Along the way, I experienced iatrogenic harm—times when I wasn’t just misunderstood, but actively hurt by providers who didn’t listen or trust my lived experience. It wasn’t until I worked with a therapist who was genuinely curious, grounded, and willing to meet me where I was that I began to feel safe enough to heal. That relationship taught me something I carry into every session: therapy isn’t about fixing people—it’s about bearing witness, honoring complexity, and offering care without conditions. That ethos is at the heart of my work.
Lived Experience Meets Clinical Expertise
I’m a late-identified AuDHD PDAer, a neurodivergent parent raising neurodivergent children, and someone who has been fully recovered from an eating disorder for over a decade. That recovery is not only personal—it forms the foundation of my therapeutic practice. I live with chronic illness, which has refined my clinical lens on the ways sensory processing, immune function, and nervous system regulation are all interconnected. I’m also a therapist in therapy and have participated in weekly psychotherapy for over 20 years—a long-term commitment that has deepened my capacity for self-reflection, emotional regulation, and attuned therapeutic presence.
Policy & Advocacy Roots
Before becoming a licensed therapist, I provided peer support and worked in advocacy alongside mental health stakeholders at both the state and federal levels. I was involved in systems change efforts through organizations like the Eating Disorders Coalition (EDC), American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), National Council for Mental Wellbeing, and Mental Health Liasion Group (MHLG). That systems-level lens taught me to think critically about access, stigma, and structural harm—perspectives that continue to shape and ground my clinical work today.
Clinical Foundation
My clinical foundation was built through social work field placements and early career roles at Rock Recovery, Eating Recovery Center, and The Renfrew Center, where I supported individuals with eating disorders and co-occurring conditions across all levels of care—including Residential, Partial Hospitalization (PHP), Intensive Outpatient (IOP), and outpatient settings. While I bring lived experience of navigating higher levels of care, working within these systems was a formative chapter in my professional development. It allowed me to work directly with complex clinical presentations in a fast-paced setting, build strong foundational skills, and gain clearer insight into the systemic and structural forces that shape how care is delivered.
I approach eating disorder care through a liberation-focused lens rooted in the Body Trust® framework, and I’m currently completing formal training through the Center for Body Trust. This model has profoundly shifted how I understand disordered eating—not as a pathology, but as an adaptive and protective response to lived experiences, like trauma, systemic oppression, gender-based violence, and body shame. Body Trust invites us to center autonomy, embodied wisdom, and relational dignity throughout the healing process.
As someone who recovered in a straight-sized body, I recognize the limitations of my lived experience. I know my path doesn’t reflect the realities faced by those in larger bodies, and I don’t pretend that it does. I approach this work with humility, a commitment to listening, and an understanding that systemic anti-fatness deeply impacts recovery. I offer care that not only affirms each person’s truth but also actively challenges the oppressive systems that so often get in the way of healing.
Research Is My Special Interest
Keeping up with emerging research and training in evidence-based treatment isn’t just part of my job—it’s one of my special interests. Long before I became a licensed therapist, I was driven to understand my own struggles, which led me deep into clinical theory, treatment models, and continuing education. That personal search for clarity sparked a lasting passion for learning, questioning, and connecting the dots—one that continues to shape how I think about healing and how I show up in my work with clients.
Over the years, I’ve attended conferences and events hosted by PDA North America, Lives in the Balance, Psychotherapy Networker, the International OCD Foundation (IOCDF), TLC Foundation for Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors, Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA), International Society for Bipolar Disorders (ISBD), International Association for Premenstrual Disorders (IAPMD), International Association of Eating Disorders Professionals (iaedp), Academy for Eating Disorders (AED), National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA), National Association for Alcoholism and Drug Abuse Counselors (NAADAC), NAMI Maryland, and Active Minds. I’ve also completed trainings through the Cognitive Behavior Institute (CBI), OCD Training School, and TLC Foundation’s Professional Training Institute.
I acknowledge the privilege of having the time, resources, and cognitive style that make ongoing research and training feel energizing rather than exhausting.
Where Lived Experience Meets Clinical Curiosity
While I was in graduate school, I was navigating my own struggles with OCD and discovered Inference-Based CBT (I-CBT)—a treatment model just beginning to gain traction in the U.S. Because it wasn’t widely taught, I began studying it independently and connected with a group of clinicians with lived experience—many of whom had also found ERP to be insufficient. Our conversations extended beyond technique—we unpacked themes like disgust sensitivity, moral uncertainty, and the ways obsessional doubt can show up not just cognitively, but through sensory and somatic channels. That early learning community deeply reshaped how I understand OCD and laid the foundation for the way I approach it in my clinical work today.
I never set out to become an OCD therapist—it felt too close to home. But with encouragement from Zen Psychological Center, I reconsidered. I eventually joined their team as a provisionally licensed clinician, where I supported clients navigating complex OCD, anxiety-related disorders, and PANS/PANDAS/AE under close supervision. That work illuminated a pattern I’d seen in myself: my OCD symptoms often intensified during Lyme and other autoimmune-related flare-ups. It reinforced the importance of viewing mental health through a whole-body lens.
As a clinical team, we observed how neurodivergent traits like synesthesia, hyperempathy, and justice sensitivity often contributed to the development and expression of OCD symptoms. I began noticing similar patterns of unrecognized neurodivergence in my eating disorder clients—traits like sensory sensitivities, cognitive rigidity, and masking that were often misdiagnosed as personality disorders. This parallel insight prompted a deeper reflection, both clinically and personally, and ultimately led me to pursue affirming, collaborative, and identity-informed diagnostic work.
Building Competence in Diagnostic Assessment
To strengthen this aspect of my work, I pursued advanced training in trauma-informed autism assessment through The Properties of Light and contextualized ADHD evaluation through NeuroAbundant—both rooted in the neurodiversity movement and grounded in lifespan development, differential diagnosis, and the integration of lived experience—particularly in late-identified and marginalized presentations. I’ve also been trained in the administration, scoring, and interpretation of many of the core psychometric tools commonly used in neurodevelopmental evaluations.
My approach to assessment is grounded in clinical rigor, developmental attunement, and a deep commitment to identity-affirming care. I continue to hone my formulation skills through regular consultation with experienced evaluators—including both master’s-level clinicians and licensed psychologists—with a focus on nuance, narrative, and diagnostic complexity. These experiences have helped me cultivate an approach that is precise, respectful, and rooted in curiosity about each client’s unique story.
Professional Leadership & Collective Action
In 2024, I co-founded the Mid-Atlantic Collective for Eating Disorders alongside a group of colleagues—an initiative born from our collective divestment from the International Association of Eating Disorders Professionals (iaedp) and our shared commitment to advancing evidence-informed, harm-reductionist care for eating disorders. In addition to my work with the Collective, I remain actively engaged in ongoing consultation, peer mentorship, and professional community building. I’m a professional member of the Academy for Eating Disorders (AED) and the International OCD Foundation (IOCDF) and regularly collaborate with other clinicians invested in socially just, evidence-informed, and liberation-focused practice.
For me, leadership is not about hierarchy—it’s about accountability, collaboration, and contributing to something larger than oneself. I see this work as part of a broader movement toward care that centers dignity, consent, and systemic change.
How I Practice
I show up as my authentic self—because real connection is where the healing begins. I’ve tried being the blank-screen therapist: holding back my personality in the name of “professionalism.” It didn’t land well for my clients or for me. As someone who’s been on the other side of the couch, I know how disorienting it can be to sit across from someone who seems more like a robot than a human. Therapy shouldn’t feel like talking to a wall.
What I’ve come to understand is this: being relational isn’t unprofessional—it’s essential. I hold clear boundaries and take your trust seriously, but I don’t believe that distance creates safety. Therapy is most powerful when it’s grounded in relationship, not hierarchy. This is how I work to decolonize therapy.
My therapeutic approach is rooted in relational-cultural theory, womanist psychology, queer theory, mad studies, and community-based healing frameworks that center mutuality, interdependence, and collective care. These traditions challenge the myths of individualism, normativity, and pathologization—and they remind me that healing doesn’t come from fixing people. It comes from honoring lived experience, disrupting power-over dynamics, and co-creating new ways of being. This work is inseparable from anti-racism and collective liberation. It’s not just about feeling better—it’s about building a more just and connected world, starting right here in the therapy room.
I’m unapologetically fat positive, anti-diet, and aligned with Health at Every Size® principles. I approach eating and feeding disorders with curiosity, compassion, and an awareness of the cultural, systemic, and neurobiological forces that shape how we relate to our bodies and needs. My work is also nervous system-informed and deeply attuned to each person’s sensory profile, cognitive style, and unique way of being in the world.
I’m committed to ongoing learning and reflective practice. That means I regularly engage in clinical consultation, continuing education, and critical self-examination—especially around the ways systemic privilege, whiteness, and power show up in therapeutic spaces. This isn’t a one-time training or checkbox; it’s lifelong work. I hold myself accountable to my values by staying curious, open to feedback, and committed to growth—because you deserve a therapist who’s always learning, too.
At its core, therapy with me is about helping you come home to yourself. It’s not about compliance or chasing “normal.” It’s about reclaiming your agency, making sense of your experience, and healing in ways that feel aligned, sustainable, and true to who you are.
What to Expect
I’ll meet you where you are—whether that means putting words to something you’ve never said out loud, or sitting with uncertainty until it feels a little less heavy. Sessions might be structured or open-ended, conversational or quiet, focused or wandering. We get to figure that out together.
I tend to infodump when it feels useful—especially if I’m offering psychoeducation or helping connect the dots between past experiences and present patterns. But this isn’t school, and I don’t assume you want a running commentary. I check in often and tailor things to your pace and preferences. Some people find grounding in having language or frameworks. Others just want space to feel and process. We can do both.
My special interests—things like cats, Pokémon, Dungeons & Dragons, and Star Trek—might occasionally show up in session, especially if we share a fandom or a favorite niche topic. I also love learning about your special interests, whether you share them in a passing comment or bring them into our work more directly. Joy, passion, and deep focus all have a place here.
Sometimes, I’ll come across something between sessions—a meme, a song, an article—that reminds me of our work together. When I share, it’s simply a gentle, no-pressure gesture of care. You’re welcome to do the same. Therapy is a space we co-create, and I invite you to help shape it in a way that feels resonant and real.
You might notice me fidgeting, sipping coffee, snacking, or wearing cozy clothes in session. These are part of how I stay grounded and present—they’re access needs, not distractions. I name them so you know that you’re welcome to do the same. You can stim, move around, bring a meal, or simply show up however feels most supportive to your nervous system. If meal support is something you need, we can schedule a session over breakfast or lunch. Parallel play is always on the table, too—whether that looks like doodling, gaming, building with Legos, or just quietly being together while you process.
And fair warning: my cat, Benji, may drop in during virtual sessions. He’s my resident co-regulator.
🐈 Meet the Cat of Side Quest Psychotherapy
Benji is a ginger-and-cream Persian cat with a talent for napping, grooming, and making people feel instantly more at ease. He’s fully HAES-aligned and a devoted intuitive eater. Benji takes his role seriously: regulating the vibe, showing up unbothered, and occasionally making surprise appearances in virtual sessions to offer silent support—or demand attention.
Clients often say his presence helps them feel more grounded. Benji believes that rest is resistance and proudly models opposition to grind culture. He’s a soft, purring reminder that healing doesn’t have to look a certain way—and that sometimes, being curled up in blankets is the work.
Furry companions are always welcome in our virtual space.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is it like to work with an autistic therapist?
I can’t speak for every autistic therapist—but here’s what you can expect when you work with me: clear, direct, and matter-of-fact communication. I don’t hide behind vague therapist-speak or pretend to be a blank slate. I say what I mean and mean what I say. Therapy is political, and I bring that awareness into the room. From the start, I prioritize honesty, collaboration, and mutual respect—because therapy works best when we both get to show up fully.
My autistic brain is wired for pattern recognition and deep attunement. I tend to notice subtle emotional cues, inconsistencies, and patterns that others might miss, and I approach our work with curiosity, care, and precision. Many clients have told me it’s the first time they’ve felt truly seen—and that kind of recognition can be profoundly healing.
That said, I was trained in clinical models rooted in allistic norms, and like many late-identified neurodivergent therapists, I’m actively unlearning the ways those frameworks pathologized difference. I’m also in an ongoing process of unmasking—slowly, imperfectly, and on my own terms. But I never assume that unmasking is the goal for everyone. For many of us, masking has been a vital survival strategy. Whether you’re ready to peel back layers or simply want a space where you don’t have to explain yourself—I’ll meet you there. There’s no one “right” way to be in therapy. We move at your pace.
You say that you're recovered—what if I don’t believe full recovery is possible?
That’s okay. I struggled to believe that full recovery from an eating disorder was even possible. I spent most of my teens and twenties cycling in and out of inpatient and residential programs. At one point, I was on Social Security disability—recovery felt completely out of reach. But in 2014, something shifted. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. The eating disorder no longer served a purpose in my life, and I was finally ready to let it go. That’s when I entered full remission.
While I identify as fully recovered, I live with chronic illness and experience feeding-related challenges that have nothing to do with body image. These experiences have shown me just how often sensory, medical, and neurodivergent food struggles are overlooked or misinterpreted—even in eating disorder spaces. If you’re dealing with something like MCAS, GI issues, or other complex conditions alongside an ED, I’ll meet you with curiosity—not assumptions—and I’ll advocate for your needs. Not everything is the eating disorder speaking.
For me, recovery means freedom. I no longer organize my life around food, weight, or control. I’ve let go of compulsive exercise and now relate to movement in a peaceful, intuitive way. I move because it feels good—not to earn rest, nourishment, or a sense of worth. That said, you don’t have to define recovery the way I do—or even see it as the end goal. My role isn’t to prescribe a particular path, but to support you in finding what feels tolerable, sustainable, and true to your values.
Can I still work with you if I want to lose weight?
Of course! I won’t pathologize your desire to lose weight—that longing often comes from living in a world steeped in anti-fatness. I hold space for those feelings, while also practicing from a fat-positive, weight-inclusive, and anti-diet perspective. That means I don’t support intentional weight loss as a treatment goal, and I won’t frame health or healing as dependent on body size. Instead, we can explore the “why” underneath your desire, look at what you’re truly seeking, and build more compassionate pathways toward those deeper needs—like safety, belonging, and autonomy—without reinforcing harmful systems.
For some people—especially trans and nonbinary folks—body-based distress can include gender dysphoria related to fat distribution, body shape, or secondary sex characteristics. These experiences are real, valid, and can be profoundly painful or even life-threatening. In those cases, our work may involve exploring body grief, honoring your relationship to gender, and supporting your choices around gender-affirming care—medical, social, or otherwise. My role is never to judge or redirect you, but to walk alongside you with respect, nuance, and a deep commitment to your autonomy and authenticity.
If you’re navigating fatphobia, dysphoria, or body-based trauma, you are not alone—and you don’t need to leave any part of yourself at the door to be supported here.