Eliza Stucker-Rozovsky, Psy.D.

I attribute my success to a combination of meaningful relationships and a willingness to follow what felt authentic to me, even when it wasn’t the most secure or conventional path. I’ve been fortunate to have people in my life who have invested deeply in me, both personally and professionally.

My advisor, Ken Critchfield, has been a particularly important influence. He has not only advocated for me, but has taken the time to truly know me, invest in my development, and trust me as a collaborator in expanding the work of the IRT Institute. That kind of mentorship has been invaluable in shaping both how I think and how I practice.

At the same time, I’ve made decisions that required a great deal of trust in myself—particularly starting my own practice immediately after postdoctoral training. I didn’t wait until I felt fully ready, and I’ve consistently chosen to prioritize work that feels meaningful and aligned over what feels easiest or most secure.

My husband has also been an unwavering source of support throughout my training and career. His belief in me—especially during moments of uncertainty—made it possible for me to take risks that ultimately shaped the trajectory of my work.

Taken together, my path has been shaped by both the relationships that have supported me and a commitment to building something that feels true to who I am.

The best career advice I received came from my advisor, Ken Critchfield, during a time when I wasn’t sure how I fit into the field. Coming from a background in pastoral counseling and hospital chaplaincy, I knew that training had been a gift—both to my own development and to my work with patients—but I wasn’t sure how it would integrate with the way I was being trained as a psychologist.

He encouraged me to trust that my prior training was something that complemented my development as a psychologist. That shift helped me understand that what made me feel different was not a liability—it was something I could integrate and use.

I was never trying to approach the work exactly like others, but I did feel self-conscious about how different my perspective was. His guidance gave me permission to trust that difference and to bring forward what is uniquely mine. Over time, that became a deeper trust in myself—both as a clinician and as a business owner—and allowed me to build a practice and pursue ideas that feel genuinely aligned with who I am.

That perspective continues to guide how I approach my work and my career.

I would encourage young women entering this field to bring their full selves into their work and to learn to trust that. Your life experiences, identity, and prior training are not things to set aside—they shape how you understand people and how you show up in relationships.

There are often messages in our broader culture about who women should be or how they should operate, and those messages don’t always leave much room for developing a strong sense of your own voice. Part of this process is learning to discern what is truly yours and allowing that to guide your growth.

That doesn’t mean every part of your identity needs to be explicitly expressed in the therapy room, but it does need to be intentionally integrated. In the development of yourself as a therapist, it’s important to consider how your identity and personal history inform how you think, relate, and respond. We are not neutral—we are one human interacting with another human. When we fail to examine and integrate parts of ourselves, they can show up in ways that are not only unintentional, but potentially harmful. At the same time, when that integration is done thoughtfully, it allows you to fully use what is uniquely yours as a clinician.

Finally, I would say that you won’t always feel fully ready—and that’s okay. Confidence often comes after action, not before it. There is a degree of trust and willingness required to begin, even while you are still learning and growing.

One of the biggest challenges in outpatient mental health right now is access to care. The demand for services continues to grow, and we do not have enough providers to meet that need. At the same time, there is no clear or consistent system in place for matching individuals with the type of care that would be most effective for them. As a result, patients are often left to navigate complex decisions about treatment on their own, without the guidance needed to make informed choices. This can lead to inefficiencies on both sides—some individuals remaining in care longer than necessary, while others are unable to access services at all.

I don’t think the solution is simply increasing the number of providers. Mental health care is complex, and differences in training, expertise, and therapeutic approach matter. One important opportunity for the field is to develop and test more structured, data-informed ways of matching patients to care—approaches that take into account presenting concerns, level of acuity, and the fit between a patient and a provider. This would ideally be paired with ongoing measurement of outcomes, so that care remains responsive and intentional rather than indefinite.

That challenge also creates an opportunity in my own work. I’m focused on building multiple pathways for people to engage with psychological knowledge and growth—not only through individual therapy, but also through clinician training and educational content. The goal is to both deepen the quality of care available and expand access in ways that are sustainable.

While traditional one-on-one therapy remains an essential part of care, the system as it currently exists is not sufficient to meet the level of need. I see an opportunity to be part of building new avenues for people to access meaningful psychological insight and growth. Even for those who may never become patients, access to thoughtful, high-quality psychological information should be more widely available. Expanding that access in responsible, evidence-informed ways is one direction I believe the field needs to continue moving toward.

The values that guide both my work and personal life are integrity, authenticity, and humility.

Integrity, for me, means being the same person across contexts. As a therapist, my patients don’t see every part of me, but I am not adopting a different identity when I enter the room. That consistency is foundational to trust, and trust is essential for meaningful relationships and meaningful work.

Authenticity is closely related. I believe it’s possible to be both professional and fully human. Professionalism is not about taking on a persona—it’s about having clear boundaries, sound judgment, and a strong knowledge base, while still showing up as a real person. That allows for a more genuine and engaged therapeutic relationship.

Humility shapes how I understand the therapeutic process itself. At its core, therapy is a human interaction. I’m not above the person I’m working with—we are approaching the work from different areas of expertise. I bring knowledge of psychology, and they bring knowledge of their own life. That perspective guides how I share my thinking, involve patients in the process, and prioritize transparency. If I were in their position, I would want to understand what is happening and have a say in it.

Taken together, these values support a way of working that is collaborative, transparent, and grounded in mutual respect and shared responsibility in the work.