Aaron Esler, MACP, CCC, RCC
“I’m not here to fix anyone — I’m here to meet you where you are and help you find your footing again.”
I believe the opposite of addiction is connection.
That belief sits at the center of how I show up in this work — not as someone with all the answers, but as a fellow human who knows what it’s like to lose your footing and find it again. Therapy, for me, isn’t about fixing people; it’s about meeting you where you are, making sense of what’s been heavy, and walking beside you as you start to rebuild trust in yourself and in life.
My path to becoming a therapist wasn’t linear. I’ve spent more than two decades in the helping professions, and I’ve sat across from people at nearly every stage of healing — from early recovery and trauma to burnout, grief, and the quiet ache of trying to hold everything together. I’ve also lived it. I found recovery in my early thirties, and that journey taught me what courage, humility, and real change actually look like. It showed me that healing is possible, even when it feels impossible.
Clients often say they feel comfortable with me quickly. I think that’s because I bring humor, honesty, and humanity into the room. I believe therapy should feel like a genuine relationship — grounded in mutual respect, compassion, and the freedom to be fully yourself. Sometimes that means laughter, sometimes silence, sometimes both in the same breath.
My work draws from evidence-based practices like Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behaviour Therapy (DBT), and mindfulness-based approaches, but also from something less clinical — a belief in the innate capacity of people to heal when they’re met with patience and presence. I pay attention to the mind-body connection, to what happens in our stories, and to the quiet wisdom that emerges when we stop trying to be perfect.
Over the years, I’ve worked with individuals, couples, and families navigating addiction, anxiety, depression, trauma, grief, and the challenges of neurodivergence. I’ve also worked extensively within Indigenous communities, supporting collective and cultural healing and learning what it truly means to walk alongside others in a good way. Those experiences continue to shape how I understand resilience, identity, and belonging.
When I’m not in session, you might find me outdoors, spending time with family, or immersed in learning something new — lately it’s mindfulness for chronic pain, because I believe the ways we hold pain in our bodies often mirror the stories we’ve been carrying for years.