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16,764 verified providers · 16,764 match your filters

Filtered by Specialty: Anxiety

Related Trauma & PTSD (251) Depression (228) Stress (197) OCD (63)

MC

Maya Calloway

LCSW Portland, OR Telehealth

Anxiety

Warm, collaborative therapy for adults navigating anxiety, burnout, and the transitions life hands us, we go at your pace.

Accepting $130–$180 /session OHP, Aetna, CareOregon +3 Request Intro

TB

Thomas Bui

MA, LPC associate Portland, OR Telehealth

Anxiety

Practical, skills-based work for anxiety and stress, expect warmth, structure, and zero judgment.

Accepting $160–$200 /session OHP, PacificSource +2 Request Intro

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Therapists accepting new clients Telehealth therapists who take OHP Anxiety therapists in Portland What is OHP?

Found 50 verified providers: matches are highlighted on each card.

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TA

Tess Arden

PMHNP · Portland, OR · In-person & Telehealth

Depression Sadness OHP · Telehealth

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Filtered by Specialty: Anxiety

MC

Maya Calloway

LCSWPortland, OR· Telehealth

Anxiety

Accepting $130–$180 /session

Request Intro

TB

Thomas Bui

LPC associatePortland, OR· Telehealth

Anxiety

Accepting $160–$200 /session

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Plain English · verified directory

Accepting new clients Telehealth · takes OHP Anxiety in Portland What is OHP?

Found 50 verified providers: matches are highlighted on each card.

Verified providers 50

TA

Tess Arden

PMHNP · Portland, OR

Depression Sadness OHP · Telehealth

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From the community

Latest Articles

Fresh insights from our partners and editorial team — therapy guides, Oregon-specific insurance answers, and clinical thinking.

View all articles

Can a Teenager in Oregon Start Therapy Without a Parent's Permission?

In Oregon, a 14-year-old can consent to their own outpatient mental health treatment. That surprises most parents and most teenagers. Here is what the law actually says and how I work with it in practice.

Heather Swaney, MA, LPC· Aug 27, 2026

When should I talk to a therapist about gender identity?

Have you ever wondered if the discontentment or discomfort about your body or perceived identity could be gender dysphoria? For most of us, we are not offered that kind of language or conceptualization to name it for what it is. Before we get into it, let’s differentiate between dysphoria and dysmorphia, two terms I often hear used interchangeably. Dysphoria, typically referring to gender dy

Jaxon Shaffer· Jul 7, 2026

The AI Feature I Chose Not to Build

As a therapist, I have complicated feelings about artificial intelligence. When AI became widely available, I was both fascinated and uneasy. Like a lot of people, I wondered where it would take us. Would it improve people's lives? Replace jobs? Weaken human connection? Change healthcare? I still don't know the answers to most of those questions. What I do know is that while building my app

Soulpath LLC· Jul 8, 2026

What I Learned from Goodbye

The first time the floor fell out from under me, I was only ten years old. My mother died just six months after being diagnosed with cancer, a timeline so fast it felt less like a passing and more like a theft. By the time I got to college, I had already built a personal relationship with depression.So, when my best friend’s brother was shot and killed, it didn't just sadden me—it leveled me. I was trying to cope with my first internship, to maintain friendships, be 21, and graduate college. That family had become my second family, my safety net. When they broke, I broke. I didn’t just fall into a depression; I dove into it, sinking into my bed with my bottles drowning me. Slowly everything I was working towards slipped away. When you’re in that deep, the world shrinks to the size of a liquor bottle and the four walls of a bedroom you can’t bring yourself to leave. My dad’s neighbor, a therapist herself, eventually threw me a rope. She recommended a friend of hers to work with me.For nearly two years, that woman was my entire world. We met weekly, sometimes twice a week. She was there when the addiction took hold, and she was there when things got even darker—after I was sexually assaulted and the depression curdled into suicidal ideation. I was failing every class, a ghost in my own life, only stumbling to the nearest 7-11 or liquor store to refill my cup.She was the one who finally got me into rehab after two different stints in the psych ward. But addiction isn't a straight line. I left rehab early, promising my father I wouldn’t drink for 6 months so I would be able to learn to drink properly afterwards, and graduate college. Upon returning home, my roommates kicked me out of our house after finding me hidden in my closet; high, but not drunk. I didn’t drink for those 6 months, but I didn’t stay clean. I moved into my own apartment where I could hide how bad things really got. I continued to work with my therapist, showing up to our sessions high and not working towards any of the goals we were setting. Somehow, through a haze of survival instinct I didn't know I still had, I managed to graduate. My 6 months of no drinking had finished and against my therapist's advice, I ran. I fled to Mexico. I spent months there, thinking a change of scenery would fix a broken spirit, but I only spiraled further. By the time I touched back down in Oregon, I was desperate. I knew I was dying. I reached out to the one person who had always held the rope for me, expecting her to pull me up again.She said no.She declined to work with me. At the time, it felt like the ultimate betrayal. I had trusted her with the most jagged pieces of my soul, and in my moment of greatest need, she closed the door. She said she couldn’t help me anymore, even if I got sober as she couldn’t trust me. I ended up back in the psych ward shortly after, vibrating from a week of no sleep and a body fueled by nothing but chemicals and alcohol.But that "no" did something "yes" never could. It forced me to realize that no one person could carry me—I had to learn how to stand on my own shaky legs.I was able to find a new therapist. I moved in with my lifelong best friend. I started attending meetings. I learned to ask for help, and hold myself accountable. There wasn’t a choice anymore.Today, I am nearly two years sober. I’ve held the same job for over a year, and I’m in a beautiful, loving relationship. After nearly a year of working with my new therapist she told me something I never thought I would hear, “Leah, I think our work here is done. It’s time for you to put your skills to work. You may always reach back out to me, but it’s time for you to start living your life.” Each goodbyes has set me free, and for that I am grateful. Goodbye, Leah.

Leah Burke· Mar 30, 2026

When You’ve Learned to Second-Guess Yourself, Self-Advocacy Isn’t as Simple as “Speaking Up”

“Advocate for yourself” is common advice. Ask questions. Set boundaries. Tell people what you need. Speak up when something is wrong. On the surface, this seems straightforward. In practice, self-advocacy can be much more complicated, particularly for women who have spent significant periods of their lives learning that speaking up comes with consequences. What happens when asking q

Caroline Fithen, MA· Aug 8, 2026

Article

You Don’t Have to Call It Abuse to Know Something Isn’t Right

There was a long time when I knew something wasn’t right in my relationship without fully understanding what I was experiencing. I knew I didn’t want to be screamed at. I knew being called names wasn’t okay. I knew I shouldn’t be mocked or ridiculed because I didn’t know something, didn’t hear something correctly, or held a different opinion. In the beginning,

Caroline Fithen, MA· Aug 8, 2026

Article

Is Psychodynamic Psychotherapy “Evidence-Based?” What Does “Evidence-Based” Mean?

If you’re looking for a therapist—whether here in Portland or the surrounding areas—you’ve likely come across the term “evidence-based.” It’s used often, but not always explained. What does evidence-based actually mean? Evidence-based treatment means an approach towards mental health care that has been studied using systematic, empirical research. A speci

Laura Birchard MA LPC Depth Psychotherapy· May 2, 2026

The Library

Read all articles

Therapy guides, insurance breakdowns, and clinical thinking from Oregon providers.

View all

Can a Teenager in Oregon Start Therapy Without a Parent's Permission?

In Oregon, a 14-year-old can consent to their own outpatient mental health treatment. That surprises most parents and most teenagers. Here is what the law actually says and how I work with it in practice.

Heather Swaney, MA, LPC· Aug 27, 2026

When should I talk to a therapist about gender identity?

Have you ever wondered if the discontentment or discomfort about your body or perceived identity could be gender dysphoria? For most of us, we are not offered that kind of language or conceptualization to name it for what it is. Before we get into it, let’s differentiate between dysphoria and dysmorphia, two terms I often hear used interchangeably. Dysphoria, typically referring to gender dy

Jaxon Shaffer· Jul 7, 2026

The AI Feature I Chose Not to Build

As a therapist, I have complicated feelings about artificial intelligence. When AI became widely available, I was both fascinated and uneasy. Like a lot of people, I wondered where it would take us. Would it improve people's lives? Replace jobs? Weaken human connection? Change healthcare? I still don't know the answers to most of those questions. What I do know is that while building my app

Soulpath LLC· Jul 8, 2026

What I Learned from Goodbye

The first time the floor fell out from under me, I was only ten years old. My mother died just six months after being diagnosed with cancer, a timeline so fast it felt less like a passing and more like a theft. By the time I got to college, I had already built a personal relationship with depression.So, when my best friend’s brother was shot and killed, it didn't just sadden me—it leveled me. I was trying to cope with my first internship, to maintain friendships, be 21, and graduate college. That family had become my second family, my safety net. When they broke, I broke. I didn’t just fall into a depression; I dove into it, sinking into my bed with my bottles drowning me. Slowly everything I was working towards slipped away. When you’re in that deep, the world shrinks to the size of a liquor bottle and the four walls of a bedroom you can’t bring yourself to leave. My dad’s neighbor, a therapist herself, eventually threw me a rope. She recommended a friend of hers to work with me.For nearly two years, that woman was my entire world. We met weekly, sometimes twice a week. She was there when the addiction took hold, and she was there when things got even darker—after I was sexually assaulted and the depression curdled into suicidal ideation. I was failing every class, a ghost in my own life, only stumbling to the nearest 7-11 or liquor store to refill my cup.She was the one who finally got me into rehab after two different stints in the psych ward. But addiction isn't a straight line. I left rehab early, promising my father I wouldn’t drink for 6 months so I would be able to learn to drink properly afterwards, and graduate college. Upon returning home, my roommates kicked me out of our house after finding me hidden in my closet; high, but not drunk. I didn’t drink for those 6 months, but I didn’t stay clean. I moved into my own apartment where I could hide how bad things really got. I continued to work with my therapist, showing up to our sessions high and not working towards any of the goals we were setting. Somehow, through a haze of survival instinct I didn't know I still had, I managed to graduate. My 6 months of no drinking had finished and against my therapist's advice, I ran. I fled to Mexico. I spent months there, thinking a change of scenery would fix a broken spirit, but I only spiraled further. By the time I touched back down in Oregon, I was desperate. I knew I was dying. I reached out to the one person who had always held the rope for me, expecting her to pull me up again.She said no.She declined to work with me. At the time, it felt like the ultimate betrayal. I had trusted her with the most jagged pieces of my soul, and in my moment of greatest need, she closed the door. She said she couldn’t help me anymore, even if I got sober as she couldn’t trust me. I ended up back in the psych ward shortly after, vibrating from a week of no sleep and a body fueled by nothing but chemicals and alcohol.But that "no" did something "yes" never could. It forced me to realize that no one person could carry me—I had to learn how to stand on my own shaky legs.I was able to find a new therapist. I moved in with my lifelong best friend. I started attending meetings. I learned to ask for help, and hold myself accountable. There wasn’t a choice anymore.Today, I am nearly two years sober. I’ve held the same job for over a year, and I’m in a beautiful, loving relationship. After nearly a year of working with my new therapist she told me something I never thought I would hear, “Leah, I think our work here is done. It’s time for you to put your skills to work. You may always reach back out to me, but it’s time for you to start living your life.” Each goodbyes has set me free, and for that I am grateful. Goodbye, Leah.

Leah Burke· Mar 30, 2026

When You’ve Learned to Second-Guess Yourself, Self-Advocacy Isn’t as Simple as “Speaking Up”

“Advocate for yourself” is common advice. Ask questions. Set boundaries. Tell people what you need. Speak up when something is wrong. On the surface, this seems straightforward. In practice, self-advocacy can be much more complicated, particularly for women who have spent significant periods of their lives learning that speaking up comes with consequences. What happens when asking q

Caroline Fithen, MA· Aug 8, 2026

You Don’t Have to Call It Abuse to Know Something Isn’t Right

There was a long time when I knew something wasn’t right in my relationship without fully understanding what I was experiencing. I knew I didn’t want to be screamed at. I knew being called names wasn’t okay. I knew I shouldn’t be mocked or ridiculed because I didn’t know something, didn’t hear something correctly, or held a different opinion. In the beginning,

Caroline Fithen, MA· Aug 8, 2026

View all articles

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