Mary Vicario, a Catalyst for Healing
On the cool yet sunny afternoon in late November, I had the immense privilege of interviewing Mary Vicario, LPCC-S, at Cincinnati’s iconic Union Terminal. We discovered a cozy nook within the terminal – a fitting backdrop for a conversation that revealed the deep personal significance this historic landmark holds for Mary. Union Terminal connects her to cherished childhood memories and the people who inspire and shape her extraordinary work to this day.
Mary is the human manifestation of kindness, a catalyst for healing and a haven of safety for those around her. As a licensed clinical counselor, certified trauma specialist, and founder of Finding Hope Consulting, Mary’s work is deeply rooted in community building, making the neuroscience of trauma accessible and helping others build resilience and stability.
Interview by Cathryn Schehr.
Photography by Stacy Wegley.
Can you talk a little bit about how your childhood and young adulthood influenced your studies in college and your early career?
From a young age, my path seemed clear. My father always told me I was going to be a teacher. For him, his first experience of safety and kindness came from educators. He believed they were the bravest, greatest, most amazing people on earth. "That's what you'll be," he would say. And so, I believed him.
I started my journey at Edgecliff [College] in 1979, and when Xavier University acquired it in 1980, I continued there, pursuing a double major in elementary education and Montessori education. My student teaching took place in a Montessori public school, and the experience was both formative and eye-opening.
These experiences fundamentally shaped my commitment to fostering resilience in others. It’s not just about understanding the neuroscience of trauma – it’s about understanding the power of connection and the human capacity to heal. This belief followed me into the classroom when I became a second-grade teacher. I may not have had the most patience, but I could get kids excited about learning!
In 1984, with Michael Jackson and Prince at the height of their fame, I built my classroom environment around them. One bulletin board was dedicated to Michael, the other to Prince. Their words inspired our daily lessons – especially Prince’s quote, "Children imitate their atmosphere." That phrase became our guiding principle: What kind of atmosphere do we want to create? How do we make this a safe place?
When I transitioned to public schools, I carried that same ethos with me. I would remind students that our classroom was a sanctuary. I wasn’t interested in creating a classroom where students behaved out of fear – I wanted to foster a space where they acted out of a shared commitment to safety and respect. It was my father’s lesson coming full circle.
Over time, my desire to better understand and support my students led me back to school for a degree in counseling. I wanted to study something that focused not on "What’s wrong with you?" but on "What did you do to survive, and how can we find resilience in that?" Xavier’s counseling program embodied this perspective, emphasizing how life experiences – no matter how painful – can become the foundation for growth and healing.
This focus on resilience eventually led me to specialize in working with children – particularly those aged two to ten who were survivors of sexual abuse. Inspired by my love for Maria Montessori’s approach, I became a non-directive play therapist, allowing children to express and reveal their inner worlds through play. My supervisor, a brilliant woman in her 70s who had trained under pioneers like Clark Moustakas, became an invaluable guide. When she retired, she handed me a piece of paper that read "Learning from Women" – a program at Harvard Medical School. She told me, "This is going to be your retirement gift to me. I need someone to translate this work for children, and you’re a great translator." It took me two years to save the money to attend, but when I did, it changed everything.
We heal in relationship with others. I began applying these insights to my play therapy practice, asking how we could help children develop the resilience to speak their truth and find safety. When I train others now, I hold a clear philosophy: I will never present the hard truths of trauma without also offering the hope of resilience. People deserve to know not just what trauma does to the brain and body, but also what can be done to heal. Humans are profoundly resilient and deeply interconnected. The neuroscience is clear: we are hardwired for connection. Acts of kindness don’t just benefit others – they nourish us, releasing dopamine and reinforcing our ability to keep going.
When I reflect on my father’s legacy, I see how it has shaped every facet of my work. His lessons on compassion, justice, and the importance of caring for the most vulnerable continue to guide me.
Could you talk about a significant accomplishment in your work, or one you think that's still to come in the future?
One of the accomplishments I'm most grateful for is seeing how others use my work in ways I never could have imagined. People have applied my interventions to develop community programs, support survivors of human trafficking, and assist trans people in prison. It's incredible to see these concepts making a real difference.
A particularly meaningful example comes from my friend Jane, who is from the Ojibwe nation. She adapted my Fear Cascade model – a framework that maps the body's response to stress through connection, flight, fight, freeze, and submit – into a tool for preschoolers. Using a clear shower curtain, she illustrated the fear cascade with activities to guide children from unsafe reactions to safe ones. Depending on how the children felt – whether they craved connection, needed to release energy, or felt frozen – they would sit in a corresponding area. On the other side, there were safe ways to address those feelings, allowing the children to gradually move toward a 'flock' state, where they could invite connection again. It was a brilliant, tangible way to help children regulate their emotions – something I never would have thought of myself.
What excites me most is when people come to me with new challenges and ideas. The human experience is universal, so the tools I teach can be adapted anywhere people are present. My work is rooted in synthesizing opposing perspectives – a skill I credit to my parents, who held very different worldviews. This ability to hold and integrate multiple truths allows me to create spaces where others can explore safely.
As Judith Jordan reminds me, I am a synthesizer – someone who pulls together different ideas and experiences to create new possibilities. This concept extends to what I call a 'safe flock,' where people can hold opposing views while working toward a fuller understanding of the world. If we shift from labeling things as 'right or wrong' to 'safe or unsafe,' it opens up space for dialogue and critical thinking. My father taught me that dangerous systems, like those behind historical atrocities, rely on stripping people of their ability to think. My mission is to help others stay curious, keep expanding, and continue thinking – because when you engage your whole brain through curiosity, you tap into the most human parts of yourself.
Have the challenges in your work changed since you first started? What kinds of challenges are you still facing while studying and working in that environment?
I learned that to create change, we had to educate people past their fear. My supervisor often reminded me that hurtful people aren't just ignorant – they're afraid. And you can't win a power struggle with a judge; instead, you have to educate them beyond their fear. This approach required patience, but it was essential.
This realization led me to develop what I call "Reflect, Honor, and Connect." I reflect back what I've heard – not to agree, but to acknowledge their courage in sharing it. I honor their perspective by recognizing its value, even if it differs from my own. Then, I present my viewpoint while remaining open to other possibilities, encouraging a dialogue rather than a battle over who's right or wrong.
It reminds me of the ancient proverb about blind men describing an elephant – each touches a different part and forms a completely different conclusion. Only by combining those perspectives do we understand the whole picture. This mindset – of curiosity and openness – has guided my work and helped me bridge gaps where fear and misunderstanding once stood.
Can you tell me how your experience created and informs the Tristate Trauma Network?
At some point during my training, I learned about a concept from Dr. Julie Gentile that really clicked for me. This concept was about how kids think at different developmental stages – between ages two and six, they’re in what’s called preoperational thought. From six to ten, they’re in concrete operational thought. It wasn’t entirely new to me – I already knew about concrete operational thought from my Montessori days – but Dr. Gentile took it a step further. She explained that a mild intellectual disability mirrors concrete operational thought, and a moderate intellectual disability reflects preoperational thought. And with this, she said something that stuck with me – autism is also concrete operational thought, just with a different depth of knowledge. So, if I wanted to reach people, I had to meet their brains where they were.
And that became a theme for me – how do I translate complicated science into something people can actually use? That’s where the Tristate Trauma Network comes in. We started it because we were getting so frustrated with how many of the interventions out there, the ones that were considered “effective,” were just about getting people to submit. And sure, on paper, that looks like a win. But in reality? One step up from submission is fight. And we saw the people we serve get stuck in this loop – submit, fight, submit, fight – and no one was getting anywhere.
I remember Bessel van der Kolk once said: “If we were as obsessed with efficacy back when antibiotics were invented as we are now, we’d only have penicillin.” And that’s what we wanted – we wanted to go beyond penicillin. We wanted something more comprehensive, something that actually worked for the people we serve. We wanted to do something bigger – something that didn’t just focus on compliance but actually addressed the root of trauma and how the brain and body respond to it. And to do that, we had to step outside the traditional framework.
We found Melissa Adamchik – who’s just amazing – and she breathed so much life into the Tristate Trauma Network. Under her leadership, it grew beyond just therapists or children’s services workers. Now it’s for educators, first responders, healthcare workers – people who interact with trauma across all fields. And then Brad [McClain] came on board and helped us expand beyond our little tri-state bubble. That’s how my trauma-responsive care certification series was born, and it’s been incredible to see it grow and reach more audiences. The network is still so close to my heart – I believe it’s got legs, and I hope it just keeps running.
I also wanted to ask you about the trauma-informed biographical timelines. Anything you would like to share, I would love to hear!
The trauma-informed biographical timeline expanded through the work at the Tristate Trauma Network, but this concept first started back in 1999 when I was working at this agency – first, it was called Creative Connections, and then Hamilton Choices bought us out. I was the clinical manager, and we were working with these kids who crossed multiple systems – mental health, developmental disabilities, juvenile court, children’s services. These systems would usually fight over the kids – for example, if they’re in the custody of children’s services, they can’t have developmental disabilities services. It was a nightmare. But Hamilton County did something incredible – they pooled their money and gave us the 300 most complex cases. These kids were in at least two systems, and most of them crossed three or four, some even all five.
So every couple of weeks, people would present these cases to me. And I’m sitting there, listening to people’s entire lives being read from a file. And these people – they cared, they really did – but the kids? They became a checklist of problems. I wanted to change that. I wanted people to feel the humanity behind these stories. So I started talking with Maureen Walker about creating a timeline, and she gave me this brilliant idea – using an actual line called a “line of privilege.”
Above this line of privilege, we’d write things that made life easier. Below the line, we’d write the hard stuff – the things that made life more challenging.
Then, I started layering in what I knew about trauma science, and I wrote in red the experiences we know change the shape and function of the brain and body. The brainstem only recognizes two colors: red and black; while black is grounding, red is a warning. You feel red in your body.
And to make it more personal, I’d then ask – “What’s their favorite color?” Because this isn’t a case file – it’s a person. So above the line, in their favorite color, we’d then track the things that built resilience.
Over time, we added more layers. I’d ask people – “What did it feel like to live through this?” And then – “What might this person need?” Because if you don’t feel it, you can’t really understand it.
And then I came across this study on bullying that changed everything. It found that when someone is being hurt, the people most likely to intervene are the ones who can name how they personally feel the moment they see someone hurt. So when people read a timeline, I add a new column where everyone names one feeling they’re experiencing while reading it.
And there are three reasons for that: First, our mirror neurons – if I’m feeling it, this child has probably felt it too. Second, like Dan Siegel says – “If you can name it, you can tame it.” If we don’t name our frustration or sadness, it just lives in the lower regions of our brain, driving our actions without us even realizing it. Third, when we name what we feel, we can actually start to change how we show up and interact with the people we serve.
This work has expanded in ways I never imagined. A woman named Megan Mattimoe from Toledo reached out and asked to use the biographical timeline for human trafficking survivors. For the past ten years, it’s even been written up for the Department of Justice. It’s humbling to see how far it’s come and how many people it’s touched.
At the core of everything I do is this belief: people’s survival strategies make sense. If someone is using an indirect way to get their needs met, it’s because that worked for them in the past. And I don’t need to pathologize it – I just need to help them find a new way to function in the here and now.
And science backs this up. When you validate someone’s survival skills – when you say, “I see how this kept you alive,” – it actually releases the trauma memory from those lower brain regions. Suddenly, you can work with it in the thinking brain. That’s the hidden resilience behind behaviors like aggression – it’s a drive for justice. And if we can channel that drive safely, it changes everything.
If I could give the world one message, it would be this: Our diversity is a resource, not a threat. The more flexible we are, the better we can engage with differences. It’s not just a nice idea – it’s survival. From single-celled organisms to modern humans, the systems that reject diversity don’t make it. They die out. But when we stay curious – when we ask open-ended questions like, “How can we engage this diversity as a resource?” – our thinking brain comes online. And that’s what will allow us to survive and thrive together.
What does the future look like for you? Do you have any specific goals or even just personal development separate from your work?
I do – I actually keep a list on my phone. One of my biggest goals is to keep learning and applying this work to larger and larger audiences. I’m planning to launch my first solo trauma-responsive care certification series and promote it through Eventbrite.
I often joke that my science is the Disney version – I like to break it down in a way that makes sense to my concrete brain. My friend Dr. Amy Banks likes to tease me about being reductionistic, and she's right. Because I can’t teach a four-year-old what she’s teaching at Harvard Medical School – but that child can understand how their brain works. They can sit on a shower curtain that maps their emotional state and engage in an activity to calm their HPA axis [The hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis; a communication system crucial to the body’s stress management]. They don’t need to know what it’s called for it to help them.
That’s what drives me – it’s a challenge I love. How can I make healing information accessible so people can understand how their brain and body work, and how others do, too?
Our final question is, who is a woman or gender expansive person that has impacted your life or inspired you?
Throughout my life, I've been deeply shaped by the incredible women who've come before me, whether by blood or by spirit. Dr. Rae Elizabeth Hartman, my mother’s best friend in high school, became a second mother to me. Offering me the nurturing guidance I would carry with me for years. But she wasn't the only one – there was also my kindergarten teacher, who saw something in me before anyone else did, and the women at the Jean Baker Miller Stone Center who helped me find my voice and understand my place in the world.
From Jean Baker Miller to Judith Jordan, Amy Banks to Maureen Walker – these women have stood up and spoken truth. Judith Lewis Herman’s words and Wendy D'Andrea’s work with trauma have all served as beacons.
Then there’s Bessie Coleman – one of my greatest inspirations. I found not just strength, but a relentless drive to redefine what it means to be free. They soared, quite literally, when no one believed they could.
And today, as I stand here, I think of the amazing women in my life who continue to break barriers. I think of all the stories we are reshaping together, those we share with dignity, and the spaces we create to uplift each other. It’s a privilege to be part of this tapestry of strength, resilience, and joy.
These stories, of women lifting up other women, have fed my soul, just as they’ve fed the souls of so many others. And in my own moments of challenge, when I felt like I didn’t fit in, like I didn’t belong, I held onto Harriet Tubman, Nefertiti, Josephine Baker and all those remarkable women who came before me. They gave me the courage to keep moving forward, to push past the walls that tried to box me in. And today, I carry their lessons, their wisdom, and their courage with me, as I step into the future, ready to face whatever comes next.