I have spent my career on one question: what does this patient have, underneath the diagnosis?

I’m a board-certified psychiatrist, neuroscientist, and clinical researcher, trained at the National Institute of Mental Health, the University of Pennsylvania, and Mount Sinai. I practice psychiatry in New York City.

My patients’ histories rarely arrived as a clean diagnostic story. Symptoms and labels piled up, and the pattern underneath could take years to surface, even when the information was already there in a history, a family story, and a treatment record no one had put together.

Seeing that pattern early is what a psychiatrist trains for years to do: noticing which combinations deserve attention, and catching the moment ordinary-looking depression stops behaving like ordinary depression.

In our pilot practices, much of my work is translation. The physicians know their patients deeply, often over years. I read what the intake surfaces and tell them plainly what it means for the patient in front of them, the way I would for a colleague. The diagnosis and every decision stay with them.

I also know this as the child of a mother who carried the wrong diagnosis for years, and I saw what those years cost.

Singula is where that work goes now: a specialist’s pattern recognition, in the room where most of these decisions are made.