Welcome to Mended Feather
Dawn’s Journey
Welcome to Mended Feather! We’re truly grateful you’ve found your way here. This is more than just a website—it’s a sanctuary. A place where you are invited to slow down, reflect, and rediscover your inner strength. Whether you’re at the beginning of your healing journey or simply seeking a space to grow, you’re welcome here. All of you are welcome here.
I’m Dr. Dawn Emmett Bishop—though most just call me Dr. Dawn—and I’m so honored to be part of this space with you. Not everyone gets to say they love what they do, but I truly do. My fascination with human behavior and the workings of the mind started early. My mom, a lifelong teacher, fed that curiosity and always supported my love for psychology. I’ve always known that my mission in life is to understand the human spirit and to help others navigate their healing paths.
But the road hasn’t been easy.
It took nearly 20 years from the start of my Ph.D. program to full licensure—two decades marked by raising three incredible boys, surviving a divorce, navigating the complexities of a blended family after re-marrying (up and coming blog), mourning the loss of my brother Phil, and pushing through more setbacks than I can count.
Many nights, I’d tuck my boys into bed, then sit alone, crying over assignments—overwhelmed by guilt that I wasn’t doing enough. Not for them. Not for school. Not for anyone, at least that what it felt like. But I know now I wasn’t alone. That ache, that tension between caregiving and self-advancement, is something so many working moms carry. It’s the quiet, often invisible struggle behind the degrees, the credentials, the perseverance.
During those hard years, one dream kept me going: creating a retreat space. A space where people could step away from their daily lives, reflect deeply, and do the healing work they so often put off. Life is hard. We all carry trauma—whether diagnosed or not—and too many of us try to show up for others while running on emotional “flat tires.”
One of my deepest wounds is the loss of my brother Phil. He was my first friend in life, two years younger than me, and a firefighter captain who passed unexpectedly at 42. Just before he died, we’d had a heart-to-heart about his anxiety, and we came to the conclusion that he was struggling with PTSD. At the time, PTSD wasn’t something many first responders talked about. But I know Phil would want his story shared—to normalize those conversations and to advocate for the mental health of first responders. They’re not robots; they’re human.
After Phil’s death, something shifted. More and more first responders with PTSD began to appear in my practice—divinely placed, I believe. And then came the feathers. Feathers in unexpected places. Signs, to me, that my brother was near—and that he was gently nudging me toward building the healing retreat we’d once dreamed about.
That dream became a vision. And that vision became Mended Feather. As I write this with tears streaming down my face, with his picture to the left, I am in awe of this journey, and the hope it will bring to so many because of his journey.
But here’s the beautiful part—I didn’t do it alone. During one of my classic licensing-exam-procrastination-daydreaming sessions, I heard a whisper: You can’t do this alone. I immediately thought of my wise and soulful friend Jennifer Heward. We’ve spent countless hours talking about growth, healing, and all things spiritual. I called her up (instead of studying—again), and from there, Mended Feather started to take flight. Together, we invited three more women—each powerful, gifted, and aligned—and the heart of Mended Feather was born.
Every woman involved in this project was meant to be here. Each brings her own story, wisdom, and healing gifts. I can’t wait for you to meet them.
You’ll notice green and feathers throughout our branding—those are quiet nods to Phil. Green was his favorite color, and feathers are the symbols I continue to find—signs that he’s still guiding me, guiding us.
Thank you for being here. We’re honored to walk with you.
With love and hope,
Dr. Dawn