I used to think saying “no” required a detailed explanation. Now I know better: people who respect your boundaries don’t need a backstory. “No” is a full sentence—and it doesn’t need a footnote.

Not all boundary violations are dramatic. Sometimes they look like saying “I’m fine” when you’re not, or agreeing to things that drain you. But those small betrayals add up—and you deserve better than a life lived in quiet resentment.

I used to think staying calm meant I was in control. But what I was really doing was dissociating. Emotional regulation isn’t silence—it’s learning how to feel safely, stay present, and respond with intention.

I used to think I had an anger problem. Turns out, I just needed a sandwich. Emotional regulation isn’t always deep inner work—sometimes it’s remembering to eat, rest, and stop white-knuckling your way through the day.

Shame doesn’t yell—it whispers. It rewrites how you see yourself and convinces you that struggling means you’re defective. But shame isn’t a flaw. It’s a defense. And healing starts by choosing something kinder in response.

I spent years thinking I was lazy, broken, or just not trying hard enough. Turns out, I wasn’t defective—I was carrying shame. Once I could name it, everything started to change.

Therapy didn’t just help me grow—it made some of my favorite coping strategies unusable. Detached humor, emotional shutdown, overworking? They don’t work like they used to. And weirdly, that’s how I knew the work was working.

Burnout doesn’t always come with sirens. Sometimes it just feels like you're tired, distant, and disconnected—and you keep pushing anyway. R

Sometimes saying too much in therapy feels like a mistake—until you realize it’s the beginning of real healing.

You can be frustrated with your kid and still love them like crazy. That’s parenting. That’s being human. That’s real.

Being the “stable one” sounds noble, but it’s exhausting. You’re allowed to ask for help, too.