Therapy didn’t make me a serene, emotionally stable adult. It gave me feelings. All of them. At once. Usually in public. Turns out, awareness isn’t peace—it’s the part before peace, and it’s deeply inconvenient.

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.

Nobody tells you how intimacy changes. Not in the rom-coms. Not in the wedding vows. And definitely not in those “keep the spark alive” c

Silence isn’t always strength. Sometimes, it’s a mask we wear to protect ourselves. But real healing starts when we let ourselves be seen—im