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 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.

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.

Avoidance doesn’t always look like silence. Sometimes it sounds like insight, humor, and perfectly crafted emotional detours.

A short text message is all it takes to send an overthinker into full psychological meltdown. But maybe—just maybe—it really was just a text

“I’m fine” can mean anything—except fine. Burnout doesn’t always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like showing up, smiling, and falling apa

You hear yourself say it: a phrase straight out of your childhood. Sometimes it’s funny. Sometimes it’s unsettling. But the real power? Choo

You start with a to-do list and end up researching sea otters. Welcome to the ADHD productivity spiral—where guilt, overwhelm, and bursts of

Real healing doesn’t come with a montage. It’s messy, nonlinear, and sometimes invisible. But every small, stubborn choice to keep going? Th

I kept skipping my therapy homework. Not because I didn’t care—but because something in me resisted. When I finally did it, it wasn’t magica