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.

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

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

Intimacy doesn’t disappear—it evolves. Love looks different over time, and that’s not failure. That’s how you know it’s real.

Nobody tells you how intimacy changes. Not in the rom-coms or wedding vows. But real intimacy shifts over time—and that’s not failure, it’s

Sometimes the loudest moments in therapy are the silent ones. A pause. A mirror. A truth you can’t un-hear—and don’t want to.

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

Therapy isn’t a straight path to your best self—it’s a tangled, messy trail full of setbacks, realizations, and slow progress. That’s not fa

Saying “I need help” isn’t weakness—it’s strength. It’s the first terrifying, powerful step toward healing.

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

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