Who Are You, Really?
Most of us have been taught to define ourselves by what we do, not who we are. In this reflection, I explore what it means to move beyond roles and achievements to uncover the deeper truths that live beneath the surface—the parts of ourselves that long to be seen, trusted, and understood.
The Paradox of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD)
I’ve heard people say things in therapy that most would never dare to admit out loud. When someone whispers, “I wish my parents would die,” I don’t hear cruelty — I hear pain that has nowhere else to go. Complex PTSD isn’t about one traumatic event. It’s about growing up in an environment where love and fear coexist, where safety was never guaranteed. This piece explores what it means to live with that contradiction — to crave closeness while fearing it, to long for healing while still carrying the weight of survival.
The Weight We Give to Friendship
I’ve always felt delicate when it comes to friendships — about who I call a friend and who I allow into that space. Over time, I’ve realized the qualities I seek aren’t just preferences, they’re what my nervous system requires to feel safe: honesty, accountability, and a willingness to move through hard things together. Wanting that kind of depth and loyalty isn’t asking for too much — it’s asking for what makes a real connection possible.
The Small Glimmer of Resistance
Sometimes healing begins in the most uncomfortable places — in that sharp flicker of resistance when someone challenges the way we’ve always seen ourselves or the world. I call it the small glimmer of “fuck you.” It’s not cruelty, but disruption, and often it’s the first crack in the walls we’ve built around our lives.
On the Obsession with Progress
I’ve noticed how often we measure ourselves against an invisible standard of “progress.” Patients worry they’re not changing fast enough, or that circling the same themes means they’re failing. But therapy isn’t a straight climb upward. Growth is messy, cyclical, and often quiet. What looks like stasis is sometimes deep integration. Repetition isn’t failure—it’s how we turn experience into meaning.
I Am Not Separate From This Work
Being a therapist doesn’t mean I have it all figured out. I walk through the same fire as those I sit with—grief, doubt, fear, love, and resilience. This work doesn’t put me above anyone; it transforms me alongside them.
