Most of us were not taught how to talk about sex, let alone how to have pleasurable sex. We’re often taught to keep our desires, preferences, and struggles private. Even in long-term relationships, it can feel vulnerable to say, “I want something different,” or “Something isn’t working for me.” However, when we avoid talking about sex, this can sometimes lead to resentment or disconnection from ourselves and our partners. Maybe you’ve wondered why you can love your partner deeply and still struggle with desire, or why arousal feels easy sometimes and impossible at others. If you want things to shift, it can be helpful to understand your accelerators and brakes.

I’ve been doing therapy with folks for years and there are certain phrases that I’ve heard time and time again that are so ubiquitous that I feel the need to write about them. This single phrase has shown up across different clients, relationships, careers, family dynamics, and life decisions. People tend to say it when they’re talking about something that feels hollow or unfulfilling. It might be used to justify a relationship, a job, a home, or some version of the life they thought they wanted.

In the Stone Ages of psychotherapy, it was rare to discuss topics that were considered taboo, such as politics, money, or religion. Thankfully, this is no longer the case — your relationship with money can be a powerful topic to explore in therapy.

 As a therapist, I embrace taboo. Therapy is a space where topics that are often avoided can be given air in a culture that stifles them. Money is not a “gross” or “embarrassing” topic — treating it as such only gives it more control. We all need to interact with money, and for many reasons, these interactions are often stressful, shame-filled, and defeating. Furthermore, there are very real systemic barriers to financial wellness that impact people in major ways that fuel this distress. 

Boundaries are a cornerstone of emotional well-being, yet they are often misunderstood. Setting a boundary isn’t about building walls or shutting people out, it’s about creating clear lines that protect your energy, values, and sense of self. Boundaries are an act of self-respect, allowing us to engage in relationships in ways that feel authentic, sustainable, and mutually respectful. 

Many people come to therapy with the sense that they’ve always had to be “the strong one.” It may be a source of pride and identity, but also lead to exhaustion, resentment, guilt, or anxiety. This “strong one” role often goes unnoticed because people’s lives look stable from the outside. Usually, early in therapy, the childhood experience of parentification comes to light.

Parentification describes when a child is placed in the role of a parent before they are developmentally ready for these responsibilities. While children naturally take on responsibilities as they grow, parentification goes beyond age-appropriate contribution. It requires a child to prioritize the needs of the adults around them while minimizing or suppressing their own.

Most of us are taught that healthy relationships are built on communication, such as using the right words, explaining ourselves clearly, and resolving conflict through conversation. However, while words do matter, they are often not where connection begins. Connection begins in the body with our nervous system. Our nervous system is listening first before meaning is made, intentions are interpreted, or logic is accessed. Your body is trying to answer the question: Am I safe here?

And the answer to that question does not just come from words, it comes from consistency of another person meeting you where you are at in the moment. This is where co-regulation comes in.

Why Co-Regulation Matters in Relationships: The Power of Shared Silence

Most of us are taught that healthy relationships are built on communication, such as using the right words, explaining ourselves clearly, and resolving conflict through conversation. However, while words do matter, they are often not where connection begins. Connection begins in the body with our nervous system. Our nervous system is listening first before meaning is made, intentions are interpreted, or logic is accessed. Your body is trying to answer the question: Am I safe here?

And the answer to that question does not just come from words, it comes from consistency of another person meeting you where you are at in the moment. This is where co-regulation comes in.

Many people come to therapy saying something like, “My childhood wasn’t that bad,” or “Other people had it worse, why am I struggling now?” Downplaying early experiences is incredibly common, especially when stress or conflict were frequent growing up. However, one of the most important discoveries in mental health research is that early adversity influences not just emotional well-being, but physical health as well. These early experiences are known as Adverse Childhood Experiences, or ACEs.

At its core, mindfulness is the practice of paying attention to the present moment, on purpose and without judgment. It’s not about emptying your mind or trying to get rid of unpleasant thoughts and sensations. It’s about noticing what’s happening, both internally and externally, with curiosity rather than criticism. As you practice observing your thoughts, feelings, and sensations without judgment, you’ll notice that, over time, your anxiety gets quieter, you ruminate less frequently, your stress feels more manageable, and you’re able to slow down before reacting to stressful events or conversations. You don’t have to go all-in with lengthy mindfulness meditations; there are lots of ways you can start small, so that implementing a mindfulness practice into your life can be a sustainable habit.

So many people come into therapy carrying a quiet worry that their emotions are “too much.” They wonder why certain feelings come on quickly, why conflict feels overwhelming, or why their nervous system reacts before their mind can catch up. It’s easy to assume that something is wrong with you, that you’re too sensitive, too reactive, or somehow not handling life the way you “should.”

But our emotional worlds don’t develop in isolation. They’re shaped by our histories, our families, our bodies, our past pain, and the environments we’ve learned to adapt to for survival. And for people who have had to navigate life while feeling misunderstood, pressured to stay composed, or expected to manage their emotions for others’ comfort (whether because of personality, upbringing, or aspects of identity) these patterns often run even deeper.

Your emotional responses aren’t character flaws. They’re reflections of what you’ve lived through and how your body has learned to protect you.

Every January, the same message seems to echo everywhere: This is the year. The year you finally get disciplined enough, motivated enough, organized enough. The year you set the goals, stick to them flawlessly, and become a better version of yourself by sheer force of will.

And then, for many people, February arrives.

Coming out later in life is more common than people realize. Many adults spend years, sometimes even decades, suppressing or questioning their sexual orientation or gender identity before finally allowing themselves to explore and embody who they truly are.

There is no “right” timeline for coming out. For many, later-in-life coming out happens after major life transitions: divorce, kids growing up, leaving a religious community, or finally feeling safe enough to ask questions that were once too scary to touch. It can be a long process of first coming out to yourself, then deciding if, when, and how to share this with others in your life.