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.

Asexuality is often described as experiencing a lack of or limited sexual attraction to others. For some people, this looks like having little or no desire to engage in sex. For others, sex may still be enjoyable or meaningful, just not because of sexual attraction. Like all orientations, asexuality is about internal experience, not behavior. Many ace people have sex, and many don’t; what makes someone asexual is that they identify as such.

If you’ve ever been told you might have a personality disorder (or wondered if a family member, partner, or friend might) you probably know how heavy that can feel. For many people, those words carry shame, fear, or confusion — as if something deep inside is “wrong” or unchangeable. This is certainly the lens taken by most media; how often are we shown villains with borderline or paranoid personality disorders? But the truth is, our understanding of personality has come a long way.

The holiday season is often portrayed as a time of warmth, connection, and celebration. Everywhere we turn, we’re met with images of cozy gatherings, sparkling lights, and the expectation that this time of year should feel joyful. But for many people, the holidays bring something very different: grief, in all its complexity.

EMDR is an evidence-based therapeutic approach that helps people process traumatic memories. It involves bilateral stimulation, which is a fancy way of saying it involves gentle back-and-forth movements. This might look like small hand buzzers that buzz back-and-forth between each hand, or a light bar moving side-to-side while a person tracks it with their eyes. This bilateral stimulation helps people reprocess the experience and can provide a release from the emotional grip of this distressing memory.

Oftentimes, trauma symptoms show up unexpectedly. You might be strolling through a park or walking through the grocery store and suddenly feel like you’re back in the moment where something awful happened. Your heart races, your chest tightens, and your body reacts as if you’re in danger again. You might even feel like you are the age when the traumatic experience happened, even if it’s been decades since.

When we talk about trauma (both in and out of mental health settings), we often focus on what is lost or diminished — our sense of safety, confidence, and control. This is understandable because trauma often shakes the very foundation of who we are. However, over time and with support, another outcome is possible. Alongside the suffering, growth can occur.