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.

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.

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.

I find it genuinely insulting how much sleep humans need. The wellness checklist always starts off reasonable: eat healthy, drink water, exercise, nurture your relationships… but the moment some professional casually tacks on, “Oh, and get an amazing, uninterrupted, eight hours of sleep per night,” I feel my body tense, a reaction I get when I feel the need to defend myself. Did an alien who has never struggled to fall asleep write this list? Can we get some empathy on this one, please? We have endless data and articles reminding us about how important sleep is, but when it comes to realistic ways to actually fall asleep… crickets. Which is ironic, because that sound would probably knock half of us out cold.

Defining Neurodivergence & Neurodiversity

Neurodivergence is a broad term that encapsulates a range of identities such as autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyscalculia, and other cognitive or sensory differences. We live in a world that is largely designed for neurotypical people, and the needs of people who are neurodivergent are often not considered. Yet neurodivergent people are expected to meet neurotypical standards, which can be the source of a lot of suffering.  

Neurodiversity is a term that reflects the idea that there is no one “normal” or “right” way to think, learn, or process information. Importantly, neurodiversity isn’t only about diagnostic labels; it’s also about rejecting ableist assumptions about what it means to be “functional,” “social,” or “successful.” Diversity in neurological wiring, like diversity in culture, gender, or other forms of identity, is a vital and valuable part of humanity. 

Expectations are woven into our lives from an early age. Some are spoken outright – what it means to succeed, belong, or thrive. Others are unspoken but deeply felt, tied to our identities and shaped by the cultural, societal, and familial worlds we inhabit. From a young age, we may internalize messages about what it means to be “good enough,” “smart enough,” or “acceptable,” often without even realizing it. These messages can influence how we think, act, and feel about ourselves for years to come.

Perfection often feels like the standard we should strive for: a life without mistakes, flaws, or failures. But the pursuit of perfection can be exhausting, isolating, and ultimately unattainable. It’s a standard that keeps us from appreciating the growth, connection, and creativity that come from being imperfectly human.

Embracing imperfection means shifting how we see ourselves and our experiences. Instead of viewing flaws as failures, we can recognize them as opportunities. It’s about letting go of the pressure to have it all together and finding strength in vulnerability and authenticity.

When someone we care about is struggling, we usually know how to respond: with patience, encouragement, and understanding. But when it’s us facing a challenge, many of us default to

self-criticism, judgment, or pressure. Self-compassion is the practice of treating yourself with the same kindness and care you would offer a friend, and it can gently transform the way we cope with life’s difficulties.

When we think of meditation, we often envision complete stillness—eyes closed, legs crossed, and minds emptied of thought. But this perspective overlooks a vital truth: meditation isn’t about “just doing nothing”. It’s about doing one thing with full presence. For those who find traditional seated meditation difficult or uninspiring, active meditation offers a dynamic and equally effective alternative. By engaging the body and the senses, these practices ground us in the present moment—without requiring us to sit still.