My Blog

Most parents don’t talk about how exhausting co parenting really is. They talk about logistics. Schedules. Holidays. Pick up times. Drop off locations. But what rarely gets named is the emotional labor underneath it all, the constant monitoring, the internal calculations, the way your body braces before every interaction. For many parents, co parenting doesn’t feel collaborative. It feels tense. Fragile. Like one wrong word could turn into a conflict that lingers for days. An

I didn’t come to this work because I thought I had all the answers. I came to it because I spent a long time living inside questions no one seemed able to hear. Long before I became a therapist, I was a kid trying to understand why my body felt unsafe when nothing “bad” was happening. Why my thoughts raced at night. Why I felt too much, or sometimes nothing at all. Why I could look fine on the outside while quietly falling apart on the inside. Those early experiences shaped m

There’s a particular kind of sadness that shows up during the holidays, one that doesn’t always have a clear name. It’s not always grief, and it’s not always depression. Sometimes it’s just a quiet heaviness that settles in while everyone else seems to be celebrating. You notice it when the music feels too loud. When the lights feel overwhelming instead of cozy. When “Shouldn’t I be happier right now?” starts echoing in your head. The holidays come with an unspoken expectatio

Yesterday, I had a panic attack. Not the kind that rises, peaks, and dissolves with a few grounding skills and a glass of water.Not the kind I’ve learned to manage over the last five years with medication, breathing techniques, and the entire toolbox I teach my clients. This one was different. It was hours long.It was unresponsive to every strategy I reached for.It left me convinced, for a moment, that something was medically wrong. Heart wrong. Body wrong. Life-threatening

It doesn’t happen all at once. Burnout is sneaky like that. It starts quietly, the kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix, the sigh you let out before opening another email, the way your coffee cup sits in your hand a little longer each morning because you need just one more minute before pretending you’re okay. People think burnout means collapse. But more often, it means continuing. It’s the version of you that keeps showing up, keeps helping, keeps saying, “I’m fine,” becaus

There’s a silence that follows service, one that few outside the military understand. For some, it’s the echo of things seen and done. For others, it’s the quiet ache of everything that never  happened, the deployments that didn’t come, the guilt of returning unscarred when others didn’t return at all. People imagine trauma only in explosions and gunfire. But sometimes it’s built from smaller things: the constant readiness, the pressure to never falter, the way you start to m