Tag: healing journey
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This is something I think about more than I probably should. There is not one version of you walking around in the world. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, scattered across conversations you don’t remember, moments you didn’t realize were pivotal, and people who walked away long before you ever felt finished becoming. The You That…
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Resolutions for 2026 The Year I Actually Have Something to “Resolve” Every year I make the same joke: my resolution is to lose weight, then I shrug dramatically, mutter “ope,” and declare I’ll try again next year once it inevitably fizzles out by the seventh sunrise. But this year?This year I hit the damn goal.The…
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The One Where I Finally Stopped Settling for “Good Enough” Dave still says therapy doesn’t work for him.But here’s the thing — therapy works. He just hasn’t found the right therapist. And honestly? It took me years—and seven therapists—to find mine. The first one talked more than I did.The second gave me whiplash — one…
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When Survival Mode Becomes the Default During a therapy session, I was telling my therapist all the things I’ve been doing to make sure the girls feel safe and secure through all this chaos—because, as always, they’re my #1 priority. She took a pause, then asked:“But how are you holding up?” And I froze. Because…
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Cracks in the Same Glass Some people fall apart over things you’ve survived a hundred times.That doesn’t make them weak.It makes them human. We all have different emotional thresholds—different “maximum load” signs hanging somewhere deep inside us, whether we know it or not. What barely phases one person might wreck another.What destroys you might roll…
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The Illusion of Shared Memory It’s wild how two people can live through the same exact moment and walk away holding completely different stories.Like some emotional Choose Your Own Adventure—except nobody’s choosing, and everyone’s crying by chapter three. We assume shared experience means shared understanding.But it doesn’t.It just means we stood in the same storm…
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The Town That Still Knows My Name I live in a ghost town. Not the kind with boarded windows and dust in the corners, but one haunted by memory. Every street, every cracked sidewalk, every flickering porch light carries a version of me I didn’t mean to leave behind.The memories hit hard and without my…