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Terms like trauma, triggered, gaslighting, and toxic have made their way from the therapy room to everyday conversations, TikTok captions, and meme culture. And on one level, that’s a good thing. Language helps us make sense of our experiences. Being able to name patterns like people-pleasing or emotional neglect can bring enormous relief - especially if those patterns were invisible or dismissed in the past. But something else is happening too. These words are starting t

What does therapy really feel like - beyond the clichés and Instagram quotes? This blog explores the emotional texture of therapy: the awkward, the grounding, the unexpected - and why nuance matters in the healing process.

Often, this comes from: Growing up where your needs weren’t voiced or met, so you learned to suppress them Believing love means instinctively knowing what the other person wants Fearing rejection if you’re too direct Feeling unworthy of asking for what you need It’s not that you’re “too needy.” It’s that your nervous system has paired love with silence.

This kind of guilt often shows up when: You set a boundary and someone reacts with disappointment You say no, and the other person tries to convince you you’re selfish Someone uses past sacrifices as leverage for your present choices You feel responsible for someone else’s emotions -when deep down, you know you shouldn’t This isn’t guilt you generated. It’s guilt that’s been projected onto you.

"Why can’t I just say no?” If you’ve asked yourself this, you’re not alone. Saying no can feel heavy, sticky—even impossible. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means at some point, your nervous system learned that saying yes was safer.

“Why didn’t I do something? Why didn’t I say something?” If you’ve ever replayed a difficult moment and asked yourself these questions, you’re not alone. And you didn’t fail. You froze. Freezing isn’t weakness. It isn’t inaction. It’s your body protecting you.

You were never meant to carry the emotional temperature of every room you walk into. You know how to keep the peace. How to say the right thing. How to soothe someone else’s discomfort—even at the cost of your own. You’re tuned in. Responsive. Empathic. And exhausted. If this feels familiar, you’re not alone. And you’re not doing anything wrong. You may have just learned, somewhere along the way, that other people’s feelings were your responsibility. But that comes at a c

You deserved an apology. Maybe more than one. Maybe from someone who pretended nothing happened. Or someone who brushed it off. Or someone who didn’t even notice the hurt they left behind. But the apology never came. And that still hurts.

Awareness is powerful—but it’s not magic. You’ve done the work. You’ve read the books. You’ve gained insight. You know what your patterns are. So why do they still show up? Why are you still people-pleasing? Still avoiding rest? Still getting pulled into the same spirals? If you’ve ever felt the sting of “I should know better by now”—you’re not alone. And you’re not failing. You’re being human.

You know the advice. “Be gentle with yourself.”“Talk to yourself like you would a friend.”“Practice self-compassion.” And yet… something in you resists. You try, but it doesn’t stick. It feels fake. Uncomfortable. Even unsafe. If this sounds familiar, you’re not failing. You’re not broken. You’re likely protecting yourself in the only way you know how.

ou tell yourself:“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”“I’ve dealt with worse.”“There’s nothing to be anxious about.” And still—your heart races. Your stomach flips. You can’t focus. You feel wrong, even when your brain says it’s fine. Sound familiar? If so, you’re not broken. You’re not failing. You’re not weak. You’re just learning that anxiety doesn’t live in logic.

You’re trying to stay calm… But suddenly everything feels too much. Or maybe the opposite—you go numb. Tired. Foggy. Disconnected. You wonder: Why do I freeze like that in conflict? Why can’t I just keep it together? Why do small things suddenly feel huge? There’s a name for this. It’s called your Window of Tolerance.

Sometimes the hardest part of therapy isn’t opening up—it’s the fear that if you do, you’ll be judged. You might wonder: What if it’s too much? What if I don’t make sense? What if they think I’m failing? If that’s you, I want you to know this: I’m not here to judge what you’re carrying. I’m here to hold space for it.

Why everyday awareness matters May is Mental Health Awareness Month—a time when social media, organisations, and workplaces shine a spotlight on emotional wellbeing. And while awareness campaigns can be helpful, there’s also something quietly uncomfortable about the idea that mental health only gets the microphone once a year.

There’s a growing conversation in the therapy world right now—one that makes space for nuance, honesty, and naming what actually happens in the room. And I think that’s a good thing.

We’re often told that rest is good for us. That slowing down is essential.But if you’ve ever tried to actually rest—and ended up feeling more unsettled than calm—you’re not alone. In therapy, I often hear versions of the same thing:“I finally got a moment to myself… and I couldn’t relax.”“I sat down and felt guilty, like I should be doing something.”

Many of us respond to emotional pain by trying to understand it rather than actually feel it. When something hurts, our first instinct might

If you’re someone who pushes through exhaustion, feels guilty for slowing down, or needs to justify time off with productivity—you’re not al

Have you ever caught yourself saying, “Sorry for rambling” or “I know I’m being dramatic” when sharing something important? You’re not alone. So many people—especially those who struggle with low mood, anxiety, or relationship challenges—fear that expressing their emotions will make them a burden.

Let’s be honest — it’s entirely possible to look like you’re holding it all together while feeling like you’re barely keeping your head above water.