One of the most misunderstood concepts in contemporary therapy culture is boundaries. Everyone talks about them, books are written about them, social media is full of boundary-setting advice. But much of what gets called "boundary-setting" is actually something else entirely—and the confusion causes real problems in relationships.

In North American media and leadership culture, we face a profound representation gap—one that doesn't just shape what we watch or who we vote for, but fundamentally impacts how we understand ourselves and relate to others.

You've been in therapy. You've done the work. You've developed healthier boundaries, better communication skills, and stronger emotional regulation. You've processed trauma, understood your patterns, and genuinely changed how you show up in your life. You feel good about your growth—proud, even. And then you arrive at the house where your family is for the holidays. Within hours, you're: Reverting to childhood defence mechanisms you thought you'd outgrown Feeling emotions wit

One of the most common struggles I see in therapy, particularly with clients who experienced attachment trauma, is the question: "How do I know what's good enough?" This seemingly simple question touches something profound—the difficulty of developing your own internal compass for evaluating your life, relationships, accomplishments, and self-worth when your early experiences didn't provide a reliable foundation for knowing what you deserve or what's reasonable to expect. If

The term "gaslighting" has become ubiquitous in recent years, appearing in conversations about everything from romantic relationships to workplace dynamics to political discourse. But as the term has gained popularity, its meaning has become diluted and distorted. People now use "gaslighting" to describe any disagreement, misunderstanding, or instance of someone being wrong—watering down a term that describes a specific and psychologically damaging pattern of behaviour.

We live in a culture that sends deeply conflicting messages about emotions. On one hand, we're told to "follow our hearts" and "trust our feelings." On the other, we're praised for being "rational," "logical," and "in control" of our emotions—as if emotions are wild animals that need taming or inconvenient impulses to be managed and suppressed.

Parts work—the practice of identifying, dialoguing with, and healing these different aspects of ourselves—has a rich history across multiple therapeutic traditions.

Therapy is one of the most personal and significant investments you can make in yourself, but it's not always a straightforward journey.

If you've ever found yourself analyzing your emotions rather than feeling them, explaining your inner experience rather than experiencing it, or understanding your patterns without actually changing them, you're not alone.

Traditional couples therapy often focuses on teaching communication skills, helping partners understand each other's perspectives, or negotiating compromises. While these approaches can be helpful, they often address symptoms rather than the deeper relational wounds that drive relationship distress.

Traditional therapy often focuses on managing symptoms or developing coping strategies—learning to live with anxiety, depression, or relationship difficulties. But what if there was a way to actually transform the underlying emotional learnings that drive these struggles?

We live in a culture that often treats emotions as inconveniences—things to be managed, suppressed, or overcome. We praise people for being "rational" and "logical," while emotional responses are often seen as weakness or poor self-control. But what if this entire framework is backwards?

Boundaries are one of the most misunderstood concepts in relationships and personal development. While the term gets thrown around frequently in therapy circles and self-help content, many people struggle to understand what boundaries actually are, how they work, and why they're essential for healthy relationships and personal well-being.

Parental estrangement—when adult children significantly limit or cut off contact with their parents—has become increasingly common in...

When searching for a therapist, it's natural to focus on credentials, specializations, and years of experience. These factors matter, but...

Many high-functioning adults struggle with a particular kind of inner conflict: they know something was missing from their childhood, yet they feel guilty for acknowledging it. After all, their parents weren't abusive monsters. They were just... absent. Emotionally unavailable. Overwhelmed. Doing their best with what they had.

In recent years, the word "trauma" has become increasingly common in everyday conversation, social media, and popular psychology. While this increased awareness has helped reduce stigma around mental health, it has also led to some confusion about what trauma actually means from a clinical perspective.

Guilt might be one of the most misunderstood emotions in the human experience. We treat it like a houseguest that overstays its welcome, when in reality, guilt is more like a smoke detector—incredibly useful when there's actually a fire, but absolutely maddening when it keeps going off because you burned toast.

Picture this: You're sitting in a therapy session, trying to explain why you feel so disconnected from yourself and others, why you struggle with relationships, or why you can't seem to trust your own emotions. Your therapist asks about your childhood, and you shrug. "It was fine," you say. "Nothing really bad happened. My parents weren't abusive or anything." And that's exactly the problem.

When faced with perceived danger, our nervous system has four primary responses that have kept humans alive for millennia: Fight, Flight, Freeze, and Fawn.