I recently read a post here on Substack where the author wrote about Autism, the evolution of the diagnosis and the influence of pop culture on the diagnosis. I was drawn to the article as I was curious about the evolution of the diagnosis myself, having been diagnosed later in life.

I made some assumptions perhaps of what I might take away from the article. The article itself quickly devolved into describing how pop psychology culture and social media have taken the diagnosis too far, and that not everyone who claims to be autistic is “actually autistic”. I tried to stay curious because I believe autism is a spectrum. But it felt that quickly that the article was trying to persuade readers that there are people who are not “autistic enough”. While those that “actually” suffer, by ways of needing significant support or resources or are unable to be independent in our society, are the ones who deserve the label.

I certainly understand that autistic folks experience the world differently. And perhaps since the diagnosis expanded to include what was previously Asperger’s syndrome, this did change things. All this to say, in trying to stay curious I can understand that there are downstream effects to the expansion of the diagnosis and how it has changed the playing field.

However, I walked away from reading this article with an intense, yet familiar feeling, that I didn’t belong. It brought me back to how I felt most of my life. That was until I was given a name for my experience in my mid 30’s. I am not personally tied to the name itself, but knowing that others see the world the way I do, was profound for my lived experience and beginning to accept and even love myself.

Here is the thing though, I don’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of the DSM-IV. There are pros and cons to everything including the DSM-IV. As a therapist myself I certainly see the benefits and limitations. I think for some being able to name and experience gives it less power, creates deep understanding, and sometimes a sense of belonging. At the very least it can make folks feel less alone. Other times labels become a crutch, can devalue it with misuse, and misinformation. Sometimes it can be an ending place rather than the beginning of understanding. It can even become oversimplified when in reality there is so much nuance.

Knowing this is what kept me trying to stay open minded throughout the article. But I am stuck on the purpose of the whole piece. If we are trying to stop misinformation, or the devaluation of the label, I can certainly understand that, and there are more effective ways to do so. On the other hand implying that some people don’t deserve the label is another thing entirely.

I felt the same way on the topic of motherhood. I am struck by the number of posts here on Substack about motherhood and marriage that start with, “If you husband participates in parenting and helps carry the mental load, then we aren’t on the same playing field.” If you have a nanny than our motherhood experiences aren’t the same” “If you don’t…. Than…” I can’t help but feel that these types of post are a cry to be seen while simultaneously alienating the very people that, despite their experiences looking different, might actually be able to understand you. So, what really is the point?

If feels like now that we have a label for certain experiences, when the group gets too big, we want to start breaking it down into subgroups and create some sort of hierarchy within the groups. Who has is the worst? I mean perhaps from an anthropological perspective this makes some sense. I don’t understand what is trying to be achieved. What does one achieve with the essence of “My motherhood is harder than yours” or “I am more autistic than you”. Reading it as a person who identifies with these experiences, I walk away feeling like maybe I don’t belong. As a therapist, I can’t help but wonder if these people are looking for connection and to be seen themselves and perhaps they feel the only way to do so, is to find ways to stand out within the group.

I get it when someone’s experience we identify with looks different than ours, it can elicit emotions within us. Perhaps those feel emotions feel threatening to our experience. I can’t help but feel that these are bids for connection masked in judgement. And perhaps these are coming from a scarcity mindset where there is some sort of need to identify who is need most? In our world today, where there is a constant need to prove our worth, so in a sad way that actually makes some sense.

But what if we pulled back and acknowledge that motherhood is hard? And what if folks who are autistic, do actually experience the world in a particular way? Most importantly there is no one way to define the experience. Even names with diagnostic criteria have a wide range of ways it can present. What if our efforts were not spent on who is most deserving? If we didn’t feel a need to prove our worth? Perhaps we could feel more welcoming to the idea that those who identify with a label, belong if they resonate with it in any way. Why does it have to look one particular way for someone to be worthy of identifying with a name?

There is so much nuance to this topic. When misinformation or exploiting the experience in some way is indeed harmful, there is also such power in naming an experience that can help people feel they belong, or even seen. What do we gain from excluding people?

Where I feel most stuck is that I think the intention of the article was indeed compelling in exploring the ways the diagnosis has changed. Even posts where people are sharing about an experience within an identified group like motherhood. They are compelling, but they lose me the second they try and share their story while also devaluing another group in order to make the point.

I can’t help but notice the ways people feel so protective of themselves in this world, that they show up in ways that create disconnection. I don’t think people are saying things to unintentionally alienate others. At least not in most cases. The internet is wild so there are certainly many exceptions to this rule. I think often the want to draw attention to our worthiness of belonging to a group, is a protective behavior to claim spot for a sense of belonging, as if there is limited space.

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In continuing to navigate a journey of being diagnosed later in life with AuDHD, there is so much that I am still trying to make sense of. Recently someone asked me how I came to be a therapist. The truth is I wanted to avoid answering that question because it doesn’t feel like a simple answer.

Prior to becoming a therapist I worked as and apparel buyer in the Retail/Fashion industry. I climbed the ladder and promptly found myself feeling burnout and empty. I spent eight years, and frankly, my entire life time at that point, committed to becoming successful in this path. Turns out I can complete goals, but that doesn’t necessary match up with how I thought that it would feel.

In hindsight it feels crystal clear for me that the type of work environment required for this type of work was really never really where I was going to thrive. I love fashion and I can identify and analyze patterns which were skills needed for the work. But the skills most valued were about being the toughest negotiator, building relationships that were meant to favor profit of the company. All of these things were to me, draining. They did not make me feel fulfilled or bring me joy. While I did them, because I was driven by a manufactured version of what success looked like. So I did them, well claimed the ladder and rather than feel “success”, I felt empty and burnt out.

For the previous few years prior to becoming a therapist, I was in denial about this not being my path. I absolutely could not fathom that everything I worked for, might not be for me. What would I even do? I built my whole identity around this career path, and it was slowly killing me inside.

In reflection I can see how I was spending all of my time doing draining tasks. I was constantly dysregulated and couldn’t understand why. I chalked it up to paying my dues, and pushed through. The clarity is uncanny and deeply unsettling when I see now how much of my life was deeply masked up until this point.

Deep down, I was fighting the quiet girl who thrived on performing well, speaking where I feel like could have value, and cared deeply about the team members that I led. None of this was valued. Producing was more important and required me to abandon myself in order to fit in this traditional box of success that I built my life around.

The clarity and acceptance of how that career path was never really where I would thrive only came to me after I became a therapist. I could see all the ways that I was contorting myself to fit the mold of the perfect corporate employee. And the joke was that it came at the expense of me. By the time Covid came, I was laid off and I was already deep in what felt like an internal crisis of trying to accept that my path forward may require burning it all down and starting over.

During the pandemic, there were many awful things happening but it gave my nervous system a rest, and permission to take my mask off. I spent all my time in deep routine of the things that gave me purpose. I was running daily, journaling, and leaning on my special interest of understanding the world, trying to make sense of my self, and frankly just humans in general. Only then, when the mask was down, my nervous system was calm, could I finally have space to consider, that maybe I could make a career out something I was actually interested in.

Enter my path to becoming a therapist. The first sign that I was on a path that felt like more of a fit than anything ever had, was when I went back to school. I was breezing through classes, and soaking it all in, and loving every minute. So much so, that it was hard to make sense of. I couldn’t believe that something could feel this good. This feeling only solidified further when I started my clinical work in internship. My work days flew by. I never experienced that in my previous jobs. I remember dragging afternoon, dreading going to work, and the worst cases of Sunday scaries. When I began working in private practice, I found myself looking forward to the days, the days flying by, and leaving work feeling fulfilled rather than drained.

I am in my fifth year of being a therapist, and this feeling still is as true as ever. I connect with what I do, I care about my clients, and I feel the work that I do is meaningful. This was more apparent than ever after becoming a parent. I work a few evenings a week which requires me to be away from kids. I struggle with some anxiety around that, but when I am at work I am fully present because I love it. I know in my previous experience when I am worried about something outside of work, when I didn’t connect with my job, it couldn’t distract me from that thing I was worried about. And that took a significant toll on me.

As I dug deeper into all the reasons why being a therapist has felt like the most profound life shift for me, it goes further than just the meaningful work. I thrive in an environment where there are appointment times, therefore my day is scheduled. There are clear boundaries with clients, and the expectations of me in the therapist client dynamic are very clear. All of this helps me thrive.

The thing I never once considered when deciding my career path, was what kind of environment and work would be a good fit for me? In all my years, I never considered what would be a good fit for me. I only ever built something that from the outside was what society deemed to look like success. It felt anything but for me.

When I think about the true unmasked version of me, this feels like such a paradox. I work with clients and have to be present with them in the room, requiring both talking and listening. In most other environments this would be utterly draining for me. But to my surprise, I found is that it is energy giving to me. Mostly because it is not small talk, rather it is deep conversation, that requires my full attention and exceptional listening skills. And the thing is, listening, well listening is what I do best. It is not that I am just silent in the room, that is not my style, (though I do use silence when I feel it is called for in the space). Its the active listening, the synthesizing back the information, attuning to the client, being present in the non verbal underpinnings.

I was eight years into my career before I realized that perhaps I didn’t know myself at all and the path I had been so confident in choosing, was manufactured on something that was never me. The path to transformation did in fact require me to blow it all up. But really on the other side, with advantage of a diagnosis, I can see I was living a deeply masked life without knowing it.

It was only after I was diagnosed and already working as a therapist that I realized how I built an entire life around what traditional success looked like with no knowledge, awareness, or even consideration that I could consider a life that suited me.

Working as a therapist, I a firm believer of doing the work myself. And this is something I have committed to doing. In deep reflection I have learned to embrace my strengths. I have learned to love that I have made my special interest in curiosity of how humans function, a career and a superpower. I have come to love that my ability to sit back, listen and synthesize what I heard, and have literally made it my job. I have come to learn, that I do experience the world differently, and it is ok to ask for what you need.

I am still working through the shame that comes with believing I need to be one way, and finding out who I really am, and loving that person. It is an ongoing journey. One where finding a career that has felt more me than I have ever felt has been the greatest gift to my unmasking journey.

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Over the past two weeks my husband and I have been dealing with our hardest season of parenting yet. Our oldest who is 4, is at the stage where she craves independence. But if I am being honest I have known this about her since I grew her inside of me. She is not only seeking independence as most toddlers do, she does it vocally and with big emotions.

The past two weeks have been different though. Her need for independence as become so urgent, so acute, she takes every moment as an opportunity to exercise her independence, and when it doesn’t go as expected, she gets lost in her experience. Understandably she has emotions, she is figuring out how to express them. Right now her instinct is to lash out and what makes it so challenging is that she struggles to regulate even with our guidance because here too she wants her independence.

These are some of the hardest moments as a parent. As a parent I want to help guide her on how to regulate when we things don’t go her way, or she is having a strong reaction. It is especially hard as an AuDHD parent whose nervous system immediately becomes overwhelmed and dysregulated when I sense her mood shift. In these moments, not only am I regulating myself, but I am working to regulate her. And to add a layer more, I am also a therapist who in a session with clients, I am able to do these things with clients. But in these moments I am her parent, not the therapist. I have the knowledge, and yet I am a human who deeply feels the world, and feels it even more deeply when I witness my daughter struggling in these moments. And yet, I feel so much shame that I can’t help my own daughter in these moments.

It felt like we were stuck in a cycle for two weeks straight of outburst after outburst, and increasing frustration for both my husband and myself. There were times where it got really hard. There were moments of physical aggression and the focus shifted to safety and getting through. Really, in most of these moments the only way out is through. Those who have experienced this, know this in their bones to be true.

My own inner experience of this sent me into a shame spiral. I felt helpless. I felt like I was reaching for tools to help her regulate, trying to walk away and take deep breaths to regulate myself. I was sitting through hard moments and then connecting and talking with my kid. I was researching. I was talking to my partner. I was exhausted.

After a particularly hard drop off, (where shoes were thrown at me while driving) I broke down. I felt so helpless and that things were getting worse, and that perhaps we needed more support. I felt so deeply for my daughter’s struggles and wanting to help her, and I felt like I was failing her. I spent the rest of that day between clients, really trying to come to terms with the fact that this may be a season. And, if we are going to get through this, then I need to find another way to look at this. I am not talking toxic positivity reframing. I am talking about a reset to help me get out of this power struggle with my kid, and perhaps see things more clearly.

What happened later that day was something unexpected. At pick up, things were (to no surprise), hard. There was screaming and shoes being thrown again. But rather than get frustrated, I focused on staying calm. When we got home, my daughter did not want to get out of the car so I offered her space and a choice to come out when she was ready.

After about ten minutes she came out of the car and was ready to connect. It wasn’t perfect, it was touch and go. That evening we had dinner outside, played with the hose, took baths and giggled and were just silly. I felt the world slow around me because something was dawning on me. I am not sure we went through the past two weeks with zero giggles, or never having been silly or moments of fun. I just wasn’t holding onto those moments or even noticing them. I was stuck in a cycle of only noticing how hard things were and it was also perhaps contributing to keeping this power struggle going.

When I reflected on the evening, I recognized that I was truly present in the moments of laughter, and noticing how much I missed them. I missed having fun with my daughter. I missed being silly. I realized how when we are so zoomed into a moment it is hard to see anything else. And seeing the other parts are necessary to get through the hard parts.

Drowning in challenge and power struggles for what felt like forever, it wasn’t until I came up for air that my vantage point changed. I was appreciating moments of laughter, like I wasn’t the weeks prior. I was experiencing them differently in a way where I just wanted to soak them up. It came from a place of not forgetting the hard parts but remembering to feel the full spectrum of being human with my daughter.

For the first time in two weeks I was allowing myself to experience the full range of my daughter’s humanness, and my own. She is fun, and silly, ands also has strong convictions and intense expression of emotions. I was being so blinded by the latter that I forgot about the other parts of her. I think I even forgot those parts of myself.

Not every moment is going to be laughter and fun, nor is every moment going to be hard. I feel like I lost sight of that until the moment of light appeared after only seeing darkness. I am reminded of the power of a moment. One moment can be hard and the next there can be laughter. If we stay too focused in one area we will lose sight of the whole picture.

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1. Substack: Nobody Ever Told Us By: Jocelyn Lovell

I was deeply moved by this piece. I have been deep inside of hard feelings around my parents. My mother in particular. I was stopped dead in my tracks when the author went from a space of “I wish I could be the kind of daughter who..” To “But I am the daughter who..” I straddle this feeling everyday. I want to be the kind of daughter who can put everything aside and show up, but I am still the daughter who is deeply hurt. The final sentence is so powerful “Can I be for Him, what he could never be for me”. I don’t know that I have ever read something that has resonated so deeply and so timely. I am really struggling with feeling that even after a great deal of reflection and inner work around this, I am not getting closer to this place.

2. Substack: How to Handle “Defiant” Behavior Without Yelling, Threatening, or Giving In By. Dr. Aliza Pressman

This weekend was especially trying with my 4 year old. Everything has felt like a battle. I as the parent have also been feeling dysregulated and overstimulated in general and it is not a good match. One battle after another, utilizing all of the strategies, including the ones in this article and it left me feeling entirely deflated. Reading this reminded though, I am the anchor, I am her safe place. The part that helped me put guard down : “If your child is regulated at school, regulated with babysitters, regulated at grandma’s, and only dysregulated with you, that is information. It tells you that you are the safest person in their world. They can let the storm come because you are the anchor that doesn’t move.”

It is also a reminder that parenting is not a game of instant gratification. It is a long game. Skills we are working on now may take years to take hold. It often feels hard to remember this in the moment when we are at are limit and are tempted to do anything to make it stop.

3. TV Show: Rooster (HBOMAX)

If you love a feel god show, don’t sleep on this one. I am a huge Steve Carell fan, and I was a little resistant when I saw the previews that I would even be interested in watching this one. I am so glad I did. It covers themes of grief, loss, starting over and it does so with smart humor. Run don’t walk.

4. An Observation as a Therapist:

The AuDHD part of me identifies patterns quickly. In my work I often find that a general theme emerges throughout the course of week or month across clients. I almost always end up going down some sort of rabbit hole trying to understand it. Recently that theme came in the form of avoidant behavior. In our culture inherently avoidance is more accepted because it means that someone isn’t being difficult or outwardly creating tension. The thing I have come to learn is, whether you tend to have avoidant tendencies or you tend to be more direct, both have benefits and drawbacks. In particular in relationships (I am a couples therapist) avoidance tends to get the benefit of the doubt because those who fall in the category are deemed as the “agreeable one”. But what happens is that overtime that avoidance isn’t sustainable and what is suppressed comes out another way, often sideways. It ultimately leaves the other person caught off guard and it ends up being disorienting for everyone. Being direct and the person who addresses every issue immediately, with unbridled expression, can have the drawback of disorienting everyone as well. It also tends be less accepted and the person is often labeled as “difficult”. The challenging work is straddling when avoidance is appropriate and when being direct is necessary.

Recently I feel this stands out in particular because avoidance and unbridled self expression are on opposite ends of the spectrum but yet they can often yield the same outcome if we don’t find balance in our communication strategies.

5. What’s Missing From Belle Burden’s “Strangers”

Awhile back I shared “Strangers” as a must read. I still think it was a great read. Recently an article came out in the New Yorker and many, even here on Substack, have written thought provoking pieces about it. What strikes me about the criticism of the author and her memoir also relates to the topic I wrote about when I shared this book the first time. I posed the question, when is it our story to tell? It feels that there is criticism of Belle telling this story and it inherently making her husband look like a villain. I am not arguing that the book didn’t do that. What I find curious though, is I can’t seem to move beyond the thought of what would lead him to do this? My therapist ears perked up when Belle touched on some of his history. I never really thought I got a true picture of her husband, it was more a question of what was going through his mind that lead him to this place.

Secondly, I feel that people are being critical of Belle because inherently someone who is multimillionaire many times over is honestly not that relatable of a person to the majority. In fact, I feel like I internalized that when I was reading so perhaps it influenced how I perceived this book. I am not here to be critical of Burden or her husband or even the memoir. But I do want to point out a possibility that I don’t feel is being considered. While the memoir does share a story that includes her ex-husband, I see this story reflecting more about Burden than her husband. Frankly the whole thing is shocking, but ultimately it left me with more questions than answers. I skated by her husband all together. Maybe because its a tale as old as time that a man cheats and leaves his wife. But what I didn’t skate by were the series of choices Belle herself made throughout the marriage. The thing I want to be clear about, I am not judging her. It is rarely ever a simple answer to these questions. The most powerful thoughts left lingering with me had more to do with Belle’s actions throughout the marriage, than the depiction of her husband throughout the memoir. So perhaps the thing that was left out of this memoir was, a deeper reflection of her own actions.

I started Substack earlier this year with surprising success in gaining some followers quickly. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you what made that work and that is not what I have come here to write about. Gaining followers and putting my work out there was exciting but I also was trying not to focus on the numbers. I truly joined because I wanted to write and I wanted to put it out in the world. I was quickly humbled.

I am a late diagnosed AuDHD person who is in the process of unmasking and relearning herself. The reason I mention it is because it has what turned me back to writing in order to process this disorienting experience.

I am the type of person who needs structure and routine and I needed to find a way to fit this into world. So I committed to writing twice per week. I wanted to write about my experience but also share about topics that are poignant to me. I wanted to do this through a long form essay each week. And another post would be a collection of “what had me thinking” throughout the week. Whether it be other writing, a podcast, book or tv show, and then sharing it for others to think about it with me. I still love this format. But, a common challenge I face presented itself here. I need routine and structure so I show up even when I don’t want to. While simultaneously I need total flexibility to access creativity. As an AuDHD person this is a constant challenge

While this has been humbling, I deal with this struggle often so it shouldn’t have been a surprise. I quickly burnt out because it started to feel more like work. I wasn’t connecting to the creative part of me which is what I came here to do. So, I took a break.

Throughout this break I have been pondering about balance, change, commitment and getting clear on what I really want here. I truly did just want a place to share what I was writing. I can see now that the routine of writing and posting notes, started to tip into a space that felt more like work and quickly led me to losing steam.

At times I caught myself getting caught up in having gained an understanding in how Substack works with attracting people to your writing. It does take commitment to utilizing the notes feature. This is something I felt deeply torn about. I will say that it wasn’t something I considered in doing when I joined Substack. I started to participate, but I found that it was increasing my screen time and taking my attention. It was putting me in place where I felt I had to think of something to say, versus having something to say, and then showing up. This gave me pause because I had specifically walked away from others forms of social media to decrease screen time, improve mental health and shift how I spent my time. I have loved the outcome of this. For me it resulted in, way less time on phone and significantly more time being present with my family and with myself.

I know many could look at this and see it as an excuse. Perhaps it is. However, in teasing it apart further though, I know I wanted to stay aligned with my intention of being here in the first place, and I was comfortable with a couple hours of writing a week to do so. When I had to shift into the space of short form notes, just to keep readers able to read my work, I immediately lost interest.

It started to move thoughts towards the idea of balance and change. Again, two things that are constantly at odds as an AuDHD person. I am constantly trying to be aware of my capacity and what feeds it and what drains it. I am also deeply interested in writing and I am committed to it. So committed though that it really is a special interest of mine. And, as an AuDHD person when something shifts into a special interest area, there is no such thing as balance. It becomes all consuming. There is no middle ground. Same with change, I always resist it at first. I get worried about not just the change itself but what else it will uproot in life, my routines. I create routines so that I can be successful. So when one of them is threatened my nervous system resists. I have navigated enough changes in my life to know on the other side could be something great but I also know the energy and level of commitment it takes and at first that feels overwhelming and my resistance is how I am coping.

This experience has upended both of those things for me and left me honestly sitting with shame and hopelessness. I am worried that becoming committed to utilizing notes takes more time than I have capacity for and frankly am willing to commit.

I am also resisting change in general so much right now. I know what it looks like for me to commit to something and really go all in. I have two masters degrees, I have run ultra marathons, I have had a newborn while I was in the midst of getting my second master’s degree. It is not a question of capability. It is a question of where my energy goes. If I go all in here, will it shake my current state of balance? Will it take my energy away from my kids? Will I fail? But more importantly does it align with what I am working towards?

I haven’t written consistently in two months and the whole time I have felt frozen with guilt. I committed to this, and then I just stopped. It feels like quitting. But as I started to reframe this as a pause, I do think that I have found some clarity. Specifically, for right now, I am working on strengthening my writing skills and I want a place to share it. Substack is one vehicle to do that. I also want flexibility and not make this something it doesn’t need to be.

I want to better my writing skills because I genuinely enjoy writing. In stepping back, I realized that not everything I do needs to made into a full time job or side hustle. It is hard to straddle the tension of this because it feels like it lacks the structure I know I need. Even more though, I need is to stay in alignment with what I set out to do. From my vantage point I can write for enjoyment for me while also sharing it here, whether I have 1 reader or 1000.

I will admit I am a consumer of reality TV. I am also a therapist sometimes I find myself viewing it from that perspective rather than just viewing it for entertainment.

Most of the shows that I consume are ones such as, Summer House, Southern Charm and The Valley I am not a Real Housewives consumer (sorry) but mostly just because I don’t have time to take that on. These shows are filled with drama which is obviously the point. Recently however, it feels as if the drama has become almost too real, and too intimate, that it makes it deeply uncomfortable to watch.

Watching people have drama about who said what, is one thing. Watching relationships dissolve in front of an audience feels like I am looking at something that I shouldn’t. I don’t know if it is the couple’s therapist in me, or just being human, but watching people suffer in their relationships whether it is cheating or slowly growing a part is hard enough. Having some of the most intimate moments of heartbreak available for others to consume and pass judgment on, makes me question how far reality television is willing to go.

If you are a Summer House fan (or even if you are not) you may have seen the discourse around cast-mates divorcing and one of the divorced cast-mates beginning to date another casemate. You could say that things got complicated fast.

Sounds like any other reality TV show. Perhaps. It goes sideways for me when I consider these major moments are a storyline in the show, are also real life for these people. All over the internet people are taking sides, creating their own narratives, and making judgments for how this all played out. Is this part of the fun of reality television? I am not sure anymore.

It is beginning to feel more uncomfortable to witness rather than fun. What I am most bothered by however, is the disregard for the humans on the show and how the internet blindly takes sides and creates false narratives. Even more, the blatant judgment with no benefit of the doubt or ability to see beyond the drama.

My non therapist perspective feels more like: this is entirely too uncomfortable to watch. And holy shit this must be awful. The therapist part of me has so much empathy for this situation for all parties involved. Truly, I do.

I see the struggle of the relationship between Kyle and Amanda as long standing and both parties seemingly struggling to connect. While the storyline makes Kyle the villain in the relationship, there is no room to consider that perhaps like many humans, he is overwhelmed and struggling to look inward—doing the best he can.

While the storyline portrayed Amanda being a victim in all of this, I wonder if she has been disengaged from the relationship long before this season aired. What if she was feeling stuck on whether to stay or go?

Everyone is questioning West’s intentions. He gets painted as a “f*ck boy”. This perspective may fail to consider that perhaps he might also be someone with good intentions and misguided actions.

Ciara has been both painted as being angry, though thankfully many have empathy for her too. I What about the idea that she feels betrayed and frankly is reacting appropriately for someone who feels that way.

What is fascinating is the internet taking a leap to immediately identify, who is the villain, who is the victim, who is right and who is wrong. In all of my work I have come to know, it is rarely that simple. This tendency to assign people labels and put them in a box is simple. The effort to think deeper and offer empathy towards these people for being human, is far more unsettling.

For a living I sit with people, particularly couples, and walk with them through some of their darkest moments. In that space it is my job to hold each person in the room in high regard and see beyond their behaviors. (This should go without saying, but this does not apply if we are dealing with actual verbal or physical violence).

I try to conceptualize it in a way to help each person understand it in order to move beyond it. Wether it is an affair, loss, grief, growing apart, betrayal, divorce, parenthood. You name it. These are some of the most vulnerable moments in a couples journey. They deserve to be handled with compassion.

In these darkest moments people show up in ways that they never imagined and leave scars they never intended. My role isn’t to give these people a pass, it is to help them understand it. It is to help them see beyond the surface. It is to help them find a way forward and grow.

Seeing these deeply intimate moments play out on television, left open to interpretation crosses a boundary from entertainment to invasion of privacy. It feels like we as a society (or at least some people on the internet) have forgotten how to offer empathy and understanding towards the human experience.

While these people have let their most intimate moments play out publicly, the internet feels entitled to judge them. When the cameras go down and the keyboard warriors unite, we don’t see the damage. Here my concern grows that watching this for entertainment no longer feels like enjoyable. And as a therapist, it feels wrong to play into this as entertainment and not hold the space for people navigating their darkest moments.

So perhaps this piece highlights the challenges of the therapist part of me watching reality television. That is likely true. Though it is also true that this feels so poignant to me because there is a great need within our world to practice offering empathy to friends, family and even strangers. At some point watching someone else’s pain is no longer entertainment and becomes something else entirely.

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It never occurred to me that I am allowed to have hard feelings around my childhood.

I grew up in a family with an older brother and both of my parents. My material needs were provided, we weren’t wealthy but we were comfortable. On paper, I had enough. Also true about our family story, my mother has Multiple Sclerosis and has since I was eight years old. It shaped our entire family. It shaped my parent’s marriage. It shaped my relationship with her. I don’t really have any memories (that aren’t from old photos) of a time before my mother’s diagnosis. My mother having MS is just something that became a part of our family equation. While it influenced our family dynamics it was all I ever really knew so, we never really spoke about it with any significance around the real impact on our family.

I experienced glimpses into other family lives through my friends. I witnessed other relationships with my friends and their mothers. As far as I was concerned my experience wasn’t that different than theirs. My mom’s diagnosis wasn’t at the forefront of the narrative of my relationship with her. In fact, in wasn’t part of the narrative in our family either. How I related to my mom was. The narrative looked more like, me and my mother struggling to get along. That didn’t feel abnormal.

I remember a particular experience in my life when I was about to enter high school, and I was forced to quit a competitive cheerleading program I had spent the previous three years devoted to. There were many reasons. The bottom line was that I was devastated. I was scared about going to a new school, knowing nobody and leaving a community I loved. All I can remember is being sad and wanting to be comforted. Instead it looked more like continual justification of the choice rather than comforting me and allowing me to just be upset. In fact, I wasn’t allowed to be upset. I just needed to move on.

Even more painful were the countless times I reached out for her and she was in her own crisis. Whether she was dealing with an MS flare up, depression, or stress with her marriage. Whatever it was, it always trumped my experience. Sometimes by choice, other’s by default. I pushed my experiences aside because it felt hard to ask for comfort when she was struggling, all while also having MS. I always figured she had it worse. It didn’t feel like there was room for my feelings too. I comforted her instead.

When I was in my early twenty’s I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be a mother. Largely because of my own relationship with my mother. I wasn’t sure that I would be good at it. Over the years in my twenty’s my perspective shifted. I realized that I wanted to care for something beyond myself and raising children with my now husband, would be fulfilling for us. Fast forward two kids later, and that has been an understatement.

Rewind to my first pregnancy, and my world fundamentally changed. It became real that I would become a mother. It became real that I wanted to have a deep connection and provide love and safety for my child. It also became real in an unexpected way. I didn’t have that with my own mother. How could I even begin to know how to do this?

Throughout my pregnancy I started to see tension with my mother as something different. I started to distance myself from her and doing some deep inner work through therapy. It profoundly shifted my vantage point and gave me permission to acknowledge something that that had always been true, but had never been said. My mom’s diagnosis impacted our family too. Just writing this feels overwhelming and wrong.

Growing up, I always considered how MS impacted my mother. I saw it with my own eyes. The constantly being tired. The deterioration of her mobility. But I never once felt it would be okay to think about how her diagnosis stole her capacity to be present as a mother, and in turn how that impacted me (and my brother- but that is his own story to tell). I never once allowed myself to think about how it shaped me. My mother is the one with MS. My mother is the one who has it worse. It didn’t feel right. It still doesn’t.

I sat with some pivotal moments with my mother, in my late teens and twenties. I remember navigating breakups, friendship challenges, job changes, existential issues, and the first person I turned to was my mom. Then I noticed a deeper pattern. I did always turn to my mom and often times in the moment of crisis, she was unavailable. She was almost always emotionally unavailable, but often times physically unavailable too. I have many memories of needing my mom only to find her in her room sleeping. Other times, she wouldn’t be able to be with me in my emotions, and it would feel like my emotions were minimized or encouraged to go away. At best I was “just being dramatic”. When I thought deeper about it, this was a long-standing pattern that I knew well, but could never find a way to change.

I recognize that the younger version of myself didn’t have the tools for appropriate self-soothing and managing my emotions. I became and angry person. I know that is not pleasant to be in relationship with. This is something I have felt deep shame around. I became unavailable too. Now, I continue to find ways to be in charge of my response and manage my own emotions. I have learned so much about myself and how I function, and have been able to make real strides that I am proud of. As an adult I truly own my role in being responsible for how I show up in relationships and hold myself accountable when I fall short. There is also another part of me, the part that is now a mother, that has profoundly shifted my vantage point.

As a child, we look towards our parents for comfort. We look towards our parents to learn how to navigate hard experiences and emotions. When we don’t get those needs met, they fundamentally change the relationship. When I reflect on some of the most profound experiences, my emotions were abandoned. The message to me was consistent: “you are too much. Your emotions are too much, put them away.” My body vehemently rejected this. And frankly it still does. It made me so angry and I refused to be silent about it. I pushed for connection where it was never going to be found. I wasn’t physically abandoned, but my emotions were certainly not welcome.

The vantage point I sit from now, it is not about blaming. I will admit at a time when I leaned into my anger, it was. But it has been profoundly freeing to let go of the blame and see my childhood for what it was. My mother’s experience as a parent was deeply impacted by her MS. She did the best could with the resources she had. There were also other dynamics that played a role in my childhood too. Those are for another story, another time.

This experience has allowed me to also see something else. While I do accept that my mother did the best she could. I hold space for the hand she was dealt and how it impacted her. I hold acceptance for who my mother is as a result of having MS. I also hold a great deal of grief. I am allowed to have grief. I may not be the one suffering the way my mother is but I didn’t go unscathed. I too, was a casualty in the hand she was dealt. My experience isn’t meant to take away from hers. It is that my experience deserves space too.

Most days I can be grateful that my mother is a wonderful grandmother to my children. They adore her. Other days, I find myself wanting to turn to her for support and in order to protect myself, I won’t allow myself. Other times the physical abilities won’t allow for it. It always results in grief.

Becoming a parent, has allowed me to give grace to mine. And in giving grace to mine it has also allowed me permission to experience the grief for the ways our relationship fell short. In doing so, it has shown me the profound responsibility of my actions on my own children. I hold that with great awareness and as a burden I am willing to bear.

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Being a therapist is such a strange and beautiful job. It is an honor to do the work. As I continue to find my voice I have noticed something that keeps sitting with me. In the therapy room I have found my voice. Outside the therapy space I shrink. I hide. I don’t recognize myself.

In the context of the therapy room, the relationship is between therapist and client. There are boundaries. I am listening, asking questions, becoming curious, creating space for them. This is not a reciprocal relationship. My clients aren’t asking me questions about me (usually). It doesn’t mean they aren’t curious about me, it just isn’t what the space is used for. My client’s get to solely come and know that this space is for them.

I’ve come to realize that this part of the job feels safe and comfortable. There are clear boundaries that are expected in the therapeutic relationship. There isn’t an expectation that I have to share about myself. This space is not about me, it is about them, and I am fully immersed in making it about them.

As I have reflected further on this dynamic, I have realized in some ways this has perpetuated the behavior of keeping people at arm’s length for me. In the therapeutic relationship it is necessary for the work. And I believe in that. I have also come to realize that through this dynamic I am actually able to be most myself and am able to show parts of me to the client without ever making it about me.

I laugh with my clients. I cry with my clients. I sit in silence with my clients. I get curious with my clients. I get frustrated with my clients. The thing is when I am doing this rather than remaining completely neutral, I am revealing parts of me to them as way to remind them there is another human who can hold space for them. When I reflect something back to them and remember details from previous sessions, I show how I care, how I am with them in their story. When I sit in silence I am showing them the part of me that is fully present and yet curious while creating space without expectation of reciprocation.

There is something so freeing about it this. The idea that my role is clear and reciprocation to share about myself is not an expectation. It has freed up the space within me to actually be me. What has been lingering is that this feeling of freedom, of lack of expectation, has served me well in my role as a therapist. In my personal life, these boundaries have kept people at arm’s length.

Why does the therapeutic space feel deeply authentic and comforting? Why does tthe rest of the world feel so disorienting? I struggle to even begin to connect with others that they never even get a chance to really know me. That is unless they are my close friends through long established relationships.

When I began understanding my autism diagnosis, this dynamic began to make more sense. Clear boundaries and expectations are where I thrive. I am deeply curious about people and why they are the way they are. This is where I could spend all of my time. But when I am in other social interactions it doesn’t feel as freeing to me. My nervous system is activated and I can’t access the parts of myself that I access when I am with client’s. My humor, my curiosity, listening with ease. It feels more like racing thoughts, overwhelm and disassociation.

Recently there has been so much grief around this. I love that I get to be with my clients in a way where I am fully present, able to be in their story with them, attuned to them. It feels wonderful to be this present and alive with clients. I am anything but this with others. I feel like I am missing out.

In relationships outside the therapy room, there are fewer clear boundaries. The expectation of reciprocation does exist. In these moments it is like my mind is blank. I convince myself nothing I have to say has any value. I know that being quiet in social situations is less acceptable. I stay stuck between these two things and eventually say nothing. I leave the interaction drenched in shame.

There is an ongoing process within myself that is trying to offer myself compassion. I know that what is happening inside of myself, to my nervous system, as a result of autism, plays a role in this. I am constantly straddling a line between doing what I think I am “supposed” to be doing regarding social expectations, and being true to myself.

I feel deeply proud of how I show up inside the therapeutic space for my clients. It has changed the way I see what I am capable of. It has played a profound role in my unmasking journey that I never knew it would. I have found parts of me I am proud of within these bounds. It makes me hopeful that outside the therapeutic space, there is more to be found.

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1. Substack: Well Managed Kids Don’t Become Capable Adults By:

This piece was engaging and thoughtful. It really got me thinking about how our kids spend time. Thinking about this is one of the many things that require a great deal of mental effort in this day and age. It is not as simple as just letting them run around anymore. Frankly, I wish it was. This is on my mind constantly. Do I sign my kid up for organized activities? How will they meet people? How will they spend their time? I personally don’t like my time to be completely scheduled, how could I expect this of my kids? The other challenge is finding people who let their kids play together without it being a structured parent led situation.

Recently however, I had an experience with a group of people who were more OK with letting their kids play together in the same house, with adults in one room and kids in another. I found myself uneasy. Not that I didn’t want this. I just wasn’t used to it.

The result? Honestly it was pretty amazing. The kids played for HOURS and came and checked in when they needed something but then went right back to playing. The kids did not even come to tattle or ask to have an adult work an issue out amongst them. They were coming to the parents if they were looking for a snack. It was shocking.

After this experience I am deeply grateful as the adults were able to socialize together while the kids were doing the same. The reality is that these types of spaces/groups are something that I don’t find easily accessible. I have other friends who wouldn’t let their kids out of sight. I am not judging. I am a person who is used to being close by and honestly playing with my kids, rather than socializing. But it was such a breath of fresh air to get an opportunity to watch my kids thrive in new ways, while also myself getting to socialize. I want more of this. My kids need more of this.

2. Substack: Have You Tried Just Not Picking Your Skin By:

This piece hit home for me. For anyone who is familiar with Skin Picking or Body Picking Repetitive behaviors know the shame and turmoil that can come from this. I have had Trichotillomania for 15 years. This is a hair pulling disorder. For me personally, I have pulled my eyebrows out and only have about half of each of my eyebrows still in tact. It has been an ongoing struggle that has such deep shame associated with it. I constantly heard “just stop picking”, as if it were that easy. This piece also talks about the connections to these types of disorders with Autism and ADHD. The thing is, I wasn’t diagnosed with AuDHD until I was 34 so I went forward not understanding the experience with pulling my eyebrows out. At one point I did seek therapeutic help and was able to treat the behavior with CBT, and grow my eyebrows back. That was until something major in my life occurred and I slowly pulled them out again.

This disorder has been one of my greatest senses of shame but also deeply eroding to my self esteem. As a person who pulls their eyebrows, there is a real consequence that came in the form of impacting my appearance. I don’t use make up to draw them in. I have just lived with the consequences. I also struggle to look in mirrors and talking about my appearance or putting makeup on is incredibly sensitive for me. While other’s may notice my eyebrows and find it strange, I have grown used to my appearance. More as way to cope, not in a way of true acceptance.

For me, this piece has me thinking about the power of connection and being able to hear other’s struggle with something similar is so powerful and healing.

3. Substack: Why Putting Phones Down Isn’t Enough By:

THIS. This piece names something so important. For those that read the book the Anxious Generation, by Jonathan Haidt, the author highlights his work around phone usage for adolescents. The author is suggesting something more here. She highlights, once we work to reduce our screen time,then what? This is such an important question.

I have written before about my journey in reducing screen time through getting rid of social media (aside from substack now) and it leading to new habits like reading. What resonated most was replacing screen time with human connection. It seems so simple, yet so powerfully true. I had felt proud of the work I had done to reduce my own screen time. I have seen positive behavior changes in many ways and frankly it improved my mood too. The truth is though, while I feel more present at home with my family, I didn’t necessarily trade my screen time for more human connection. I am not necessarily shaming myself, I just want to name that I see the importance. I think I want to rise to this challenge of shifting some of my behaviors to intentionally focusing more on human connection. Such a timely piece especially with all the talk about people trying to go for a more analog lifestyle.

4. Book: Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage By: Belle Burden

Wow this memoir was powerful. This book had me thinking about many things. While the premise of this memoir was the author detailing her relationship and its eventual, shocking end. The story itself is powerful, heartbreaking and takes you through a roller coaster of emotions. There were also some thought-provoking questions that arose.

The author wrote about the idea of telling this incredibly personal story about the end of her relationship. She also faced intense criticism that she details in the book. The criticism raised an important question for me personally: When we have a personal story with characters other than ourselves, when is it Ok to tell that story? Where does it cross it a line in invading the privacy in the other’s involved in the story?

I still have more questions than answers around this. But this question is lingering within me in a deep yet important way.

5. Me: Once we Become Mothers Are We Ever Going to Talk about anything other than our kids?

Listen, I love my kids. I am not going to lie either, I talk about them with others. They are on my mind. Being a mother is all consuming. Any yet, I am still more than just a mother. I am friend. I am a wife, I am a daughter. I am a sister. I am a therapist. I am a whole human.

I write this thought from the inside, not from the place of having answers. But are we supposed to feel that the other parts of ourselves are unimportant and being a mother is the most important part of us? I am trying to hold space for the fact that being a mother is a profound experience. I love it. But I miss wanting to talk about the other parts of me. I miss people being curious about the other parts of me. Is this just motherhood?

I don’t know if it is just me or if others experience this, but lately I have been longing for a group of people who want to know the whole me, not just the part of me that is a mom. Que the guilt for wanting to be the other parts of me in addition to being a mother.

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I’ve been really stuck with writing this week. It’s not for lack of things to say but I find myself falling into old patterns of making excuses to silence myself.

In my journey of unmasking it has forced me to reflect on my past pivotal experiences and see them through a different lens. I find myself wanting to write about these experiences because they have been profound in my journey of healing. I find myself pausing because these experiences involve other people, family, friends, and past relationships. It pulls me towards this question of, whose story is it to tell if it involves other people.

I recently read the memoir, “Strangers” where the author wrote about her marriage ending and received criticism from many about sharing her story. She spoke about herself. She spoke about her now ex-partner. She spoke about her family. It never dawned on me while reading it, that it wasn’t her story to tell. Why would anyone be so uncomfortable with someone sharing their experience? Perhaps the criticism comes from a place of discomfort with vulnerability and honesty. The other part of me wondered about the validity of some of the judgement she received. Is writing the story a violation of other’s privacy?

As a writer, there must be some responsibility in the story being told, and the characters involved. The writing I would hope to do, would be from my perspective. My perspective is how I experienced it, my interpretation of events. Why then in personal writing does holding space for multiple truths gets lost? Is it better to just stay silent?

Much of my fears have circled around people who were a part of my experience not seeing it the way I do, or even worse, unwilling to see it as my truth. The thought of someone minimizing or dismissing my experience, especially my family, feels like a pain I can’t bear. It’s not that I am afraid I will lose the relationship. It is more fear that I won’t be seen for who I really am.

Throughout my own inner work, I truly felt I had come to a place where I could accept that others can’t or maybe won’t be able to see my experiences the way I do. Any yet that wouldn’t make it any less true. The way I have coped with that has been by choosing not share myself with them. Closing off. If I don’t share my story, they can’t dismiss it. Sharing the story takes away my protection.

As I continue my journey of unmasking, I am at a crossroads. Writing has been an essential part of this journey for me. It has taken my silence and given me a voice. It is giving me a place to lay out what I carry internally. As the stories start to unfold with more characters than myself, what part of my story do I actually own? Should I silence myself to protect the privacy of others in my story? Or is protecting others in this way, another way I am just silencing myself?

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This is quickly becoming my favorite post to write. It is still very all over the place, but then again it is a reflection of what is going on in my brain. In the process of putting it together, I am fascinated with how the things I am drawn to in a particular week are like my brains way of pulling a thread on a particular theme. This week, that thread is about being “enough”. Autistic enough, accountable enough, trust worthy enough, woman enough. Come think with me!

1. Book: A Little Less Broken: How An Autism Diagnosis Finally Made Me Whole By: Marian Schembari

In my journey of unmaking my AuDHD reading this book has been one of the most profound. The author explored feeling misunderstood while navigating these challenges through childhood, early adulthood, relationships, and into parenthood until she was diagnosed at 34.

I deeply resonated with the author’s experience. The similarity in our experiences stopped me in my tracks. One of themes the author explored in relationship to her diagnosis, was the idea of if she was “autistic enough”. When she first shared her story publicly, she received comments about how her diagnosis would invalidate those whose autism experience looked different than hers. She described how her experience being diagnosed with autism felt invalidated when she was accused of being too successful, personally and professionally, and therefore she “didn’t really have autism”. She explored how she sought a second opinion just to confirm her diagnosis. In doing this, she named no matter the process of diagnosis, through a professional or self diagnosed, it is valid. What most poignantly stood out was how the life altering experience did not come when she was formally diagnosed. Rather it was when the idea of being autistic was first introduced to her and she immediately recognized herself.

My experience has been deeply similar. Never feeling autistic enough. I haven’t even shared this information with my family. Only my husband knows. I have two master’s degrees, two children and a husband, and I am a therapist. I was successful in school. On the outside people would never know. Except it is true. I still deeply sit with the thought that I don’t struggle outwardly enough to warrant this diagnosis that has profoundly shifted how I see myself.

2. Book: Accountable: The True Story of a Racist Social Media Account and the Teenagers Whose Lives It Changed By: Dashka Slater

I listened to this as an audiobook. So many important questions came up for me. This book was by a journalist telling the story about a racist social media account that was created by teenagers that after being discovered, changed the school and the small town it was located in. The story while focused on exploring themes around prejudice and racism while simultaneously exploring a deeper theme of repair.

The book examined both the perspectives of those who created the account and students who were targeted on the account. It also explored the process of establishing repair from the harm this account created. This had me thinking further about repairing in relationships with people we have harmed.

We currently live in the world where when someone makes a mistake, the internet cancels the person or group, then bully’s them into silence. Is this real repair or even accountability? The broader question feels like it should be more around, what would real repair look like when significant harm is done?

In the book it was debated if students who participated in the account should be suspended or expelled. There were people who questioned if it was enough. And really, is it enough? Will taking them out of school actually teach them about the harm they caused? Will cancelling someone actually repair the harm they may have caused? Repair is nuanced in every situation but it begs the question of how important it is to take time to think deeply about repair and what we are actually seeking when harm is caused. Do we want the other person to suffer, or do we want them to learn and change?

3. Me: Rebuilding Trust

I think there may be a theme here. What would it take to rebuild trust or repair it? Deep in my work as a therapist I am up against this work daily. Lately, I have been sitting with this idea of around how do we determine when rebuilding trust is worth it. Are there cases where rebuilding trust is not worth it?

I recognize that this is incredibly nuanced, but I am always curious on how others might process this question. I feel I have more questions than answers here, but as promised I am here to share what I am thinking, and frankly I am still deep in this one and it feels important.

4. Substack: Women Can Do it All: But Why Should They? By:

The title alone of this one pulled me in. Women Can Do it All, But Why Should They? This is so layered. My mind has so many things coming up.

Society tells us that the definition of being a successful woman, is doing it all. It has became a badge of honor for woman to do it all. Underneath though, what is actually happening? This is the part that deserves further insight and visibility.

Woman are absolutely capable, but at what price? What does it cost to keep up appearances of being the one who does it all, and with grace?

The idea of being the one who does it all is something I personally have a had love hate relationship with. I find myself questioning my worth when I seek help from my partner, or hold a boundary or prioritize working out for myself to keep my sanity. And then there is another part that recognizes that I am a part of partnership and working together as a team doesn’t say anything about my worth.

While “doing it all”, it has made me question myself in motherhood, I am also deeply grateful that my partner isn’t just “helping” me, we are truly in this together. Why should I sacrifice my mental health, and ability to be a whole human just to earn an elusive badge of doing it all?

5. Substack: Why I removed My Credentials from Behind My Name- By:

I show up here in substack as the whole version of myself. But something that is also a part of me, is that I am a therapist. I was so glad to come across this piece that described a fellow therapist’s choice to not put her letters behind her name and show up as her whole self. Like her, I intentionally chose to show up in this space without the letters behind my name.

Something unique about being a therapist is that we develop relationships with client’s but the relationship is boundaried which can mean that client’s don’t always see the full humanity of the therapist. Though as the author of this piece points out, it can sometimes be helpful to do so. And that is another thought I could go on about entirely…

I don’t want to show up here to just be a therapist. I want to show up here to be me. And sometimes that will include me talking about thoughts that arise as a result of being a therapist. Other times I am talking about the other parts of my identity like motherhood, or being a partner, or a friend. I want my whole humanity here.

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Let’s Chat!

If any of this resonated with you, I would love to hear your thoughts!

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The antidepressant bottle sat on the counter the entirety of my first pregnancy.I grappled with whether to take it during pregnancy. It didn’t matter what my doctor, the internet or friends told me, I was bathing in shame for needing it at all.

This was only the start of the shame.

My daughter protested breastfeeding at 3 months old. I knew it was hard. I pushed through. She was unhappy, I was unhappy. We found our rhythm again. That was until three months later it happened again. This time she was even more unhappy and I was too. Again, I was bathed in shame that I must be doing something wrong. I finally decided to exclusively pump and feed bottles at that point with a dose of shame for not being able to just “figure it out”.

And still, I had yet to grab hold of the shame.

I am moving my daughter swiftly through her nighttime routine. I lose my patience when my daughter’s delay tactics start to feel like everything is taking FOREVER and I am crawling out of my own skin. I walk out of the room and am immediately upset with myself for not being the parent who can just be present with their child.

The pattern of struggling and being steeped in shame filled the early years of motherhood. It impossible to hold space for the beautiful challenge that is motherhood, and the profound loneliness that accompanied my self protection for fear of being exposed as inadequate.

I spent time reading books on parenting, learning about breastfeeding, sleep schedules, baby led weaning, navigating tantrums. The thing was that those books while helpful to some, created more shame and isolation for me. After remaining paralyzed in decision during my first pregnancy I decided to focus on my child and trust my gut, and that was freeing for me.

Where I found boundaries, I also found myself pulling away from talking about parenting in my friendships. Motherhood is about the child you have and parenting the child you have. But when you lean on friendships to talk about the depths of parenting, at times it felt impossible to relate because our experiences were profoundly different. I found that the distance protected me from the idea that maybe I was doing something wrong.

I realize all of this was my individual choice and reflects my own inner experience. I pulled away from friends, I chose to disconnect. As a result, all my experiences became unwitnessed by others, and taken on by my nervous system.

Where I have yet to gain real clarity is how I can hold space for how other’s parent. Truly, no judgement. However, I fear I won’t be granted that same respect, so I silence myself.

Only now am I beginning to recognize how my sensory overload, rigidity and high sensitivity have shaped my motherhood experience. I am grappling with acceptance for the mother I am and grief for the mother I am not. But perhaps this is less about becoming a different mother and rather, embracing the mother I already am.

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This week’s “what has me thinking” feels tender. So many of these pieces touched on identity. The roles we default to, the masks we wear, the habits we defend, and the fear of what happens if we let them go.

I didn’t expect them to connect the way they did, but together they left me reflecting on who I’ve been… and who I’m still becoming.

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1. Substack: What If No One Ever Asks? By:

This piece hit for me at just the right time. The author, Amanda wrote, “Every friend group has that one member who’s always the planner.” In my friend group I am that friend. But what hit me more was, “Maybe you’re the one who gets to go along when those plans materialize, grateful that someone else is keeping an eye out for the crazy, or not so crazy ideas.” The thing is I kind of want to be the friend who gets to come along, at least occasionally.

Reading this piece had me thinking about the current circumstances of my close friend group. We are all deep in parenting toddlers. We don’t live in the same cities or even state. Planning has become exhausting rather than exciting. We still love each other and parenthood has been all consuming.

I used to value being the planner of the group, now I resent it. But as the author wrote, “By not even asking, I was making decisions for people that weren’t mine to make. And worse, I was holding myself back from opportunities to do things I actually wanted to do.” That my friends, is a profound.

When I think about my resentment, now all I see is how it punishes me, and perhaps there is real value to being the planner or the glue in the relationship. Perhaps, wanting to be cared for inside the friendships isn’t unreasonable, or limited to the efforts of making plans.

I am so glad I read this, because the thought of what is my role in the friendships in the phase of life has been weighing on me deeply lately.

2. Book: Stash: My Life In Hiding- By: Laura Cathcart Robbins

I love a good Memoir. People taking the leap to share their stories so others don’t have to feel alone. Perhaps even healing for the author.

While this book wrote about addiction, so much was relatable from the perspective of the mask she described wearing in trying to cover up her addiction. I don’t know what it is like to struggle with addiction. The way the author wrote and described her experience with it had me feeling connected to in some way. It made me wonder how her relationship with pills was maybe both her mask and her survival.

My own mask and survival have been silence. There was a part where Laura wrote about being ashamed to be around her friends after becoming sober. I felt connected through a parallel in my own life — contemplating sharing my diagnosis of AuDHD with family and friends. To me, it would mean breaking my silence, taking my mask off. While I know it is not shameful, the thought of removing my mask and sharing this feels terrifying. Not because I have AuDHD rather because now it feels that I am hiding it. I was deeply moved by the courage and determination of Laura to remove her mask and find herself.

3. Podcast: Diary of a CEO: Cognitive Decline Expert- Louisa Nicola

I am a fan of this podcast because of the host, Steven Bartlett’s interview style. He is so inquisitive feels easy to listen to. He has a breadth of interviewees and topics, and keeps the focus on gathering information on a specific topic, rather than being about aligning with what is being discussed.

This particular podcast was with an Alzheimer’s disease expert. So much of what was discussed were ways to train your brain now for health and longevity. My husband and I have been interested in finding ways to prepare ourselves for becoming older. We value being active and want to be present in our children’s lives when they are older. While there are many things we can’t control this podcast highlighted interesting approaches for taking care of your body and brain to support your overall longterm health.

Specifically, some of the ideas mentioned were: using creatine, pushing ourselves to do hard things to strengthen your neural connections, and sleep hygiene. While I don’t take anything here as a handbook, it has left lingering thoughts around building new habits that support the ultimate goal of aging well biologically.

I am wondering if anyone else has any good recommendations of leading experts in this area they follow? Bonus points if they focus on it from a woman’s perspective.

4. Substack: Umasking Safely After Late Diagnosis of AuDHD Discovery: What No One Tells You By:

This one hit close to home for me. My handle here on Substack is Unmaskingme, this one pierced my heart and opened something that I hadn’t considered before. The idea of autistic burnout. While I know that I have AuDHD, I hadn’t considered the best way to unmask that.

I thought that through finding my diagnosis, navigating my way through a career change that is more aligned to me was the change. What I hadn’t considered was that during a time of moving back across the country, making a career change, and having two children, would lead to me to where I am now. My current feeling is just always chasing the feeling of flow, while struggling to be still.

Recently my struggles have been navigating moments of being still making me want to crawl out of skin. And if you are parent with toddlers who delay bedtime, or take what seems like forever to decide on anything, it has been an excruciating battle in my head, every single minute. I know that being still, resting and recovering are essential. More than ever it is my worst nightmare. It is unsustainable and it feels like the only way to cope and be a good parent, therapist, and wife is to keep going. I am still sitting with this one. It has opened up something (needed) inside me. What I thought was the puzzle pieces coming together, was in fact, only a part of the puzzle coming together.

5. From the Therapists Chair (with coffee):

Lately I have been getting stuck in my work. And yes, therapists get stuck too What I mean by this is, I am hitting a pain point within myself where I know I need to do some deep inner work. I primarily work with couples and lately a common theme I have noticed has been around, one partner defending intention rather than focusing on the impact of the action. When I see the same pattern across many clients, I have to pause and ask why. I have reached this point with this pattern.

I feel there is more to this pattern. The question I often pose is something like, why is defending oneself more important than how it made the other person feel? I myself am not immune to this pattern. When I work through this question personally, I think about feeling misunderstood and feeling guilty for hurting someone. Why then are we willing to die on that hill before acknowledging our impact?

Let’s Chat!

I don’t have the answers. Frankly there are many questions. I am aiming to share for thought partnership. If something resonates, I would love to hear from you In the comments, or a DM!

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For most of my life I have felt profoundly invisible. I prefer to blend in. Attention has never felt like home. In groups, I tend to be the quiet one always listening intently, but never trying to bring attention to me. At 35, I don’t know if this is who I am or the role that I learned to play. I suspect the latter. I don’t have a specific memory of a moment where I felt profoundly invisible, it is more a chronic feeling. It is like the real me was watching this person be seen, and that someone wasn’t me.

I learned early how to be present without being known.

Feeling profoundly alone has looked like being in a room with family and, when attention turns to me, it is to point out my flaws. It is bringing up the mistake I made as a teenager every chance they get. It’s being reminded how emotional and sensitive that I am. It’s not that those things aren’t true, it is that they are used to shame me.

Strangely where I feel least alone is in big cities. I actually feel most alive there. There is nothing expected of me, and I can just be me. It feels freeing. And still, I don’t understand why I can feel seen among strangers but invisible among those closest to me.

I spent nearly eight years climbing the ladder in a career I thought was my dream job. In reality, it was one of the loneliest experiences of my life. I kept changing roles, convinced the problem was the job. It wasn’t. It was the life I was trying to force myself to fit into. I was struggling to accept what my body already knew. That was until I started my journey to becoming a therapist. From my first class to my first client, I felt something that I had never felt before: I was finding myself.

Sitting across from clients, I began recognizing a familiar expression, the subtle look of someone who has never quite felt known. I knew that look because I had worn it most of my life. And strangely because I recognized it in them, it felt effortless to help them feel seen. Reflecting their experience back to them, without ever saying I understood because I’d felt it too. And because I have felt that too, it felt like a kind of superpower. It brought that rare feeling, of being alive.

Feeling alive in my work has been profound in helping me to know myself. And Knowing myself in this way has allowed me to help others do the same. What I still struggle with is that the people closest to me don’t see this version of me. And maybe that’s the work now. Not learning how to be seen in the therapy room, but learning how to exist outside of it the same way. So why, even now, do I still sometimes feel so small?

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1. Substack: The Price of Silence: What Self- Betrayal Does to The Brain By: Vera Hart MD PHD

I came across this piece on the price of silence. It deeply resonated with me as I navigate my own journey in finding my voice. Something the author wrote that really pulled at me was,

“To remain silent when you know the truth is to spark a conflict inside your own nervous system, a war between survival and integrity, and the body keeps the score of that war in symptoms that arrive years later. Anxiety, depression, autoimmune storms. Silence carves a debt in the nervous system, even when the external world appears calm.”

I am trying to get out that debt now. It has shown up in so many ways for me including, anxiety, depression, and hypothyroidism. Not to mention in my journey to unmask and allow myself to take up space as a neurodivergent person. My silence has always been read as shy. But I am here to say now, that I am quiet, not empty.

2. Apple TV: Your Friends and Neighbors

On a slightly lighter hearted note, my husband and I recently watched this show with Jon Hamm (looovvveee him). I really enjoyed it. Don’t worry, I am not here to give away spoilers or recap episodes. The part that was the most thought provoking was this theme that whatever we have—whether it is things or relationships, it is really ours to lose. We can work hard to get all of the things, but what happens when we keep reaching for more, while neglecting to care for what we already have?

3. Audible: The Tell By Amy Griffin

I mean if you haven’t read this book and you are open to a thought provoking, yet rather emotionally heavy read, this is the book. This is a story on trauma and the journey to uncovering the truth. It was beautifully written. I was captivated by the story. While it is profoundly heavy, I found I resonated with the journey of uncovering the truth. While my journey does not include the same experiences as the author’s, what resonated was the journey to finding yourself through not only having to piece together your story by way of confronting your past, but how the telling of your story can be profoundly healing. I am in the midst of this. The courage that the author demonstrates in telling her’s is so incredibly inspiring and has further inspired me to keep trying to write my story.

4. Substack: Downsizing With Purpose in Midlife: How to Let Go of Cluter Without Losing What Matters By: Victoria Byrd

The community on Substack is amazing. I am loving the pieces I am finding from other authors. This piece in particular struck a chord in how we can be impacted by our environment and what it would mean to downsize with purpose. I am in the midst of what feels like constantly acquiring “things” as I have two toddlers. I also could probably be considered a professional “declutterer” of things. I am deeply impacted by chaos in my environment and am constantly wanting to get rid of things. Frankly, I do get rid of so much, but somehow there is still so much. I also regularly fantasize about just getting rid of everything and starting over from a more intentional space. Truthfully, my mind keeps pushing me towards my closet as a space to start downsizing with purpose. Honestly, I wear such a small percentage of what I own. I have also been interested in creating a capsule wardrobe. I love fashion, but the fatigue of choices on the daily, when I end up deferring to my same go to pieces just makes me feel guilty for all that I own and don’t wear. Living intentionally is part of my unmasking process, but I am wondering if this could be a small part of this process too. I am wanting to do this, so why not just do it?

5. Me: How does Substack fit into my Unmasking process?

I have been on Substack now for about a month with an incredible response. I am truly in awe of the experience as it is more than I could have imagined. From the warm welcomes, the community, and beautifully written pieces on such a range of topics. I feel I have found my place to tell my story, and write through my journey of unmasking. The tension that keeps coming up for me, is how much time to spend here. I am not a part of any other social media actively. I don’t have the apps on my phone. I intentionally moved away from social media as a way to shift my time spent on things that brought me more value. While I believe this space absolutely brings me more value, I find myself using my phone more to check Substack, engage, and read. I am finding these were the behaviors I was trying to get away from. I want to stay on Substack, but I am finding that I may need to create a system that feels more conducive to my needs. Perhaps only using it on my laptop versus on my phone and designate times during the day? I don’t want it to become a mindless thing that pulls me away from being present in my life. While simultaneously I want to be actively present and engaged when I am writing and engaged with the Substack community. It has me thinking about how other’s balance their time here.

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There is so much to say about the mental load, and the weight of carrying it can feel relentless. It is exhausting not only to hold it, but to keep trying to fix it. If there is one thing to take away, it’s this: the mental load isn’t heavy because you’re failing. It’s heavy because you care. And caring deeply, for a long time, without feeling understood will wear on anyone.

Relationships are rarely 50/50 on any given day, even though that is often the balance we think we’re supposed to achieve. The reality looks more like energy fluctuating—from day to day and person to person. Some days you have more to give. Some days you don’t. The same is true for your partner. When we stop expecting perfect balance and start expecting fluctuation, the conversation begins to shift.

When the focus shifts from perfectly balancing the load to attuning to one another, something important happens: awareness grows. Attunement doesn’t require mind-reading or perfection. It asks for curiosity. It’s not about doing everything right. It’s about noticing what the other person is carrying—and allowing them to notice what you’re carrying too.

Awareness and attunement can also highlight something uncomfortable: we don’t always care about the same things. There are some things you may simply care about more than your partner.I love having the bed made first thing in the morning. My partner cares less about it. It used to bring up resentment when he didn’t do it. What surprised me was how freeing it felt when I stopped expecting him to care about it the way I do. My acceptance wasn’t resignation—it was clarity. This is something I value, and I can choose to own it.There are things you may always care about more. And sometimes, choosing to own that rather than waiting to be met exactly where you are can feel unexpectedly freeing.

Awareness and acceptance alone won’t “fix” the mental load. But they can widen the lens. Slowing down from solution-seeking to curiosity shifts the vantage point from which we view it. It can pull us back from blame and loosen the grip of resentment. Patterns around the mental load are shaped by history, socialization, stress, and the unique context each partner brings into the relationship not because any one person is to blame. Maybe the work isn’t to fix the mental load once and for all. Maybe the work is to understand it how it formed, what it protects, and what each of you needs in order to stay open with one another.

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Let’s Chat!

If this resonates in anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

Each week, I’ll post a short list of books, podcasts, essays, or Substack pieces that I’ve been sitting with. Not because they’re life-changing or perfectly articulated, but because they sparked something an idea I can’t shake, a question that followed me into my day, or a feeling I’m still trying to put words to.

I’ll add a few thoughts about what each one stirred up for me. Sometimes it’ll connect to my work as a therapist, sometimes to my own inner life, and sometimes it’ll just be a loose thread I’m pulling on. These aren’t polished takes or firm conclusions—more like thinking out loud.

If you’re someone who likes to linger with ideas, notice patterns, or keep a running list of “things I’m still thinking about,” you’re in the right place. Maybe something here will get you thinking too.

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Vol. 1

1. Book: “Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance” By: Angela Duckworth

I have noticed a theme in the books I am reading lately. I also read “Peak: Secrets from the New Science of Expertise”. Clearly, I am curious about what it takes to get better at something. I have recently picked back up writing which I haven’t done since I was in school. What is lingering with me about the “Grit” is that the tension that comes with knowing when it is OK to quit something, versus when the idea of Grit is helpful. When is it OK to quit? How do you know when to keep pushing through?

2. Substack: One year of Saturday Dinners: Amanda Litman

This was one of the very first posts I read on Substack. I don’t know how it found me, but I am here for it. The idea of setting a new year’s resolution to host a dinner every Saturday is equal parts inspiring and brilliant. I have personally been longing to expand our social circle but we are also heavy in a season of parenting two toddlers. However, the author of this made this experience sound so tangible even in this season of life. While maybe I wouldn’t do it exactly the same way, though honestly it is very tempting to, it left me thinking, what are some ways that we could expand our social circle in this season of life?

3. Substack: Marina Cooley- Professor Off Duty- I Tried 17 hobbies in one year

Again, not sure how this found me, but SO glad that it did. This post highlighted the author’s experiment of trying different hobbies over the course of a year. So much about this post drew me in. I love the experiment of getting to try different hobbies to find one that can stick. I am also deep in a season of life, where it is consumed by work and parenting but am in need of some things for just me. This leaves me with a deep tension around doing something for me and being fully present as a parent among the other hats that I wear. It brings so much guilt to do something for myself, yet I KNOW I need to fill my cup.

4. Book: “French Kids Eat Everything: How our family moved to France, cured pick eating, banned snack, and discovered 10 simple rules for raising happy, healthy eaters”- Karen Le Billon

I normally and not pro recommending any kind of parenting books as I tend to feel like they can leave vulnerable parents feeling more shame if whatever strategy is being suggested doesn’t work for their kids. But I also equally get that when we are desperate for relief we are willing to try anything. So here I am. I have two toddlers who are picky eaters, and I was intrigued to learn how other cultures approach eating. While there is some serious rigidity to eating in France, there must be a method to the madness because the story here is quite compelling. This book has left me thinking about we approach food here in America versus in France. They have more of an approach of training the children’s palette as well as learning to enjoy eating. That is the general philosophy. It also holds the parents accountable for teaching the skills. The bottom line, this book has me and my husband rethinking how we are going to approach food and mealtimes as a family. We may not take all of the strategies, but it has certainly been food for thought. I am loving the idea of creating mealtimes as a place for connection and enjoyment, and more of just being present, while also nourishing our bodies. Does anyone have any fun mealtime rituals?

5. Everywhere you look: Countless pieces on living an “analog lifestyle”

This is more of a general thought as I have seen several posts and trends around talking about living more of an “analog lifestyle”. I am so here for that. I have started this journey 2 years ago when I deleted all social media (Instagram and Facebook even LinkedIn— I wasn’t on any others) and it dramatically shifted how I spent my time. I was so surprised by this. I have been thinking about how to expand this journey in the upcoming year. The first two years led me to go from a casual reader of a handful of books a year, to reading 58 books in 2025. One of the harder parts of that journey, was doing it alone. What I noticed was as I was spending less time on my phone, it was so much more obvious to me how much time others were spending on their phone. Part of me hoped it would help me with socializing, but I personally found it hard when other’s were still consumed in their phones. Instead I took up more individual hobbies, which I am not mad about. But the thought that sits with me, is wondering if this “analog lifestyle” will be just another trend? Or, could it start to build momentum that we might see the effects of people spending more time making eye contact with actual real life humans rather than their phones? Can you tell I am craving connection?

Let’s Chat!

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

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In furthering the conversation around the Mental load, what if we take it slow? What if we spend more time trying to understand it, than trying to fix it? This has been a theme of practice that I am trying to navigate in many facets of my life. Wading in the uncertainty rather than forcing a false sense of certainty. It has left me wondering if this could be a helpful strategy shifting the conversation or way of thinking of the mental load.

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When One Person Slowly Does More

In relationships a common dynamic that shows up would be where one person takes on the bulk of the responsibilities and the other falls into doing less or nothing role. And really it operates like a dance that looks like the more partner A takes on the less Partner B does. The less partner B does, the more partner A has to take on, and around and around the dance goes. The same can be true in reverse. Slow mismatch in balance often leads the person who feels they are doing it all to feel resentful and the other person to feel they are being controlled or they can’t do anything right. And why wouldn’t they? When trying to address it, it becomes about keeping score and expecting the other person to change. But what really happens when we expect one partner to change in order for the relationship to change? If the role of partners is intertwined wouldn’t they both need to change?

The longer that this dynamic persists, the more a narrative builds that can create disconnection. One that can often look like “she is so controlling” or “he is so lazy.” These narratives can be understandable. How could you not feel that someone who is doing nothing while you are doing everything isn’t lazy? And how might one feel if they were being told what to do? There are many things that could be said, here. Hell, what about- why do I even need to tell him what to do? But it leaves us stuck. The reality is the pattern didn’t start because one person was lazy or controlling. Perhaps we became those people as a result of unintentionally falling into roles? Perhaps this was a pattern that was fallen into rather than intentionally chosen by either person?

Change in this case would seem to ask something from both partners, not just of one person. Maybe it would look like the person who is over functioning to let go of somethings. Or the person who is under functioning to take on more. Or maybe perhaps it just brings out more curiosity around deepening the understanding how we feel about this. But what if we can understand this dynamic as not about a character flaw of any one person, would this feel more palatable? Could we let our guard down?

Let’s Chat!

If this resonates in anyway, I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

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The topic of the mental load has been showing up in my couple’s work. This doesn’t seem to be that surprising in and of itself as this topic has been discussed all over social media. It keeps showing up and I cannot stop thinking about it.

I regularly hear stories like:

“I manage everything. I ask him to do one thing and it can’t even get done, so I have to do it myself.”

“What’s the point of asking for help? He will either forget or I will have to explain it to him so I am better off doing it on my own.”

“He should just know.”

Or from his side:

“She is just mad because I am not doing it on her timeline.”

“When I do pitch in, it is never the right thing, or the right way so I just don’t.”

“I can’t read her mind”

What I keep noticing is that this story keeps showing up over and over again. This is not just one’s couple’s issue. It is pervasive across heterosexual relationships. As a side note, in my clinical experience this pertains to primarily heterosexual couples, but that is not always the case, but for the sake of my writing I be talking about heterosexual couples.

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So much of what I have read on the mental load subject helps us to name what is happening. It also primarily paints the picture that the load falls square on women’s shoulders. I do have a partner who actively participates in our relationship, and yet, I still notice what tends to fall on me versus him.

I am also trying to conceptualize this issue from another lens. Women’s experience of being exhausted from carrying the mental load and feel anger and even resentment, is understandable and makes sense. But doesn’t it also cost women something to be carrying the anger and resentment? I read something once with general gist that, resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to suffer. Women already have enough challenges to face they don’t need more weight to carry. This still leaves us without understanding why is this happening.

A common dynamic that plays out is that the female partner is angry and resentful towards her partner. While the male partner is somewhere along a spectrum of walking on eggshells, to trying to do the right thing and it never being right. To disengaging all together because they have failed to satisfy their partner. Any yet, this dynamic and leaving both people unhappy.

Much of what I work with couples on is trying to increase empathy and understanding for the other. But when a dynamic is stuck this way for years, it takes time to get there. The hardest truth tends to be around the idea that both people do contribute to the dynamic, and it is often without realizing it. It really is hard to accept, because even if no one person is at fault, it still hurts.

It may be wishful thinking, but what if both partners have to be willing to take accountability for something that they bring to the dynamic that has made it function in its current state? What if both partners had the opportunity to tangibly work on themselves to impact the dynamic while also knowing their partner is doing the same? The broader approach here is to move out of blaming about who is not carrying their weight, to being curious.

What would a better situation even look like? What if we weren’t looking for a completely equal split and instead we are looking for appreciation, intentionality and awareness of what it takes to run a household? Are these questions that far-fetched? If every couple of weeks the same fight occurs about who is doing what, or debating the details of he said she said, can we ever truly get to exploring truly productive questions? It makes sense that we want relief from the mental load, but placing blame seems to keep us stuck while adding more weight in the form of resentment.

What if we weren’t focused on villainizing one of the partners in the relationship and rather the work was to intentionally have a conversation that creates a framework for running a household that works for the couple? I don’t think there is a one size fits all approach despite this being the best hits of couple’s challenges. I do think that we have exhausted this current approach.

So where do we go from here? That is where I want to begin.

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Quiet, But Getting Louder

I’ve spent most of my life being quiet—blending in, listening closely, keeping my thoughts contained. But my inner world has never been silent.

I’m a mother, wife, couples therapist, and a deeply introverted woman recently diagnosed with ADHD and Autism in her 30’s. I sit with stories for a living—others’ and my own—and I can’t stop noticing the patterns, questions, and truths that refuse to stay neatly tucked away. Though, for a myriad of reasons they have stayed neatly tucked away.

This is where I let them out.

I don’t have answers. I have stories, reflections, and questions worth sitting with. My hope is that in sharing them, something stirs—connection, belonging, maybe even action.

If you’re drawn to thoughtful and honest exploration, on relatable topics such as relationships, parenting, friendships, and just being human, you’re in the right place. On a weekly basis I will be sharing a post with thoughtful questions and stories that linger with me, inspired by my own work, being a mother and wife, and diagnosed as Autistic and ADHD as an adult. There is so much to unpack, and I am sure that I am not alone in these experiences (though it certainly feels that way). More importantly so much of what lingers with me comes from my real life, but so much also comes from reading and listening to other people’s stories too. Each week I will also share a segment called, “What has me thinking” where I can share the work of other’s that has inspired me.

If this resonates with you in anyway I would love to think, share, and connect with you.

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