A therapist reflects on our ever-changing bodies, the line between self-care and control, and how to relate to your body as a friend rather than an opponent.

If you've been researching EMDR, you've probably found the clinical description: eight phases, bilateral stimulation, Adaptive Information Processing. That language tells you almost nothing about what it actually feels like to sit in the chair and do it.

I've been reading The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, and one line stopped me completely:

“I know you think of me as your mother only, but please remember, inside I am also just a girl.”

If you've heard about EMDR therapy, your first reaction may have been a mix of curiosity and confusion. Move my eyes back and forth to heal trauma?

You've started therapy, maybe your first session, maybe not, and wonder what to say. If you've ever sat in a therapy waiting room or before a laptop for a virtual session and felt blank, you're not alone

At your six-week check-up, the doctor asks how you are feeling, and you hesitate. Yes, you have cried more than you ever expected.

There is a common belief about new motherhood that gets in the way of mothers getting help: the idea that being constantly anxious is just part of the job

I imagine my son 15 or 20 years from now sitting around a table talking with some new friends. Maybe he met them at college or at the park playing soccer. They connect over their shared love of the outdoors and taste in music. Someone asks "so what's your family like?" Wow, what a big question.

Every year around Mother’s Day, there is a question that quietly circulates at brunch tables and across social media: What do you want this year?

Something does not feel right. You’ve had your baby, and everyone around you seems overjoyed. But instead of feeling the happiness you expected, you feel distant. Or empty.

You’ve just had a baby, or maybe you’re still pregnant. People keep telling you this should be the happiest time of your life. But something feels off.