The alarm goes off at 6:30, but you’re already awake — not because you’re rested, but because your mind has been buzzing since before dawn. There’s a tightness in your chest that settles in before your feet even touch the floor. Your first thought isn’t “Time to start the day” — it’s, “I can’t do this.”
You lie there a little longer, scrolling through your phone, hoping for distraction but finding only more reasons to feel overwhelmed: messages you don’t have the energy to answer, headlines you don’t want to read, perfect pictures of people who seem to have their lives together. What’s wrong with me?
Eventually, guilt wins over exhaustion. The kids need you. Work expects you. You move through your routine mechanically — brushing your teeth, avoiding your own reflection because you can’t face your eyes today.
You grab the closest clothes — leggings and a hoodie — because thinking about your appearance feels like one task too many. You make breakfast, pack lunches, heat up yesterday’s coffee. The kids ask questions, forget their socks, and you snap — then immediately feel ashamed. They don’t deserve this version of you.
Your heart pounds for no reason. You lose track of simple things — your keys, the day, whether you fed the dog. Anxious thoughts circle endlessly: Did I mess up that meeting? Can people tell I’m not okay?
You leave the house with smudged makeup and no appetite. You tell yourself, “Just get through the next hour.” You smile when needed, but it’s not real. You’re not thriving. You’re surviving. And the hardest part? Pretending you’re fine when you’re anything but.
Yet somewhere beneath the exhaustion, you catch glimpses of who you once were. The mornings that didn’t feel so heavy. The energy, the laughter, the ease of simply being. The part of you that believed in possibility, craved adventure, and found comfort both in solitude and connection — she’s still there, buried beneath layers of pain and exhaustion.
Healing isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about gently, patiently returning to yourself. The version of you that feels joy, trusts your strength, and sees life as something to explore — she’s waiting. And when the fog begins to lift, she’s ready to rise.
When we talk, you won’t have to pretend you’re okay. This is a space where you can finally exhale. We’ll slow things down, gently untangle the heaviness you carry. You’ll have permission to feel everything — sadness, anger, numbness — without judgement.
.
Sometimes we cry, sometimes we laugh, sometimes we simply sit quietly and breathe. You’ll start to reconnect with the version of yourself you thought was lost — the one who felt hopeful, joyful, alive.
Together, we’ll explore new ways to overcome obstacles and gently soften the pain you’ve been holding on to for far too long. It’s not about fixing you. It’s about coming home to yourself. You don’t have to go through this alone.
If you’re ready to take the next step on your healing journey, I’m here to support you. Together, we’ll create a space where you feel safe, seen, and heard. Whether you’re struggling with anxiety, depression, or life’s heavy moments, there is a way forward.