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“I’m not good enough.” “I’m powerless.” “I don’t matter.” “It’s not safe to show my emotions.”- do any of these thoughts sound familiar? As an EMDR therapist I’d argue that we’ve all had some variation of these negative beliefs cross our mind at some point or another and without much challenge accepted them to be true.

“I’m not good enough.” “I’m powerless.” “I don’t matter.” “It’s not safe to show my emotions.”- do any of these thoughts sound familiar? As an EMDR therapist I’d argue that we’ve all had some variation of these negative beliefs cross our mind at some point or another and without much challenge accepted them to be true.

When we ruminate, our brain is signaling our minds to keep thinking about the same thing over and over. This process often time is automatic giving you very little control over deciding how you want to initiate a thought.

I grew up on the East Coast of Florida. My mom has lived in the same house my whole life, down the road from an elementary and a middle school, public housing next to the schools, grocery stores and a shopping plaza on the other side. Trailor Park up the road.

“Take a deep breath,” they say. “Do breathing exercises.” “Let go of your thoughts” Although these suggestions/techniques are effective in helping with some anxious episodes, panic attacks, and other symptoms, these are not always effective with the process in which a person experiences the final outcomes of an anxious state of mind. I’ll explain what I mean…

In the past year, we’ve heard discussion in popular culture about what “sobriety” means. “Sober” sober (abstaining from everything) versus “California sober” (not doing harder drugs but still getting high).
I’ve had philosophical discussions with clients regarding what “sobriety” means to them…

Explaining depression to others is exhausting. Not to those who experience it. We know how it feels, we know what it destroys. The numbing pain, the dark thoughts, and the dirtied filter we see the world through. The vulnerability of our uttered words and teary eyes. Received with blank stares by many.

Once upon a time, in a town not too far from here, we begin a story of escapism. Now, we could go back generations and talk about family histories, alcoholics who spent paychecks on bathtub gin, opiate eaters and who knows what else, but for the purposes of this tale, we’ll stick to the (relative) present.

A secret life, lying effortlessly, the perfect public image, a sense of self-importance that requires admiration from others. As I write this blog, I asked myself, am I describing a Hollywood action movie character like James Bond?

The clean ones. The one’s who have never felt real pain. They wear the sheen of someone who has never suffered. A patina of purity, a veneer that speaks of the innocence of never having hurt. The vacant look of kind confusion when they are asked to understand one who has suffered.