I have been scrolling through my newsfeed the last few days, reading, “liking,” and sharing certain articles addressing the devastating news of the killing of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile by police officers. Even just typing that sentence feels disgusting and cowardly. I’ve been silent beside those swipes of my fingers. I have felt sick, enraged, helpless, guilty, hopeless, devastated, and weak.
Although, quite frankly, I’m not sure it matters how I feel…and coming from a therapist, I know that is a pretty rich thing to say. I say that because it doesn’t matter what I feel in this situation, it matters what I do (or don’t do). It matters what I say (and don’t say). It’s like I tell my clients, young and old, feelings are there to tell you something, often to spring you into action, hopefully thoughtful action. But here I am. Actionless. White, privileged, and absolutely zero action.
Continue reading my silence and inaction as a white person.
Self-care. Where art thou? What doth thou mean? How do I locate thee? How do I know if I need thee?
Continue reading 7 ways to get your life ready for self-care.
When I was younger, and by younger I mean any time before this exact moment, I thought the 20s were “it.” It is obviously a bit vague and dodgy, hence the italics. They seemed glamorous and more importantly full of having your shit together. Does that sound like your 20s? If so, nice work. High five! Write a book, tell us your secrets. If not, you’ve got company.
Continue reading your 20s probably blew (or are still blowing) and why no one bothered to tell you.
Welcome to my first post on my blog (seriously hate that word) my something to say. I’ve always loved writing. It’s been kind of obnoxious my whole life. Even in school I loved writing. I had a professor in undergrad tell me once, “You’re a great writer, but I don’t need to hear every single thought you have.” As I type that it sounds harsher than how I took it…or how I thought I took it.
Continue reading the fear of failing before you even start.