Along those lines, he regularly uses culture and religion to shame people and instill fear in the hearts and minds of White Americans. He instituted a travel ban from several Arabic countries to protect Americans from “terrorists.” He also built a wall between Mexico and the U.S. to keep out Mexican “rapists.” He fans the flames of prejudice and racism to spur fear of Black and Brown folx.

As therapists, we are taught to hold a neutral stance. Yet in the face of systemic injustice, neutrality can feel like complicity. My experience volunteering with asylum seekers has challenged me to integrate advocacy into my practice while remaining grounded in my clients’ needs and autonomy.

f you are in or considering a queer platonic relationship, know that your bond is valid and worthy of celebration. Whether you are sharing a home, co-raising a child, being an emergency contact or simply showing up for each other in deep and meaningful ways, your relationship matters. It deserves the same care, recognition, and respect as any other partnership.

In a world that often prioritizes romance, let’s honor the relationships that defy categories. Let’s celebrate all the ways we can love and support each other, queer platonically or otherwise.

It's not my place to label your relationships, but nor is it the place of anyone not in the relationship. What I’m getting at here is that old axiom you’ve likely heard: “Don’t assume because that makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me.’” If you see a hetero-appearing couple on the street, in the grocery store, or anywhere else, make a mental note to not straightwash them because truly, you have no idea what someone’s sexuality is until they tell you.

Authenticity requires courage.

Slowing down, then, is not just a lifestyle shift; it’s a reparative act. It tells the parts of you that were rushed through heartbreak, brushed past in grief, or silenced in fear that they matter now. That their feelings, their pace, their needs are valid. In a world that rewards urgency and productivity, choosing to move with care becomes an act of self-honoring. You stop pushing past yourself and instead start listening in.

This is where therapy or depth-oriented coaching can be transformative. When done by well-trained practitioners, these relational practices don’t impose direction; they offer a container where your own inner voice can rise and be heard.

A partner with discipline doesn’t need to chase the thrill of something new to feel desirable. They’re not seeking a high—they’re seeking something real. Their self-worth isn’t on the line every time attraction enters the room. That steadiness makes space for emotional depth.

Sex isn't separate from the rest of the relationship. When women feel unseen, unappreciated, or taken for granted, their bodies often respond by closing off. Not because they don't care, but because some deeper, wiser part of them refuses to be vulnerable without safety.

As a trauma-informed depth psychologist, I’ve witnessed that with trauma-informed therapy, somatic (meaning, body) practices, and compassionate relational repair, it's possible to rewire those patterns. But the first step is understanding you’re not broken, and your responses make sense given your history. Your nervous system is doing what it was trained to do. Healing doesn’t mean turning that sensitivity off – it means learning how to feel safe with it on. If you’re looking for suggestions, I have some.

The yoga sequence is not only a philosophical death and rebirth, it’s an embodied one. Each practitioner moves through the death and rebirth cycle physically. Why does that matter? Because embodiment is imperative to a happier and more fulfilling life. The body’s wisdom can support you in making decisions about what to do, or what not to do. (For a specific practice that uses the body to support you in gaining insight, check out Focusing and Felt Sense).

Healthy love doesn’t ask you to disappear. It doesn’t require you to manage someone else’s feelings or constantly prove your loyalty.

Healthy love invites you to stay connected to yourself and another.

It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being present—with compassion, with boundaries, and with the courage to love without losing yourself.

Sometimes, holding space means also knowing when to call in backup. Whether it’s a therapist, a support group, or a trusted friend, don’t hesitate to suggest (or seek) additional help. You’re not failing by doing so—you’re honoring the complexity of being human.

Back in my work with breast cancer survivors, this often meant helping participants find therapists or clinicians who understood the nuances of their identities. Everyone deserves care that sees the whole person. If you're unsure where to begin, a referral from a trusted professional can go a long way.

We surround ourselves with spaces that don’t ask us to shrink.

We grieve the times our creativity wasn’t welcomed.

And we practice choosing our aliveness over our fear.

Creativity doesn’t only belong to artists—it belongs to everyone. It belongs to the parent inventing new ways to connect with their child. To the lover discovering new ways to touch. To the survivor learning how to trust again. To the soul rediscovering its voice.

Instead of scheduling sex, consider scheduling time for erotic connection—which could mean anything from sensual touch, to taking a bath together, to lying in bed and fantasizing without any goal. The difference? Spaciousness. Curiosity. Freedom to explore without the demand to perform.

These patterns don’t simply vanish because we grow up—they linger and influence how we handle conflict, how we express love and affection, whether we feel safe depending on others, and how we cope with emotional closeness or distance. Inner child work invites us to revisit those early wounds with compassion and curiosity, not to blame, but to better understand the roots of our patterns and begin to reparent ourselves in ways that foster healing and secure connection.

We still live in a culture that prefers clear boxes—straight, queer, partnered, single, monogamous, poly—but those boxes don’t hold the full truth of who we are. What if we stopped trying to fit and simply started feeling? What if we trusted our turn-ons, our longings, our quiet knowing?

You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need a new label to justify your exploration. You just need to listen inward and follow what feels alive.

You are not too late.
You are not broken.
You are not betraying your past.

The end of a long-term relationship, especially a marriage or domestic partnership, often brings with it a specific kind of grief: one that’s not just about losing a person, but about losing the world you built with them—and the version of yourself that lived in that world.

This isn’t just a breakup. It’s a death of self.
It’s an ego death.
It’s the dark night of the soul.

Because sex, at its best, is not just an act.
It’s a way of being in touch—with your aliveness, your truth, your connection, your body, your boundaries, your becoming.

You deserve that level of knowing.

And that’s why I do this work.