Feeling stuck in relationship patterns? Discover how compassion, accountability, and vulnerability—the three pillars of intimacy—can reignite the spark in your relationship.

Purity culture promised safety but left many of us disconnected from our bodies and desires. Discover how to reclaim intimacy, trust, and joy—in yourself and your relationships—without shame.

Learn how childhood trauma programs the nervous system—and how to heal reactivity in relationships. Discover trauma-informed tools for nervous system regulation and connection.

Purity culture leaves lasting scars on intimacy and connection. Learn how couples therapy can help you heal shame, rebuild trust, and reconnect.

You don’t need to be partnered to start healing relational patterns. Learn how to embody healthy power, reconnect to yourself, and build trust in future love—starting now.

Struggling to set boundaries after a toxic relationship—or with people who drained your energy? Learn why your nervous system resists “no,” and how to reclaim your voice with love and power.

When your heart races after a text.
When you flinch at a tone.
When you shut down mid-conversation because your whole system says “Nope, not safe.”
That’s not overreacting—that’s survival.

Motherhood is intensely personal—but it’s also deeply cultural. What’s expected of you, what’s offered to you, how you’re seen (or not seen)—that’s shaped by the systems around us.

That’s why individual healing isn’t enough. We need spaces that remind us we’re not alone. We need places to feel seen, to be real, to unravel the myth that we’re supposed to know how to do all this perfectly.

There’s this quiet myth floating around that when we become mothers, we’ll just know how to do it. Like it’s hardwired. Like it’ll click.

Sometimes it does. But often, motherhood feels more like being thrown into a new country where we don’t speak the language—but everyone expects us to lead the tour.

The truth is: motherhood is a full-body experience.

I don’t remember everything about those early days of motherhood—but I do remember the ache in my forearms, the smell of breast milk on every shirt I owned, and the desperate craving for adult conversation that didn’t revolve around sleep schedules or nipple shields.

What I didn’t know at the time—what no baby book or prenatal class could prepare me for—was how essential the village would be. Not just the “Let’s get coffee sometime” kind of friends—but the “I see your crazy eyes and I’m on my way with snacks” kind. The kind who’d let themselves in without knocking and hand you a baby wipe before you even knew you needed it.

Anxiety is like that one friend who overstays their welcome. You didn’t invite them, they show up unannounced, and suddenly they’re weighing in on everything—from how you load the dishwasher to whether your partner actually meant that text the way they said they did. Fun, right?

If you’ve ever found yourself lying in bed replaying a conversation for the tenth time or tensing up when things get too quiet (because surely that means something is wrong), you’re not alone. Anxiety loves to take up space—not just in your mind but in your body, too. And when it comes to relationships, the effects can be surprisingly sneaky.

In a world where power is often loud and forceful, the quieter forms of power can be easy to overlook - especially in our relationships. We might picture power as "winning" arguments or calling the shots, but true relational power - the kind that fosters intimacy and trust - looks very different. And within that, soft power is perhaps the most transformative force of all.

Disappointment sucks. It makes us question things—our choices, our people, our entire belief system. It whispers, Maybe you’re just not good enough. Maybe this world is broken beyond repair. Maybe you should just go back to bed and binge a show about people who inexplicably own yachts.

But here’s the deal: Disappointment is not your enemy. It’s a truth-teller. It shows up to say, Hey, something mattered to you here. Something was important enough that you’re feeling this way. And that means disappointment isn’t just an emotional trash fire—it’s an opportunity.

Our brains are wired to make sense of the world by creating stories, but these stories aren’t always accurate. Social psychology calls this attribution theory: we tend to blame a person’s character (internal factors) for their behavior while ignoring the external circumstances that might explain it.

As the New Year begins, many of us are setting personal goals, but what about goals for our relationships? For couples, this season offers an opportunity to reflect on where you’ve been and where you want to go—together. After all, who needs another failed gym membership when you could be working on flexing your relationship muscles?

Every relationship has its challenges. Over time, old patterns can create cracks in the foundation of even the strongest partnerships. But these cracks don’t mean the relationship is broken; they’re simply an invitation to rebuild—kind of like upgrading from a rickety treehouse to a luxury cabin.

If religion builds the holiday frame and the patriarchy loads it onto our shoulders, capitalism drapes it in shiny tinsel and screams, “Spend your way to joy!” This season isn’t just a time for connection—it’s capitalism’s main event, a whirlwind of consumption wrapped in a big red bow. And the message is clear: you can’t have a magical holiday without buying it.

If religion sets the stage for holiday expectations, the patriarchy casts women as the lead performers—tasked with creating, sustaining, and perfecting the magic of the season. It’s an unspoken truth: while everyone enjoys the warmth and wonder of the holidays, it’s often women who shoulder the invisible labor that makes it all possible.

The holidays are supposed to be a time of joy, peace, and celebration. For many of us, though, they carry a heavy weight—especially when our relationship with religion is complicated or changing. Faith traditions are deeply embedded in the season, from the songs we sing to the rituals we’re expected to perform. And while those traditions can offer comfort and meaning, they can also feel stifling when the experience no longer aligns with who we are.

If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed, resentful, or just plain tired of the holiday hustle, this series is for you. Let’s question the expectations, reclaim what feels real, and redefine this season together.

For years, I lived disconnected from both breath and body. I was surviving—sometimes barely, sometimes doing pretty good!—caught in the whirlwind of stress and overwhelm, unaware that I was holding my breath and ignoring my body’s quiet calls for attention.

Everything changed when I began to listen.