When I’m overwhelmed, there’s this voice or thought that says, “This isn’t real.” It’s unsettling, but it turns out it’s a common response. It’s a kind of dissociation—your mind’s way of creating distance when emotions or stress feel unbearable.

This mechanism, while protective, can be disorienting. Recognizing it as part of a pattern has been eye-opening for me. It doesn’t make the experience easier in the moment, but it reminds me I’m not broken—this is how the mind copes with intensity.

Through working on my trauma, I’ve started to feel like I’m accidentally becoming an expert in it. Healing brings a strange, quiet expertise—one I didn’t expect but have come to respect.

Feeling frozen after a meaningful conversation, I found myself longing for support but unsure how to ask for it. This moment of disconnection led me to explore the complexity of seeking reassurance, the fear of rejection, and the relief that can come from being seen and validated—even when it feels impossible to articulate your needs.

When emotional overwhelm hits after a period of ease, it can feel like a runaway train. In this conversation, I reflect on the struggle to reconnect with self-compassion, the frustration of forced techniques, and the deeper need to find authenticity in moments of chaos.

Reflecting on my childhood memories, I’m starting to piece together how practical care often overshadowed emotional depth in my family. While my parents provided for us, the lack of deeper connection left lasting gaps. In this conversation, I explore how those early patterns shaped my struggles with self-worth, trust, and vulnerability—and what it means to confront them now.

The idea of embodiment—loving, appreciating, and listening to the body—feels unsettling to me. Framing the body as something to revere feels like replacing one higher power with another. In this conversation, I unpack my resistance to these ideas and explore the tension between seeking stability and navigating the subjectivity of what “feels true.”