The Kind Collections

Trauma isn't always what happened to you. Sometimes, trauma is what didn't happen. It is the love, safety, warmth, and attunement that stayed missing.

Maybe, it would have been helpful if you knew that back then, if you were aware of your patterns, while you were still in them. Maybe, things might have looked different, You might have said something different, You might have engaged with people, or the world, in a different way. And still, those parts of you were trying to protect you. They did all that they knew, just as they knew how. And, it is still helpful to know now. To engage with people, and the world differently n

Your new life is going to cost you your old one. It's going to cost you your comfort zone, and sense of direction. It's going to cost you relationships and friends. It's going to cost you being liked and understood. It doesn't matter. The people who are meant for you, are going to meet you on the other side. You're going to build a new comfort zone, around the things that actually move you forward. Instead of being liked, you're going to be loved. Instead of being understood,

Instead of trying to find the one, I wonder if you could focus on being the one, for you.

An emotion can not tell its story, if we refuse to learn its name. And before we can release what we carry, we must first become familiar. To pause, to notice, to witness, to understand. This is grief. This is fear. This is loneliness. Not as labels, but as invitations. An offering to turn inward, with warmth and curiosity. To sit beside what hurts. For what we are willing to meet, we are less likely to fear. And what is no longer feared, may soften on its own. In its own tim

Every emotion has a function. The emotions that are painful, those connected to fear stories, even those emotions that feel easier to hold. They all have a purpose, and all have their place. They all work together, and they all want desperately for us to survive. There is such a beauty in getting to know them, and to hold space for them. To show them kindness and compassion, when they are louder, when they are bigger. The emotions that co-exist, those that feel more obvious,

instead of waiting for someone else to make the first move, to reach out and to initiate repair, i wonder how it might feel to empower yourself to release yourself from the binds of another's actions, to use your voice, to assert your needs, to set a boundary, to reach closure in the form of walking away sure, sometimes we feel we 'shouldn't have to' that the ball is in their court. though this can also keep us stuck. making conscious choices and making movement, releases us

There are no bad parts. all our parts, and all parts of self have formed and adapted through our life and been shaped through our experiences all these parts are trying desperately to protect us to protect us from hurt, to protect us from shame, to protect our energy, and our boundaries, to protect us from our fear stories. there are no bad parts. though, it may help to reflect on what parts we hope to connect to what parts bring out our light what parts allow us to connect t

Because, our nervous system doesn't discriminate between our trauma and someone else's. it doesn't say, "I will only mildly dysregulate you, because someone else 'had it worse'.." Trauma isn't measurable, and so it isn't comparable. @drjenwolkin

I hope you find getting to know yourself As exciting as you find getting to know a lover Because you are so much fun to love And every time you buy a chocolate chip cookie Because you know it's your favourite Or you order a coffee exactly how you like it Or bring water to your bedside For when you're thirsty in the middle of the night Or you put on your favourite movie [even though you've seen it a million times] Or you order in so you don't have to worry about dinner I hope

"my trauma made me stronger" but, my darling, you were never supposed to be strong. you were always supposed to be protected. and truly, it is so wonderful that in face of your trauma you had inner strength. that you fought, that you adapted, that you survived. honestly, its a miracle. though, you were never supposed to be strong. you were supposed to be loved, and held nurtured, and fiercely protected. shown warmth, and grace, and kindness a softness. afforded safe space to

Be curious, the pain and discomfort is there to communicate to you that something is not okay, something is not alright. maybe, instead of fighting it, suppressing it, meeting it with criticism, be curious, curious around what feels familiar curious around what it is that you need, or what you need to release, maybe, instead of numbing, let it surface, meet your pain and discomfort, listen, and hold space for what it needs.

oftentimes we hold achievement and output, as a measure of our worth. something that we can see, something tangible, something to help us anchor into our "good enoughness" to know that I am safe we fill our days with work, and meetings and hustle, with the same inner dialogue, the same old stories, "the more I do, the more worthy I am" we burn ourselves out to prove to ourselves we are doing enough and yet, it still doesn't satisfy. maybe, there are measures that are more kin

Trauma is someone pouring red paint on the floor in the middle of your living room.. You see the mess it has caused; it's not your mess, but it's your living room. So, you clean it up. It's a lot of work to clean up red paint, and it takes a lot of time, but your living room is back in order... Months later, you notice an adjacent wall is speckled with small bits of red paint that you missed.. You try to ignore it, but an old friend comes to visit, and they point it out. So,

With a new season, we can welcome new opportunities to re-emerge, to refresh, and to reflect And in our spring cleaning, perhaps we can think about our patterns, the same way we think about our clothes. What can we let go of, as we embrace for a new season of life? Those we want desperately to fit, that we can't seem to let go of? The ones that once made us comfortable, that now no longer serve us. The styles we copied from others that maybe never really belonged. Those that

in the dance between attachment that is anxious, and attachment that is avoidant, and maybe attachment that falls somewhere in between, there can be an idea that one is better, morally superior, one shows they care more through an impassioned closeness and louder expressions of love, one shows the same through avoidance avoidance of conflict, and of intensity, stepping away in attempt to keep the peace. though we are not so different, you and l.. for ultimately in our attachm

To tell someone they are stronger because of their trauma, is to deny what it cost them to survive @nate_postlethwait

to be "over" grief, is to oversimplify grief. for we don't get over it, we move through it. grief is not tied in a neat bow, or tucked away in a tidy box. it is messy, it is heavy, it is human. we carry it, we sit in it, we hold it, and it holds us in return. the idea that we are supposed to just "get over it" is to devalue our human experience, and to devalue our extent of loss, and of love.

if we can reflect and find that we are the common denominator in a pattern that keeps showing up in our lives perhaps we can meet this with compassionate curiosity... to wonder why we keep choosing this or for which parts of self keep choosing this. to take accountability for those parts that [though perhaps well-intentioned] move in ways to keep us stuck. the awareness of, and insight into our patterns coupled with grace and kindness for those tender parts can empower us to

Spend time in your emotions, Be curious, and want to know them intimately. Form deep relationships and deeper understanding. Our emotions visit to help us make meaning. They are beautiful guides to communicate how we feel about something, when perhaps we were not sure. and while they needn't storm ahead, and lead our every move, we can thank them for the valuable information they provide to guide our direction, and help forge our path forward. In our hurry to push them away,