Anxiety and Overwhelm

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

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.

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,

Across Australia, 100,000 tamilies are affected by Perinatal Depression and Anxiety [PNDA] every year. Through pregnancy, and into baby's first year, PNDA can have a wide range of impacts, and can happen to parents of all shapes and forms. Help is available, reach out early and often. PANDA Help Line - 1300 726 306

as we move into this final season, release the urgency that comes with tying up all loose ends and leaving no stone unturned. For there will be another day, and there will be a new year. move softly, and move gently, move with intention, and move with gratitude, that we have made it through another wild year even if all we did was simply make it through. for the end of the year isn't always about endings and the new year holds space to pick up whatever it is that you may hav

While your feelings are always valid, it may be that your behaviour is not, Your feelings are intimately yours, and they can't be denied, or taken from you. and still, while it is not up to another to tell you how you should or shouldn't feel, we do still need to take accountability for what we say, and for what we do, in response to our feelings. It is our responsibility to be curious around what our emotions are telling us, to notice, without judgment, to regulate, and to b

no matter how beautifully or gracefully you move through your healing journey, for the progress you have made, and all that you have overcome, we are not immune to life, and we will still experience sadness, and fear, and anger, and joy. we will still experience life in all of its wonderful colours and all of its wonderful forms. and we will remain simply human, for the goal isn't to no longer feel, perhaps it is to expand our capacity to show up fully and authentically into

when you feel yourself moving into shutdown, and when you notice the loud withdrawal, practice moments of quiet connection, with those who feel safe, those who make you feel seen, those where you feel understood. even if just in those micro-moments. practice connection slowly, and gently, and allow it to be soft. honour your solitude, in a way that gives solace, rather than isolates, and be intentional for who you connect with. though, where able, continue to connect with you

when our pain lies untouched, it won't sit quietly or patiently in the shadows, It can be loud, and strong, and heavy, messy. growing bigger, with hope to be seen. It leads, and sometimes with force. pain shows up in our choices It colours our reactions, and shapes our view of self, and the world. pain settles in, and demands a home, until we invite it in. persisting. until we sit with it, until we hold it, until we allow a voice. and when we finally listen, and honour its pl

sometimes, when we start to set boundaries, we are met with discomfort, resistance, an offering of guilt, even by those who have once celebrated our new voice, and the boundaries we set, with others. it can make us question ourselves, want to withdraw, or want to reconnect with those people pleasing parts, that previously kept us safe. or at least we perceived they did. these parts that encouraged us to play small, to compromise our authenticity, to keep us palatable in our a

sometimes trauma is in the big moments, the things that we see, the things that feel obvious, the things that happened to us. and sometimes, when we feel confused about our bigger emotions, and we replay our life, in search of these seemingly bigger moments, we come up at a loss. not realising we are searching for something that wasn't there. that the trauma itself actually lies in what wasn't there. the hug that was missing when you were scared. the apology that never came.

burnout isn't always solved by rest. gentle mornings, turning off the noise, of course, rest matters. though returning to the same pace, same pressure, same patterns, allows exhaustion and heaviness to creep back in, or maybe never leave. rest matters, though burnout asks for more. burnout doesn't just come from doing too much, it is doing too much, in a space that is unsustainable, and being depleted in a system, that asks more than we can humanly give, a chronic misalignmen

there is no shame in choosing safety, and sometimes safety is all we can manage. we shut down, we numb, we disconnect, often it is necessary, it is primal, it is survival. though, there is a quiet cost to disconnection. sometimes it looks like emptiness, under guise of calm. and the pieces we push down, don't always stay hidden. they lose their invisibility, in our body, in our relationships, in the ways that we show up. they challenge capacity for joy, to find meaning, close

the more we move toward our own attachment security, the more we encourage our partner to do the same. it starts quietly, learning to voice our own needs, offering calm to our own fears, to stay present, when it would be easier to fight or flee or freeze. the pulling, the pushing, we soften the parts that once protected us, we no longer need silence to feel safe, or distance to feel in control. our anchor becomes internal, and we stop searching for it in others. when we pract

trauma is not what happens to us, it is what happens inside of us. when what happened was too much. too soon, too heavy, too fast, too much. and we are left alone to hold it. an imprint. it is in the silence that followed, the safety that stayed missing, the disconnect from our body, from others, and from ourselves. and survival isn't the same as healing, healing is slow, it is gentle. it is in connection. it happens when we feel safe enough, to come home to ourselves again,

not all emotions need to be solved or silenced, sometimes they just need space. to soften into an ache, to name what's there, without needing to fix, change, or make sense of it all. we can invite our emotions in, and offer them space, to feel without flooding. we can meet emotions gently, to be with, rather than lost in, to sit beside, rather than within, and know we don't need to carry them all the time, or forever, or all at once. we don't need to rush, or have it all figu

the new year has arrived, and with it, a familiar pressure. to be clearer, faster, more resolved. to have goals set, energy high, direction mapped out. to feel like you're already in it, and on top. and it can quietly trick you into feeling like you're already behind. you're not. the year is still wide open. unwritten. unfolding. today, and this month, needn't be seized or mastered. it can be met quietly. with intention. rather than urgency. it can be lead with presence, with

how do we heal, while we're still in it? when the threat has not yet passed, our nervous system on high alert, mobilised, protective. watching. our body functioning by its very design, to survive. and healing can feel confusing, slow, or even impossible. deep integration, insight, and resolution - inaccessible, and this season isn't for forcing calm, or finding closure, it is building enough safety for this moment, gently widening moments of choice, and noticing where agency

we speak often about setting boundaries, to use our voice, to honour our own needs, though receiving a boundary is a different type of pull. for when someone sets a limit, attachment activates - in all involved. and boundaries can land as abandonment, as threat, and as loss and it can stir something tender. attachment dysregulating, unraveling. and in that activation, the need to push, persuade, to soften the limit, or try once more, control, disguised as connection, we perce

the guilt you feel for setting boundaries, is a mirror for how deeply you were trained to self-abandon. to keep the peace meant keeping quiet, and closeness meant compliance, love felt safer when you were agreeable. so of course you flood with panic when you choose yourself now. though the discomfort doesn't mean you are doing something wrong, only that you are doing something different. and unfamiliar can feel unsafe, maybe dangerous, when self-betrayal once kept you connect