Winter has a way of slowing us down, asking us to turn inward and listen more closely. It's a season when old pain can surface, especially for those of us engaged in trauma therapy or healing work. Many of us feel the numbness, the fatigue, or the quiet overwhelm that often follows years of bracing ourselves through stress and survival. This time of year invites something different. It asks us to not just manage or cope, but to build a relationship with our bodies that suppor

Something shifts when the call to support others begins to feel heavy in a way it didn’t before. Many therapists reach a point where the container of traditional therapy no longer feels like home. That quiet whisper might sound like fatigue, disconnection, or a steady craving for deeper freedom. If you’ve felt pulled toward becoming a life coach, you’re not alone. This isn’t just about switching jobs. It’s a return to something older and wiser in you. Winter invites reflectio

We often think of the therapist as the calm one in the room. The grounded one. The person holding space while someone else falls apart or unravels. But what happens when the person doing the holding carries wounds of their own, tucked away out of reach? What happens when that pain goes unseen or unhealed? A therapist is still a person. And healing work, especially in a world shaped by racism, patriarchy, and disconnection, requires a capacity that is deeply personal. When unr