Trust is often spoken about as if it’s solid, as something you either have or don’t have. But in reality, trust is delicate. It shifts. It wavers. It grows in one moment and trembles in the next. In therapy, I see how fragile trust can feel, especially for people who’ve learned to survive by being cautious. When your history has taught you that closeness can hurt, trust becomes something you approach slowly, like the way you tentatively touch a surface to see if it is hot. Fr

There’s a moment in therapy — sometimes early, sometimes much later — when a client looks at me and says, “I don’t know if anything is happening.” It’s not always these words, sometimes there are no words at all, just a sense they are standing in the middle of a journey without a map, wondering whether the path is leading anywhere at all. I understand that feeling. I’ve felt it myself, both in my own inner work and in the slow unfolding of this blog. Trusting the process is r

I forgot to post to this blog this morning. I promised myself I would have something ready for the second and fourth Wednesdays of each month and I hadn’t written anything. I felt pressured, hurried to get something written. But this month I’m writing about accepting a slower pace, so even though I’m trying to move more slowly, embracing stillness and accepting growth can take its time, life still finds ways to hurry me along. A full diary, a forgotten task, a moment that sli