You may have heard about somatic therapy from TikTok, your trauma-informed friend, or even your last therapist. But if you’re still not totally sure what it is—or whether it’s right for you—you’re not alone.

There’s a particular kind of ache that comes with burnout. It’s not just exhaustion—it’s a bone-deep weariness paired with a quiet, persistent question: Is this really all there is?

You didn’t start your career expecting this. At one point, you were driven, creative, maybe even lit up by what you were building. But somewhere along the way, the hustle became survival. And now, after months (or years) of pushing, striving, and sacrificing sleep for output, you’ve hit a wall.

In conversations about trauma healing, the focus is often on resolution. Closure. A turning point that finally makes everything make sense.

That’s not how complex trauma works.

So you’ve found a therapist who gets it—someone you actually want to open up to. There’s just one problem: they’re out-of-network with your insurance. Cue the headache.

From the outside, things seem solid. You’ve got the job, the relationship, the resume that makes your parents proud. Maybe you’re even the one your friends go to when their lives are falling apart. And yet, something in you feels...flat. Untouched. Disconnected.

For many professionals in their 20s and 30s, the dream of meaningful work has collided headfirst with the reality of bills, burnout, and not nearly enough hours in the day. You may find yourself stuck in a job that drains you—emotionally, mentally, even physically—but the thought of leaving feels impossible. There’s rent to pay, student loans hanging over your head, maybe a family depending on your income. So you stay.

You may have come across EMDR therapy in a podcast, article, or a conversation with a friend. It’s one of those therapeutic approaches that sounds both intriguing and a little mysterious: Eye movements? Reprocessing trauma? Can that really help?

Let’s get real for a second. You know that feeling where you want to be the perfect client? The one who does all the right things, says all the right words, and—most importantly—looks like they have their life together? Yeah, I see you.

If you live in or around Montrose, you already know this neighborhood has a certain energy: creative, eclectic, deeply human. It’s also a place where a lot of people walk around with invisible wounds — trying to hold it together while quietly unraveling. Therapy here doesn’t have to be a cold, clinical process. It can be something more personal, more grounding, and more honest.

One of the most bewildering experiences of healing from relational trauma is this: missing the very people who caused us pain.

You might find yourself replaying memories. Longing for connection. Wondering if things were really as bad as you once believed. You may even feel shame for the grief you carry—as if you're betraying your healing process by missing someone who harmed you.

At some point—usually somewhere between your 30s and 50s—many men find themselves staring out the car window in traffic, gripping the steering wheel, and asking silently,
“Wait… is this it?”

If you’re the kind of person who reads self-help books “for fun,” Googles your symptoms before calling the doctor, or has ever been told you’re “so self-aware,” this one’s for you.

Have you ever felt torn between two opposing urges—like part of you wants to say yes, but another part is screaming no? Or found yourself stuck in a spiral of self-criticism you can't quite shake? Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy offers a compassionate framework for understanding these internal conflicts—not as signs of brokenness, but as evidence of a rich and complex inner world that’s trying to help you survive and thrive.

If you've ever taken an attachment quiz online and sighed at the results, you're not alone. Many of us have had the experience of reading about anxious or avoidant attachment and thinking, “Yikes. That’s me.” It can feel like getting handed a relationship report card you never knew you signed up for.

We live in a world that often encourages optimism and positivity at all costs. Phrases like "just stay positive," "everything happens for a reason," or "it could be worse" are common responses to life’s challenges. While well-intentioned, these types of responses can sometimes do more harm than good. This relentless pressure to be positive is known as toxic positivity—the belief that no matter how difficult or painful a situation is, you should only focus on the positive.

When we think of depression, we usually picture someone feeling sad, empty, or exhausted—like they’re running on low battery. But what if, for some people, depression isn’t about low energy at all?

So, you know something happened. You feel it in your body. It shows up in the way you flinch at certain tones of voice, in the way your stomach knots up when someone is even slightly disappointed in you, in the random waves of anxiety that hit you out of nowhere. But when you try to pinpoint the memory? Nothing. It’s like your brain just peaced out and left you with all the symptoms but none of the details.

“You have to love yourself before you can love someone else.” It’s one of those phrases that gets thrown around so often, it almost feels like an absolute truth. The kind of advice that sounds wise, encouraging—even necessary. But here’s the problem: it’s not entirely true.

If you’ve ever felt ashamed of your anxiety, self-doubt, or the way you shut down in stressful situations, I want you to take a deep breath for a moment. The things you struggle with now—the patterns you wish you could change—likely started as survival instincts. At some point in your life, they helped you get through something hard. And that means they make sense.

If you have an anxious attachment style, dating can feel like an emotional rollercoaster. One moment, you’re feeling hopeful and excited about a new connection, and the next, you’re overanalyzing a text message, wondering if you said something wrong. You might find yourself craving reassurance, worrying about how much someone likes you, or feeling intense emotional highs and lows depending on how a relationship is going.