The importance of validation is something I emphasize with couples as it creates a dynamic based on understanding rather than score-keeping or proving right and wrong. In an emotionally charged conversation, it's common for individuals to focus primarily on their own emotional experience instead of their partner’s. Rather than listening to what the other person is saying, we may be thinking about our own response.
A common struggle for many of my clients in their 20s is navigating friendships. This includes friendship conflicts, growing apart, reassessing the closeness of the friendship, and defining what types of friendships feel fulfilling in which ones feel draining. In these conversations, we explore the importance of flexibility in friendships and why it becomes so much more pertinent during this life stage.
I have thought through every situation from every possible angle my brain can come up with and analyzed so much of my life and experience that it often feels exhausting. This “self-awareness” can start to feel incredibly frustrating when I have some understanding, yet I still find myself in familiar patterns or generally not feeling better. If this description sounds familiar to you, you might be intellectualizing your feelings vs. actually feeling them.
I recently stumbled upon the concept of animal chronotypes, which can be used to describe our personality traits based on our natural tendencies in social interactions and behavior. While these archetypes are often linked to sleep habits, they’re also super helpful for understanding how we connect with others. Each chronotype has its own unique traits and ways of navigating relationships.
We were discussing a painful experience, and I was once again struck and inspired by their resilience. In this situation, I found a way to express this sentiment in the moment. However, there are many instances where sharing in the moment might not be the most therapeutic response. Even when I don’t vocalize it, I want my clients to know I carry these feelings and this care with me. Reflecting on this, I began to consider all the things I wish my clients knew about me, about the therapeutic relationship, and the process.
I have always struggled with taking a break. Whether it’s scheduling an appointment midday, taking a self-care day, or going on vacation, I automatically experience guilt. However, as a therapist, I am constantly helping my clients carve out time for themselves on a daily, weekly, and monthly basis. It feels so clear when speaking to others that we must all step away from our daily lives and take time to recharge. Yet it’s been so hard for me to take my advice and FULLY step away.
The phrase “bids for connection” was coined by husband and wife couples therapy powerhouse Julie and John Gottman. A “bid for connection” is any attempt for connection made by one person to another. These bids can be verbal, non-verbal, overt, or covert. We make countless bids for connection throughout our days within all of our relationships. For this blog post, we are going to focus on how this applies to our romantic relationships.
In the last six months, I have experienced both the most joyous and most painful moments of my life, often in the same week, day, or even hour. I have cried holding friends and then found myself doubling over with laughter within the same embrace. I have celebrated unions of love while mourning those who weren’t there to celebrate with me. I have intellectually understood the concept that we can hold multiple emotions at once, but this year taught me to truly notice and appreciate the way my heart has been able to stretch in new ways to hold these intense, often conflicting experiences.
You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, watching the clock tick, and you start counting the hours of sleep and panicking about the next day if you don’t fall asleep this very second. Is this a familiar experience to you? I know it is for me. All my life, I’ve self-described as “a bad sleeper.” I struggle to fall asleep, stay asleep, and wake up feeling energized. After years of trying different techniques with minimal success, I was introduced to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for Insomnia (CBT-I).
Some of the most common first-session questions I hear in couple therapy are, “How long is this going to take?” and “How can we make the most of our time together?” In typical therapist fashion, my answer is usually a variation of “It depends” and to answer the questions with more questions, but I do share my observations from past experiences.
For years, I was embarrassed about this love for Taylor Swift. I downplayed how much energy, effort, and time I have dedicated to a person who has no idea I exist. On the other hand, this relationship (albeit one-sided) started when I was 12 and has remained strong for 15 years. Listening to her music has brought me an immense amount of joy, support, and connection. I’ve often wondered where the border of healthy vs. unhealthy is, leading me to discover the term “Parasocial Relationship.” A parasocial relationship “involves an enduring, one-sided connection between a viewer and a public figure.”
If I asked you to name a vulnerable emotion, joy doesn’t present as the obvious answer. Instead, we tend to think about shame, loneliness, anger, anxiety, and other more traditionally “negative” emotions. So how is joy potentially the most vulnerable emotion we experience? Brene Brown answers this question in her research about foreboding joy, which she defines as: “the experience of joy immediately followed by worry or dread.”
So many of us have experienced this confusing phenomenon of mixed emotions without an understanding as to what or why this is happening internally. The feeling is so widespread that many idioms have attempted to illustrate this particular experience: have you ever thought, “This is too good to be true” or experienced the feeling of “waiting for the other shoe to drop?” I know I have experienced this long before I had a name for it. I remember one particular instance where I was looking over at my partner with love and awe, only to have the feeling transform into fears about the end of the relationship and how devastated I would feel. I also remember the intense negative self-judgment I experienced, becoming frustrated that I couldn’t enjoy a good thing and had to ruin it with these intrusive thoughts. Learning about foreboding joy has been illuminating and validating when thinking back on these memories.
I hear this same self-talk in therapy sessions every day. I have clients who describe not wanting to get too excited about a new relationship, not wanting to settle into a sense of calm at a new job, and generally not wanting to let their guard down in case the positive experience doesn’t last. So, why do we do this? Why does dread often follow joy?
Have you ever confided in someone about a vulnerable topic, only to be met with some variation of “Don’t be sad” or “It’ll be okay!” While well-intentioned, these responses can be more harmful than helpful.
A couple of weeks ago, I realized I was in a funk. I started sharing my experience with a friend after working up the courage to ask for support, who immediately launched into a very cheery explanation of everything that makes her feel better that ended with “You’ll feel better in no time!” After the conversation, I was left feeling withdrawn and confused. Why had this made me feel worse? The advice she gave me (journaling, positive affirmations, headspace shifting, and exercise) was exactly what I would and have recommended to clients and friends. On top of that, I know she was trying so hard to help me and I felt ungrateful. The problem was, I KNEW all of the advice she gave me already, but it’s really hard to “just shift your headspace” or “just think positively” when you’re struggling to get out of bed. Whether or not it was her intention, the subtext I heard was that the way I was feeling was a choice I was making and I should just snap out of it.
When I first heard the term “toxic positivity,” it felt like an oxymoron. How could positivity be toxic?
Before beginning the process of applying to grad school, I couldn’t have confidently told you the difference between a therapist, a counselor, a psychologist, and a social worker. The deeper I dove, the more titles were introduced: AMFT, LMFT, APCC, LPCC, LCSW, PhD, PsyD… Needless to say, I was confused. Now, after graduate school, practicums, internships, and a lot of studying in between, I can proudly say that I am a Licensed Marriage & Family Therapist (LMFT) at Root to Rise Therapy, which employs both Associate Marriage & Family Therapists (AMFTs, who are pre-licensed) and LMFTs. There are benefits to working with both, and I can wholeheartedly recommend every therapist at our practice. For more information about our amazing AMFTs you can read their bios and check out this past blog post about the benefits of working with an AMFT.
For this post, I will focus on 5 key benefits of working with an LMFT:
