A Therapists Year-End Review: A Letter from a therapist.

Looking back on this year I am still in shock that it is already coming to an end. I was joking with several clients that I feel like most of us are still processing 2020, and yet 2022 is right around the corner. It often seems that way though, at the close of a chapter with something new on the horizon, we tend to reflect on what we are leaving behind, and what we are heading toward. 

As I end this year, one word comes to mind. Grateful. I have had a full year of owning and operating my private practice. This is the first time in years that I haven’t held multiple jobs and I have trusted that God would provide. It hasn’t always been easy, and there have been a few times I was tempted to take a corporate position for the ease and stability, but I never had peace about it. So, I stayed with it, and I am beyond grateful that I did. 

This year I have walked with so many who chose bravely and courageously to share their stories with me and trust me with the most intimate parts of themselves. They share things that they have never even spoken out loud, let alone to someone else. We have walked through incredible hurt, pain, grief, disappointment, trauma, anxiety, depression, and more. There were times when I held back tears for them, and times I simply couldn’t, and we shared in our universal understanding of one another. But that is not all that I saw this year. I saw tremendous triumph! I saw clients gain insight and awareness, I saw them lean into my interventions and push themselves outside of session to achieve their goals. I saw them increase their positive coping skills and let go of their old, harmful, maladaptive ways. I saw overcomers and achievers, and best of all, I saw the light in their eyes and the spark in their hearts when they finally understood something and believed in their own self-worth! I don’t think of them just as clients, I think of them as people I care deeply about. I root for them, I pray for them, I will always be their biggest cheerleader and the one person who models what a healthy, authentic, and transparent relationship looks like.  I see amazing people, and I am so honoredand so privileged and so thankful for each and every single client I have the pleasure of working with. This year I got to work with so many incredible people, and I am looking forward to what the new year has in store for our therapy journey and for their lives. 

As therapists I don’t think we often get to express just how much our clients mean to us, but as I was reflecting on my year and how I won’t see them again until 2022, I was thinking of the best possible way for me to honor them and express my gratitude. I know there are a multitude of therapists out there, ones who, let’s be honest, are probably often more equipped, have more experience or simply have a different expertise than I do, and yet my clients chose me. That honor is not wasted on me. One of the things I always tell my clients when we first begin sessions is that therapy can be hard, and that often things will feel worse before they feel better, but I tell them that if they can just hang on for the better, I promise to work my absolute hardest to get them there. Because they matter. Because their lives matter. Because their wellness, joy, and story matters. Not just to me, but to the world. Without them, the world wouldn’t be the same. And I am so grateful that I get to be a small part of their journey. So, in case any of my wonderful clients are reading this. Thank you. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for allowing me to walk alongside you and to act as a guide in your journey. Thank you for trusting me and allowing me to hold hope for you. Thank you for investing in yourself. Thank you for taking that first courageous step and sticking with it. You are amazing. Truly. I am so glad that I am getting to know you and have walked this path with you, and I hope that one day when you are ready to walk it alone, you will never forget how fantastic you are. That when the day comes for us to say, “see you later,” you inherently know your worth, value, and have grace with yourself to continue to learn along the way. I hope that if my voice sticks with you, as some of you tell me it does, you hear me saying, “you are incredible, and I am so proud of you.” Because that is the truth. I am incredibly proud of you. 

This year has been a lot of things- it has been crazy, sad, hectic, busy, wonderful, amazing, inspiring, life-changing, and so much more. As I reflect back, I want to see all the good- that is what I want to remember going into the new year. We can’t change the past, but we can learn from it and allow it to guide us in creating a future we are excited about. We have learned a lot of lessons this year, and while some of them have been horrendous, I know that we have grown and will continue to grow through it. Because we are survivors. We are investing into ourselves so we can thrive and that is what defines us- not the fact that life has knocked us down, but the fact that we have valiantly chosen to rise! I believe in our ability to continue to rise and to truly thrive, and I am excited to see that manifest in the new year. 

Once again, thank you to all my amazing clients, you have made this year great and I am grateful for you.

At the end of each year, I like to do a personal year-end review. This helps me remain grateful for all the lessons learned, growth that has occurred, and reminds me of things I do not want to carry with me into the new year. First and foremost, if this is something you are interested in, its fairly simple. All you need is a journal, something to write with, and some time. Start by asking the following questions:

What are some wins, victories, and positive things that have happened this year?

What are some areas where I have seen substantial growth?

What are some areas that I am still actively working on?

What are some of the harder things I have walked through this year?

What are things I do not want to carry into the new year (this can be attitudes, behaviors, reactions/responses, negative coping skills, beliefs, even relationships)?

What/who am I grateful for?

What word would I like to see manifested in the new year (this can be anything like: growth, determination, intentionality, grace, hope, acceptance, etc)?

What is one step I can take this week that will help me work toward manifesting that word? 

How can I stay mindful of my goal word throughout the days, weeks, and months?

What are some good goals to set weekly/monthly/quarterly for myself?

Do I want to learn anything new this year?

Do I want to do anything new this year?

When I look back at the end of the year, what do I want to remember most?

 How can I take active steps to writing a story that I want to live and that I am excited about?

I always encourage everyone to take their time with this. Come back to it often; work a little and then let it be. This is not something you want to rush through, but rather something you want to be intentional about and really give thought and effort to. This is also a great thing to do in session if you are currently seeing a therapist. Either way, remember that there are no right answers, and at the end of the day, this is simply a guidepost to helping you start the year as a fresh book- writing the story you want, and not just accepting roles that have been handed to you, or that you’ve always played. You get to be the author this year, and you get to decide what your story is about. These questions are a great place to start that story. 

Surviving and Thriving the Holiday Hustle and Bustle

What if the hustle and bustle doesn’t come with guaranteed holiday cheer? What if you are struggling with feeling constantly on edge, guilty for not doing or being enough, and struggling to fit it all in? What does it look like to question the notion of the “do-all and be-all,” instead of questioning our own worth?

I don’t know about you, but, so often I lay in bed at night, and I recount the day. I think about all the things I did wrong, all the ways I failed, all the things I should have done or could have done. I struggle to fall asleep because my mind always wants to remind me of my shortcomings. Anxiety does this to us, the difference is now I recognize those intrusive thoughts and the buzzing feel as an intruder, not as me. So how do I combat that? Sometimes easily- sometimes I can tell myself that I did my best and remind myself of all the victories that day. Sometimes I can look back and realize that my kids enjoyed the moments, or that I am projecting my own insecurities onto them, but they don’t actually feel that way. Sometimes I see all the effort made and recognize that is what matters. Other times I fall into the guilt and shame trap. Then I vow to do better and find myself being performance based until I can’t keep running at the pace, I have set for myself. Looking back, I always manage to see that it was my anxiety spurring me on, but there is no point in lying and telling you that I always recognize it in the moment. Even when you’ve done all the hard work, and even when you continue doing the hard work, there are still times where you will fall or struggle. The truth is its part of the human condition. We all go through things; the goal is to turn that going into growing. To stop beating ourselves up so much and instead to recognize all the good we have done and continue to do. I don’t mean that we should have an inflated sense of self, just an accurate depiction of who we truly are. 

You are so many things- wonderful, amazing, talented, smart, kind, loving, capable. You are uniquely you, and even when you fail, you will be the only you there ever is. Sometimes being ourselves will be enough for others, sometimes it won’t ever be enough- we need to learn to distinguish between healthy and toxic relationships, and how to stop allowing others or our own destructive thoughts to tear us down. It is okay for us to not do it all, or to not be it all- I think we all need to read that multiple times. In fact, it’s not healthy to think that you can do it all or be it all for anyone or everyone, and yet that is what we so often do. Especially this time of the year. When the expectations are even higher than normal and we want to fit in as much as we possibly can, and we are stressed to the max and barely managing to keep it all together, but “sure I can do that for you… yes, we would love to come…. How can I help?” It is okay for you to say no. Let me say that again, it is okay for you to say no. It is okay for you to say yes- yes to rest, yes to self-care, yes to something that brings you joy, yes to help. What if instead of trying to cram everything into every day we simply enjoyed the moments the day brings? What if we focus on the things that truly matter to us? 

I don’t know at what point we decided that we needed to live these hectic lives but just for today, I just want you to stop.

I want you to close your eyes, take a deep breath, feel the air go into your lungs and then exhale all that worry, stress, fear, and perceived failure. 

I want you to remind yourself that you are enough, you have done enough, and you can’t ever do more when you are busy beating yourself up. 

What if you let go of all those unrealistic expectations you have of yourself, or the ones that were placed onto you? What if you decided to take each day as a new opportunity to love yourself well, and to love others? What if you chose today to stop living in the shadow of expectations and not be weighed down by all the hustle and bustle? There is no perfect way to do life, but there are infinite right ways, and leaning into who you are and accepting that we all have limitations is part of living a fulfilled and healthy life. You don’t have to do it all or be it all- you never did, and once we embrace that, we can lean into doing what we can and being who we were always meant to be. 

The hustle and bustle doesn’t come with guaranteed holiday cheer, in fact it usually comes with headaches, heartaches and stress. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can change it, and it only takes recognition and desire. Today, focus on what truly matters to you and let go of anything and everything else. Choose to stop, breathe, reflect and move forward confidently knowing that you are enough and being enough has never been measured by doing enough. 

Some practical self-care tools:

Practice deep breathing (in through your nose for 5, hold for 6, exhale from your mouth for 7)

Do something that brings you joy

Spend time in nature

Connect with people that bring you joy

Utilize your senses: light a candle, try a new food or a food you love, take a warm bath or shower, look at lights, cozy up with a warm soft blanket.

My Story of Pain and Purpose

I am complex.

We all are. We are all so much more than what others see. We are more than what others believe us to be. We are more than unmet expectations, boxes that have been constructed for us to fit into, and the disappointments others express in us.

We are also so much more than the good days. The perfect Instagram worthy posts. The pinterest projects and endless to-do lists that finally got done. We are more than sunshine and rainbows and the smiles plastered to our faces.

We are more than the fake and phony. We are more than the pretending and “I’m fine.” We are more than our illness and wellness. We are complex.

When I set out on this journey to share my story, I really did not think of the extent of what my story was. You see, I had been taught (somewhere along the way), that my story and my voice did not matter. It was not as important as someone else’s. The pain not as great as another’s. The trauma not as significant and therefore devalued; it means nothing if someone has it worse. But I want to change that narrative. I believe fully and wholly that transparency and vulnerability create meaningful connection. When we realize that we are not alone in our journeys, that people genuinely care and understand, we are able to move forward with hope.

I hope that in my sharing, you will find your light. You will believe that wellness is possible. Healing is possible. You are worth investing in and that people do genuinely care.

I was just a little girl, 4 years old when my Opi (German grandpa) passed away. I can still remember playing happy birthday for him on my portable keyboard. He was in his bed a lot at this time, but that didn’t matter, I loved him, and he loved me, and I just enjoyed his company. One day my parents sent me to stay with my cousin. I recall vividly them hurrying me into the car to get back to my house. I plead for them to tell me what was going on, but no one would. When we got back everyone was crying, and my Opi was gone. No one would tell me what was going on, but his bed was empty. That was when I first drew the conclusion that when I leave bad things happen. This thought process planted its faulty seed into my mind and sprouted years of agony and trying to be there for everyone and everything. But bad stuff inevitably happens. Shortly thereafter my parents decided to move to the United States. I was 6. I left behind my friends, family, pets, home, and belongings. I got on a plane and moved to California, we lived with my “American” grandparents. I did not speak or understand English, I was put into an ESL class (where everyone, including the teacher spoke Spanish), I had no friends, and I was the weird foreign kid. An immigrant. Throughout school I endured pretty severe bullying, from kids and teachers alike. I was locked into dark bathrooms, death threats were issued to me and my family if I ever told anyone, I was called a Nazi often. So, I became a chameleon. I learned how to fit and adapt. How to be liked and how to keep others happy. Once I had “friends” the bullying did not matter as much anymore. Some kids thought it was cool that I spoke a different language and that I was “different.” What I really wanted them to believe is that I was the same.

At home things were not much better. My parents worked a lot, they had to, and I respect how far they have come and the lives they have made for themselves. I endured a lot of verbal abuse from a relative. I was told I did not matter. That I would never have friends. I was too ugly. I was not worth life. I was told, as a young girl, that no one would ever want me. This person would purposely make fun of me when my friends were around, call me degrading names, tell me I should run away or die. What was meant to break me, only made me stronger. I realized this person was afraid of me. Afraid of my courage and strength, of my intelligence and resiliency. This person wanted to bring me down because they were unhappy; they projected themselves onto me. I watched as they continued to try to berate and belittle me, and I chose not to break. I chose not to let them see me cry. To say it didn’t hurt would be a lie, but when you are exposed to pain repeatedly, eventually you go numb. The numbness worked to my advantage though, it allowed me to live my life as the positive person that I knew I was. I have always loved people; loved helping and being there for others. No one was going to change that about me. I grew up around substance use and abuse as well, I learned that a lot of people self-medicate at an early age. I was a latch-key kid and always tried my hardest to help my parents in any way I could.

When I was younger, I didn’t know that I had anxiety. I would feel sick every day (somatic symptoms) and go to the nurse. I had trouble sleeping even when I was little and would experience night terrors and nightmares basically every night. I learned how to stay up all night reading with a flashlight because it was better than the night terrors. My intrusive thoughts sometimes got the best of me and they manifested in OCD tendencies and perfectionism. I pushed myself hard and was always in competition with someone (self-imposed) to keep myself at my best. I worried about literally everything. I worried about worry.

At the age of 11 another life-altering event happened. My Omi (German grandma) was visiting and staying with us. My brother was 2 at the time and napping in his room and I was helping my Omi with laundry while watching a show. She said she wasn’t feeling well, but didn’t want my mom to worry, said she would be fine. My mom left and went to work. My Omi went in her room to put away her clothes. When the show ended, I realized she still wasn’t back, and I went to check on her. That’s when I found her. She was on her floor in her bedroom. I panicked. I called my other grandma hysterically; I ran to my neighbors who called 911. But it was already too late. The fire department and ambulance seemed to take forever to get there, they wouldn’t let me go inside. My neighbor waited with me outside of my house. That day changed a lot for me. I lost a lot. And I realized that I would never be enough. When my Opi died, I drew the conclusion that bad things happened when I wasn’t there, so I was always there for people. But my Omi still died. I didn’t pay enough attention, I wasn’t fast enough, I didn’t respond well. The inner critic was right, that relative was right. I would never be good enough.

That didn’t stop me from trying harder though. I was in all honors classes. I took 7 periods most of my high school years. I was involved in extra-curricular activities and volunteered. If anyone needed anything, I was there. I was a people-pleaser. Very good givers attract the best takers, and I was okay with that. At least they thought I had something to give.  

High school was also the time I developed my truly unhealthy relationship with food. Growing up I was placed on a lot of diets. I think it was common then for moms to always be dieting because I remember all my friend’s moms always being on some sort of new diet-fad as well. But I decided that I could just not eat. So, I didn’t. For a long time. I lived on water and gum. Everyone thought I looked great; they complimented how disciplined I was (although they had no idea, I was not eating at all). I started to not feel my best, I was tired and light-headed a lot, I would get dizzy spells and just drink more water. My mom was doing my hair for a baby shower when I passed out and smashed head-first into the bathroom mirror. Thankfully, I wasn’t hurt. My parents had no idea what was going on. My dad got really upset and learning to eat again wasn’t easy. Yet again, I wasn’t enough. What I learned through this though was that, while I can’t control others and what happens, I can control what and how much I eat. I needed control of something, so this became my thing.

After high school I worked full-time, went to school full-time and tutored on the side. I always kept myself extremely busy; when I am busy, I don’t have time to think. I had learned how to “manage” my anxiety (which I still didn’t know I had) by distracting myself. Sure, there were days I wish that everything would just go away, or that life would end, but distraction was a good tool to keep my mind occupied.

Around this time someone very close to me tried to commit suicide as well. To say this was a shock is an understatement. Looking back, I see how alone this person felt and how the idea of not needing to be “in it all” anymore was appealing. I am so glad God had different plans though!

  In my early 20’s I met my husband and we had our son. We were relatively young parents and we didn’t have a lot, but we tried our best to do our best. My husband and I had to learn (over the years) how to break habits we didn’t even know we had. We had to learn how to communicate effectively and not recreate our families of origin. We struggled a lot, for quite some time. But we never gave up. When my son was 4, he and I were driving home and were hit by an intoxicated driver that was high and drunk. We had minimal physical wounds (praise God) but we both suffered extremely mentally and emotionally. My son ended up with a PTSD diagnosis, and this was what spiraled my anxiety. The accident allowed me to go back to school though and obtain my masters, and during that program I had my first public panic attack. It took therapy, medication, and a medical diagnosis to finally find reprieve. I had to battle a lot of negative thoughts, core beliefs and faulty thinking; I had to replace my distortions with healthy coping mechanisms and begin to see that not everything is my job. Therapy pushed me, a lot. Therapy taught me, a lot. Therapy helped save me.

I still struggle sometimes; I think we always will to some extent. This world is fallen and broken, and we desire perfection in an imperfect place. But now I have the tools to help me. I learned how to set healthy boundaries and let go of toxic people and relationships, or to minimize my exposure to ones I can’t end. I learned how to shift my focus and keep my eyes on Jesus; how to have grace, not only with others, but with myself. I learned how to advocate for myself and my needs, whether medically or relationally. I know now that when others project onto me, I do not have to accept it, and I can still pray for them and love them. I learned that my anxiety and panic lives with me. My body is its house and sometimes I forget it lives there, but other times I still struggle with sharing space. I learned that wellness is complex too, but it is SO worth investing in and fighting for. I learned that I can’t be enough, but I don’t have to be enough. I give myself permission to be fully me, and I will always do my best to love big and be there for others because that is who I am to my core, but I will no longer be a people-pleaser or welcome mat. I learned that we all have beliefs and ideas, we all have opinions and its okay to be different (even when others don’t want you to be). I learned that this world is perfectly imperfect and that I can lean into that because, so am I. I will never fit into someone else’s box, I will never be someone else’s ideal, I will never be anything but who I am. I can learn. I can grow. I can become a better version of myself, but I will never be perfect, and I have learned to be okay with that. Progress is greater than perfection.

This is a very condensed version of my story. There are specific details I left out and diagnoses that are not mine to share. I have walked through a lot in my life, and yet I know others have walked through more. The things I chose to leave out I did because I do not want to hurt others in sharing my story. I know we all have a version that is true to us. This is my story. It includes pain and illness, but more than that it includes hope and wellness. I may not have always known what I was up against, but if my story shows you anything, I hope it shows you how strong we are. How we learn to cope and adapt. How we can still unlearn negative behaviors and learn positive ones. I hope that my story shows you that we are all connected to each other. Pain and suffering are not discriminatory, they will choose anyone, at any time. But when I reflect back on all of this what I see most prevalent, is the purpose to my pain. My pain catapulted me into my purpose. It showed me that regardless of what we face in life we have choices. It showed me my own strength and ability to rise. It showed me that love always wins and that I have a heart that desires to make a difference.

My story matters.

YOUR story matters.

One day, when you are ready, you can tell your story too. I hope in doing so you can reflect on your story and see your strength and determination. Your heart and soul. That you can see you were worth investing in and fighting for all along. Our stories matter. Our voices matter. Your life matters, and you are never alone.