Making Adjustments

It’s an almost universal truth that some people are simply good at helping. They are the friends who answer the phone at 3 AM, the colleagues who spot the burnout before you do, and the professionals—the nurses, therapists, teachers, and doctors—who dedicate their lives to easing the burdens of others. They are empathetic, reliable, incredibly independent, and often the bedrock for their communities. But if you are one of these people, you may know a deeply unsettling truth:

It's a familiar scene in many homes, perhaps especially within some conservative religious circles: a child, unyielding in their desire for a particular toy, or refusing to sit still during a long sermon. The adult response, often steeped in generations of tradition, can be swift and firm: "That's selfish behavior," or "Their will needs to be broken." The underlying belief is that children are inherently rebellious, born with a "sinful nature" that manifests as self-centeredn

We've all been there. You're catching up with a friend or family member, genuinely interested in their life, and sharing a bit of your own. But then, something shifts. Every path in the conversation seems to lead back to them. You might be mid-story, or sharing a personal reflection, and suddenly, they've seamlessly transitioned it into an anecdote about their own experiences. Or perhaps they ask a question, a seemingly innocent "How have you been?" or "What's new with you?"

We've all been there: the casual greeting, the quick, automatic reply. "How are you?" "Fine, busy." "How's work?" "Same old." These exchanges are polite, but they rarely connect. They skim the surface, focusing on what we do  or what we have achieved , rather than who we are  and what genuinely lights us up. If you're tired of hearing about someone's daily grind or their parents' careers, it's time to retire the shallow questions and start asking ones that invite genuine conn

There's a persistent, harmful whisper in our society: "People who go to therapy are the ones with the problems." This outdated notion paints those seeking professional help as weak, overly emotional, or fundamentally "broken" and "needy." It implies that only the severely dysfunctional need therapy, and that the rest of us are fine—perfectly capable of handling life's complexities in isolation. But let's flip that script. What if the real "issue" isn't the person on the thera

Hand Embroidery by Lisa King, LPC Like many of you, I have always been captivated by the whimsical, yet deeply resonant, journey of Alice in Wonderland . Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece, with its shifting realities, battles for identity, and confrontations with arbitrary authority, often feels like a perfect mirror for the disorienting chaos of childhood—a chaos that is amplified when trauma is present. Alice’s fall down the rabbit hole, her constant shifts between feeling "too b

It's a common feeling, isn't it? That internal tug-of-war where you're trying to make space for your own life, your own needs, and your own identity, only to find that someone else's presence or demands are taking up all the room. We all crave connection, but true connection requires mutual consideration—a genuine understanding that others have their own "stuff" they need to carry, too. The Burden of Emotional Immaturity The struggle often stems from a place of emotional imma

”Re-enacting” my motorcycle accident The year was 1989 , and I was a junior at a Christian International boarding school in Taiwan . Our school sat in the country, surrounded by rice paddies, the air thick with dampness and the sound of cicadas. One night, crossing the dark street in front of the school with a friend, my world went from ordinary to chaotic in an instant. One moment I was walking; the next, I was opening my eyes after blacking out on the rough pavement on the

Dear Them, I’m writing this from the vantage point of someone who spent years standing firmly in the “Us”  camp. Growing up, it wasn't always a conscious choice; it was the atmosphere. It was the unspoken covenant of being a missionary kid , a pastor’s kid , attending the sheltered halls of a Christian international school in Taiwan . In that world, Us  meant having the answers. We were the ones with the Bible  curriculum, the spiritual structure, the defined right and wrong.

We all carry "baggage"—stress, unresolved conflicts, or pent-up emotions—that, left unchecked, create a psychological mess. The need to cleanse ourselves, to purge what is toxic, is a fundamental human drive. But what happens when you desperately need that emotional release, yet all your avenues for processing feel contaminated, inadequate, or compromised? It's a chilling modern dilemma: the urgent need for a clean slate, and the utter frustration of finding no clean tools fo

For the better part of my adult life, if you mentioned football , I’d probably recoil. Not an exaggeration—hate doesn't quite capture the visceral dismissal I had for the sport. The roar of the crowd, the constant chatter, the sheer gridiron intensity—it was background noise to be actively tuned out. The only reason I’d tolerate a game being on was for the sacred trinity of the Super Bowl: the halftime show , the commercials , and, most importantly, the food . That was until

When we speak of trauma healing , the focus is often rightly placed on the pain we have received. Whether it’s the sharp, defining moment of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), the pervasive scar tissue of Complex PTSD (CPTSD), or the slow, cumulative impact of general trauma, the journey inward to reclaim ourselves is paramount. Yet, there is a vital, often overlooked, chapter in this healing narrative: taking responsibility for the wounds we have unintentionally inflicte

The year was 1995. Christmas in Taiwan had just passed, leaving behind a glow of festive memories and, for me, a sparkling new engagement ring. My fiancé had returned to the States, back to the demands of work, while I savored a little more time with my family. Our plan was simple and sweet: he'd pick me up from the airport in Texas, a reunion eagerly anticipated. Back then, air travel held a different charm. Pre-9/11, the gates were open, and the reunion at the arrival gate

The sun warmed our backs on a beautiful Taiwanese beach, the gentle murmur of the ocean a soothing soundtrack to our vacation. My youngest son and I, ever-curious explorers, stumbled upon a sight that piqued our interest and, as it turned out, offered more than just a momentary diversion. A vendor, with a couple of tanks brimming with tiny, darting fish, invited us to experience a "fish pedicure." Skepticism quickly gave way to intrigue, and soon enough, our feet were submerg

It was five years  after my husband’s multiple myeloma diagnosis. Five years after the stem cell transplant that gave us back our life. Now, every year, we return to the oncology clinic for his re-staging, and every year, the anxiety is the same. It’s a moment of truth, the yearly reckoning. This particular day, we were in the waiting room, anxiously anticipating the bone marrow biopsy . I was trying to lose myself in a book, a shield against the tension that hummed in the ai

We often think of manipulation as a sinister, deliberate act – a master puppeteer pulling strings with malicious intent. But what if I told you that many of us, perhaps even most of us, engage in manipulation without even realizing it? We're not talking about calculated deceit, but rather a more subtle, often fear-driven dance that can unintentionally harm our relationships and our own well-being. Our deepest human desires – for connection, security, love, validation, and eve

Stop me if you’ve heard this one. You’re at a party, a work function, or maybe a friend's casual gathering. You meet someone new, you shake hands, and the inevitable question is asked: "So, what do you do?" It’s an innocent, ubiquitous question, yet it’s a tiny example of a huge cultural problem. We are human beings , but we are often forced—by society and by our own internal wiring—to live as human doings . The Cult of Accomplishment Think about how we describe ourselves. It

We all want to feel seen, valued, and accepted—it’s a fundamental human need. But what happens when that healthy desire morphs into a relentless, all-consuming need? When your self-worth hangs precariously on the comments, likes, and opinions of others, you might be caught in the approval trap , where validation has become an addiction. This isn't just about occasionally enjoying a compliment; it’s an excessive need for external affirmation  that dictates your mood, your choi

Life is a constant ebb and flow, a perpetual state of becoming. Yet, so often, we cling to what is familiar, even when it no longer serves our growth. What if we looked to the natural world for a profound lesson in release and regeneration? From the smallest creature to the tallest tree, nature offers a masterclass in shedding what no longer belongs, making space for something stronger, brighter, and more authentic. Think of the snake, gracefully slithering out of its old ski

The truth, as the saying goes, will set you free. But as many of us know, it’s often easier to build a cozy little prison out of assumptions than to step into the uncomfortable, often harsh light of clarity. In a world that frequently rewards keeping the peace, many of us grew up without a healthy model for conflict. For me, like many others, I was raised with an avoidance of confrontation, which meant I wasn't equipped for it. I had to learn the hard way—through years of per