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If you are reading this, chances are your heart is breaking. Loving someone struggling with addiction is a unique kind of torture. It is a relentless pendulum swing between hope and devastation, compassion and fury, desperately wanting to save them and desperately needing to save yourself. You watch the person you know—the funny, smart, kind person they truly are—slowly disappear behind the shadow of their addiction. You want to help. It’s a natural human instinct when someon

Have you ever found yourself exploding in anger over a dirty dish left in the sink? Or perhaps a coworker offered a minor critique, and you suddenly felt a wave of crushing shame or intense irritation that lasted for hours? In the aftermath, you might look back and think, “Why did I react like that? The situation didn’t warrant that level of emotion.” When our reaction to a situation is significantly bigger than what the situation calls for, it is rarely about the person stan

We engage in a scripted dance every single day. You bump into a colleague in the hallway, or you see a friend at the grocery store. "Hey, how’s it going?" "Good! You?" "Fine, thanks." And just like that, the interaction is over. But if we could see a thought bubble above that person’s head, it likely wouldn’t say "Good." It might say, I’m overwhelmed, I’m lonely, or I’m grieving. We have slipped into "robot mode." We have been conditioned to believe that "How are you?" is a s

When I used to teach kindergarten, one of my absolute favorite times of the day was singing, "We’re Going on a Bear Hunt." The children loved it. We didn't just sing the words; we lived them out. We made it a full-body, dramatic experience. We would stomp our feet for the mud, run in place for the open fields, and dramatically tiptoe when we had to be quiet. We waved our arms through the "tall, wavy grass" and shivered through the "cold river." We acted out every step of the

There is a distinct shift that happens when you decide to begin your healing journey. It feels a bit like waking up in a room you’ve lived in your whole life, only to suddenly realize the furniture is rearranging itself. At first, it’s subtle. You start noticing what makes your stomach tighten or your energy drain. You begin to identify your needs, perhaps for the first time. And inevitably, you start setting boundaries. You say "no" where you used to reflexively say "yes." Y

We have all heard it. Perhaps, in a moment of weakness, we have even said it to ourselves: "Just think positively." "You need to try harder." "Start moving and you will feel better." This narrative—that we can talk ourselves out of any emotional struggle simply by applying enough willpower—is deeply embedded in our culture. It rests on the assumption that our minds are always under our conscious control. It is true that we all face periods of sluggishness. We all have days wh

If you’ve never been to the Mall of America in Minneapolis, it’s hard to describe the sheer scale of it. It’s not just a mall; it’s a small city with its own zip code and an amusement park in the center. Back in 2009, we were in Minneapolis for a huge celebration—my husband’s doctoral graduation. We were on a high, enjoying some downtime with grandparents, and decided to tackle the MOA. It was a generic Thursday, the vibe was relaxed, and we were browsing near Barnes & Noble

If you are currently sitting in a residential treatment center, staring at the clock, counting the days until discharge, or actively plotting your premature departure, I want you to know something crucial: You are completely normal. The urge to leave rehab against medical advice (AMA) is practically a symptom of addiction itself. It is a universal experience shared by almost everyone who has attempted recovery. When you first arrived, you might have felt a desperate sense of

If you grew up as a Missionary Kid (MK) or a Third Culture Kid (TCK), you know the specific, disorienting chaos of "Furlough." It’s that strange limbo where you are technically "home" in your passport country, but you feel like a tourist who forgot to read the guidebook. You’re dragged from church to church, living out of suitcases, and sleeping in spare rooms, guest houses, and occasionally, in the same bed as relatives. The summer before my freshman year of high school, my

It is a profoundly disorienting experience. You have spent years invested in a church community. You’ve served, tithed, and built relationships. But slowly, you notice cracks in the foundation: a pattern of secrecy among leadership, a culture where "little white lies" smooth over conflict, or a distinct lack of ownership when things go wrong. It takes immense courage to voice these concerns. You don’t do it to cause trouble; you do it because you care about the health of the

We have all been there. The clock is ticking, you’re running ten minutes late for an appointment, dinner reservation, or flight, and your partner or friend is still looking for their keys. Your natural instinct is to increase the volume and intensity. "Come on, we have to go now! Hurry up!" For a neurotypical brain, this is a social cue to pick up the pace. A little shot of adrenaline helps them focus and move faster. But if you say this to someone living with Complex Post-Tr

By Lisa King, LPC There is an uncanny, almost predatory phenomenon that many survivors of Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) experience. It happens when your defenses are down, when your autoimmune markers are flaring, or when the exhaustion of simply existing feels heavy. It is in these exact moments of vulnerability that the narcissist—or the toxic individual—reappears. Whatever name we give them, these individuals have a radar for struggle. Like a shark sensi

Family folklore is a funny thing. Usually, stories get exaggerated over time. But in the case of my Great-Grandfather, Drew H. Williams, the written record is actually funnier—and wilder—than the memories we passed down. My dad recently found the actual front page of the Alabama Journal from Thursday, November 3, 1977. There, right below the headlines about gas wells and food prices, is a picture of my great-grandfather, looking stoic and tough, showing off his bandages. The

If you went to the doctor tomorrow and were told you had high blood pressure or high cholesterol, you likely wouldn’t feel a deep sense of moral failure. You wouldn’t think, “If I just tried harder, my blood pressure would go down,” or “Taking medication for my heart makes me weak.” You would likely take the medication to keep your organs functioning correctly. Yet, when it comes to the brain—the most complex, energy-consuming organ in the human body—we suddenly abandon biolo

There is a quote by Dr. Gabor Maté that often stops people in their tracks during therapy: “Trauma is not what happens to you. Trauma is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.” For years, we have collectively defined trauma by the magnitude of the event. We look for the car crash, the war zone, the assault, or the natural disaster. If we can’t find a "Big T" event in our history, we often invalidate our own pain. We tell ourselves we are just being dramat