LWLW BLOG LIFE

There’s a kind of love many of us were trained to chase—loud, urgent, intoxicating. The kind that spikes your nervous system, hijacks your focus, and convinces you that anxiety means you’ve found “the one.” And then there’s another kind of love: the kind that doesn’t require you to abandon yourself. If you’ve ever thought, I want to love fully and freely, but felt torn between longing and fear, you are not alone. Many of us want deep connection and companionship—

If you’re exhausted from being the one who anticipates needs, smooths problems, carries emotions, and solves life for other grown people—this is your invitation to stand down. Not because you don’t care. Not because you’ve stopped loving. But because somewhere along the way, “helping” became overfunctioning—and overfunctioning became the price of connection and belonging. For many of us, fixing isn’t a personality trait. It’s a survival skill we learned early: keeping the p

You can always begin again. Not because it’s January 1st, not because you finally feel motivated, and not because a new calendar page magically fixes old patterns. You can begin again because you’re still here—and because returning to yourself is always available. Many of us were trained to treat the New Year like a pressure cooker: new goals, new body, new life, perfect execution. But pressure rarely produces healing. It usually produces a shame loop: we overpromise, burn ou

A death in the family can soften us. It can bring up nostalgia, regret, tenderness, and longing. And still—grief doesn’t erase boundaries. Loss does not automatically repair what was broken, and it does not require you to reopen access to people who repeatedly ignored your “no.” Compassion is real. But compassion does not mean self-abandonment. For many of us—especially adult survivors of emotionally immature family systems, addiction patterns, or long-standing scapegoating—

It’s easy to pathologize ourselves this time of year: “Why am I so down?”“Everyone else seems happy.”“I should be over this by now.” But holidays can be anniversary dates for a lot of pain: The first holiday without someone you love. The tenth holiday that still aches. The season you finally accepted that reconciliation may never come. The year you chose distance from family for your own safety. Your body remembers what your mind tries to file away. Smells, songs, decorations

We talk a lot about grieving death, but very little about grieving the life we thought we’d have: the loving parents, the safe relationships, the reciprocated effort, the dream that never materialized. This article names those invisible losses—family betrayal, self-sacrifice, emotional lifting—and offers a trauma-informed path toward self-trust, untethering, and gratitude. It’s an invitation to stop abandoning yourself for others, and to begin honoring the life that is still

Holding “Both/And”: The Sacred and Expansive Work of Healing What if healing wasn’t about getting over it… but exploring the complexity of holding pain while seeking and curating joy? This blog post is a gentle invitation into a more expansive way of healing — one that honors grief, disappointment, and heartbreak while also nurturing creativity, beauty, and aliveness. It’s about embracing the sacred “both/and” of our human experience. You’ll meet two women — Ava and Dina —

A visual reminder of what affirmation makes possible giving voice to what trauma may have silenced. They return us to self-worth, gently...

For those who wonder if they’ve missed their turn — and are ready to trust the wisdom of their own path. “It’s your life—the path is wide...

Learn how to protect your light, create without permission or perfection, and grow on your own terms with trauma-informed healing strategies.