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—

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

It is not uncommon for trauma survivors to feel disconnected from creativity.