Have you ever experienced a physical sensation in your body that defies verbal explanation? I’d invite you to recall a time when this was true for you. The reality is that long before we can cognitively process a stressful event, our nervous system has already mobilized into action, preparing us to fight, flee, freeze, or, in overwhelming situations, shut down and collapse.

Sometimes, amidst the deluge of content on social media, I discover something that speaks to me on a deeper level and gives me pause.

It’s mid-January, and perhaps there is genuine momentum around change from the new year being rung in so recently, as there can be for some. But often the desire for change heralded by the new year comes from outside influences that fuel a keenly felt pressure to suddenly bring improvement to longstanding issues in yourself and your life.

How bad do things need to be before a couple reaches out to book a session with a therapist? It can be hard to know when and how to get help. What warrants inviting a third person to support your relationship in such a formal way?

The concept of boundaries has received valid criticisms for encouraging a culture of individualism: after all, we don’t exist as islands; we do need each other. Rooting an exploration of our boundaries in the reality of our interconnectedness can bring balance.

As October winds down, there is less and less natural sunlight in the morning, and the days darken earlier. For many people, less light contributes to less energy in the body. Historically, in northern climates, late autumn and winter were seasons of slowing down and conserving energy and warmth to survive harsh winters. In our current world, we don’t slow down for any season of the year, save a few days or weeks of vacation booked when we can afford the time off.

Many people living in the Western world have been shaped by predominantly individualistic values that view a person and their problems in isolation from other factors.