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Follow The Sun Psychology, 187 James Street, New Farm (2026)

05/05/2026

Just after Christmas, I found myself walking this stretch of beach in full goblin energy—absolutely steaming 😡… which is exactly when you realise it would’ve been helpful to have Atsie the Elf on standby for some festive emotional regulation. And look, even the most grounded of therapists can be… ahem… momentarily be unreceptive to inner peace. 🤣

So I did what I always end up doing…I walked it out, straight to the ocean.

And here’s the thing I keep coming back to: it’s not just that the beach is “nice.” There’s actual science behind why this works.

Because as I stomped along the shoreline, the ocean didn’t argue back. The horizon didn’t escalate things. The waves just kept doing their thing: steady, rhythmic, completely unbothered. And somewhere in that, my nervous system got the memo: we’re safe here. Heart rate softens, breath deepens, the internal temperature drops a few degrees.

There’s also this quiet mental shift. Nature holds your attention, but gently. The colour of the sky, the pull of the tide, the patterns in the sand. No effort required. It’s like my brain finally unclenches after gripping too hard all day.

And maybe this is the deeper layer… we’re wired for this. Open water, soft edges, natural rhythms; these are the landscapes humans evolved in. My body recognises it before my mind catches up.

By the end of the walk, nothing externally had changed. Same situation. Same people. Same post-Christmas chaos.

But internally? Different story.

Less goblin. More human.

So yeah, when you find yourself barefoot at sunset, salty air on your skin (and perhaps even more on your tongue), watching the tide roll in and out… it’s not just a pretty moment for the camera roll.

It’s your nervous system settling, your mind getting a reset, and your whole being remembering: life moves in tides, not straight lines. And if all else fails… prescribe yourself one beach walk, repeat as needed (no referral required). 🌅

01/05/2026

Windy. Drizzly. Slightly offended-looking sky. 🌧️💨

After what felt like Brisbane stubbornly refusing to change seasons:
“Hello autumn?? You coming or…?”…
it finally arrived.

Not gently.
Not subtly.
But with a full broody burst.

Grey skies. Drizzle. Wind.
Temperatures dipping below 25 degrees Celsius like it’s some kind of personality shift. And the humidity finally backing off…
I can put my makeup on without having to blow dry my face.
We love growth 😂

We’re subtropical people… sudden changes like this are confronting 😂

We love fair weather.
But there’s also something about the changing seasons;
the quiet nudge that things are shifting… including us.

And I noticed it all out at my estuary.

Nature doing that thing where it’s like:
“Nothing to see here…”
…but also…
“Please notice me.”

Because somehow, in all that moodiness,
there were these perfectly lined-up little clouds just casually showing off.
Main character energy ☁️✨

And then… the sandbanks.

Appearing right when I needed them.
Like: “Hey… maybe stop wading for a second?”

Because sometimes the wind picks up, the water gets choppy,
and suddenly you’re not exactly where you thought you’d be.

Life, but make it estuary.

Sometimes we need the blustery stuff
to shake us out of autopilot, to push us somewhere new.

But also… it can be a lot.

And when you’re not used to fast-moving tides,
sometimes the most regulated thing you can do is find a sandbank,
stand still,
dry your metaphorical wings,
and reassess.

Do I go deeper?
Do I let the current take me for a bit?
Do I stay here a little longer?
Or head home?

(No rush. Autumn’s just getting started.)

Quick science drop:
🌧️ time in nature (even “meh” weather) lowers stress + cortisol
🌧️ supports nervous system regulation
🌧️ boosts mood + clarity
🌧️ and makes you feel strangely… alive

So yes, this moody weather?
Not exactly postcard-worthy…
but maybe exactly what we needed.

And if in doubt…
follow the pelicans. Whether they’re effortlessly surfing the wind, dramatically swallowing a fish whole, or just bobbing about like floaty philosophers.

They’ve always got a plan 😂

01/05/2026

Confession: your local walk-and-talk therapist… hugged a tree today 🌳😂

Yes. Actually hugged it. Two hands. Full commitment. Mild public embarrassment.

In my defence, I’d just finished a session, my next client cancelled (cue internal “ugh”), and instead of heading back to emails and missed calls, I kept walking. As always, nature did its thing… slowed me down, pulled me in.

Some days it’s the water.
Some days it’s birds.
Today… it was this absolute unit of a gum tree stretching into the heavens like it had somewhere important to be.

And look, I know how this sounds.
“Feeling the energy of the tree” 🌿✨
Who have I become? 🤣

But standing there like a complete weirdo with my hands on this big, glorious, slightly lumpy, imperfect gum… I felt calm.

Nobbly bits. Dry bark. Smooth patches. Half-dead branches. Uneven, weathered, a bit rough around the edges.

Honestly… relatable.

And maybe that’s the point.
These quiet giants just exist! Rooted, steady, not trying to be anything other than what they are.

Also… have you ever thought about the absolute chaos trees have silently witnessed over time??
If trees could talk, we’d all need therapy 😂

And yes, there’s actual science behind why this works:

🌿 time in nature reduces stress, anxiety, and rumination
🌿 lowers cortisol, heart rate, and blood pressure
🌿 supports immune function
🌿 activates the “rest and restore” nervous system
🌿 and even makes us a bit kinder (we love that for us)

So these days I make a point of noticing trees! Whether it’s a glance at the jacarandas out the office window or a full-blown moment with a “storybook tree” that looks like it wandered out of a fairytale.

Sometimes it’s just a look.
Sometimes it’s a quiet “thanks.”
And occasionally… it’s a full public display of tree affection.

If you see me out there hugging trees, just keep walking.
Or… join me 🌳😉 Have you ever had a moment like this in nature—or am I officially alone in my tree era? 🌳😂

16/04/2026

There’s a place I keep returning to, an estuary where river meets sea.
At low tide, the sand reveals everything. Tiny patterns, soldier crabs, quiet movement. At high tide, the mangroves hold steady in shifting water. Reflections blur the line between what’s real and what’s mirrored.
I’ve realised this place regulates me.
Not because it’s perfectly calm, but because it’s not. It’s changing, rhythmic, in-between. And something in me settles there.
As a therapist (and a human who feels deeply), I often think about this: What we’re drawn to isn’t random.
Sometimes it tells us exactly what our nervous system needs.
Not everything has to be mystical to be meaningful.
Maybe for you it’s the ocean. Or a tree-lined street. Or the way light hits your kitchen in the morning.
If you’re feeling stretched or unsettled, you might try this: Pause and notice—where do I feel even 5% more like myself?
And if you can, go there. Or recreate a small version of it.
When you’re in that space, gently ask yourself: • Do I feel more quiet, more clear, or more expanded here? • Am I drawn to the small details, or the bigger picture? • Is it the stillness that soothes me, or the movement?
There’s no right answer. Just information.
Sometimes caring for ourselves starts with paying attention to what we’re already being pulled toward.
Curiosity is powerful. It doesn’t take much time, and it costs nothing, but it can have a profound impact on how we understand and care for ourselves.

09/02/2026

Last year, in peak silly-season chaos, I went for a mindful walk at Nudgee Beach… partly for spiritual nourishment, partly because my nervous system was hanging on by a thread and my to-do list was judging me.
That’s when I met Legacy.
Standing in the tidal pools. Perfect reflection. Zero interest in my existential crisis.
Timing was awkwardly perfect because I’d been deep in a therapist-style spiral about legacy.
You know…
“What will I leave behind?”
“Did I reach my potential?”
“Have I made meaningful contributions to humanity… or just strong tea and well-timed sarcasm?”
Nature has a funny way of interrupting our overthinking. Many nature-based and shamanic wellness traditions talk about the idea that the natural world mirrors truth back to us — usually without PowerPoint, productivity metrics, or performance reviews.
Legacy is an Arabian endurance horse, bred from desert survival lines and named because he was the final offspring of his sire. I have absolutely no idea whether he’s won races, broken records, or just enjoys being majestic and emotionally regulated on beaches.
What I do know is that seeing him stopped me in my tracks.
Awe. Wonder. Stillness.
The full nervous system reboot.
And it struck me… he will never know he did that.
Maybe legacy isn’t something we get to measure or curate. Maybe it lives in moments we accidentally create.
The flower that blooms for a week.
The butterfly doing its chaotic little sky dance.
The stranger who smiles at exactly the moment your brain is writing dramatic internal monologues.
Striving is beautiful. Progress matters. Humans do amazing things when we aim high.
But the natural world keeps reminding us that showing up — present, connected, imperfect, curious — might be its own kind of sacred work.
Legacy didn’t try to change the world that day.
He just stood there being fully, unapologetically horse.
And honestly… there’s a lesson in that for all of us.
You matter. Probably in ways you’ll never fully see. 🌞

24/12/2025

🎄🧝‍♀️ Day 1 — Stocking Mode Activated
Day 1 finds Atsie the Elf tucked up in her Christmas stocking…aka the eye of the Christmas storm.
She’s wrapped the pressies, counted her blessings, and is ready for an evening of carols by candlelight, kids on their best behaviour (…for now), and that final magical exhale before Santa descends.
And to you, dear co-adventurer, thank you warmly for riding shotgun in this Advent saga. May your Chrissy be overflowing with joy, peace, and minimal emergency emotional plumbing. Wishing much psychological and physical wellbeing for you and your loved ones this festive season.
Now for your Christmas operating system options:
🧌🔥 Goblin Energy
Goblin Christmas starts with “We’re keeping it chill this year,” which in family code means: brace for impact.
Within 60 minutes the goblin will:
• ask a question that sounds like a compliment but lands like a subpoena
• say “I’m fine” in a tone that could strip paint
• offer parenting advice last updated during dial-up internet
• bring a vibe so chaotic it qualifies as weather
And this is the true Christmas sabotage:
You accidentally feed the goblin after midnight (emotionally or literally).
Suddenly the goblin energy erupts like:
backyard cricket but everyone’s the ball and nobody’s padded up.
It ruins Christmas by:
• reviving a 12-year-old argument like it’s been cryogenically preserved
• turning table conversation into a competitive sport
• weaponising nostalgia
• and converting peace into an extreme team-building exercise nobody consented to
By dessert:
Someone’s staged a walkout, one sibling’s rage-stacking the dishwasher, and a child has defected to the dog because the dog is the only regulated adult in the home.
🧝‍♀️✨ Functional Elf Energy (Calm Firmware Update)
Stop. Breathe. Feet on the floor. Soul back in body.
Install circuit breakers. Pressure valves. Micro-escapes.
Choose kindness without choosing the courtroom drama.
Christmas success is:
Everyone fed, mostly regulated, nobody needing mediation before pudding.
Wishing you a merry one…imperfect, human, survivable.
Love,
Atsie (still inside a sock)

23/12/2025

🎄🏏 Two Sleeps to Go: Atsie vs Backyard Cricket & Family Systems 🧝‍♀️
Two days to Christmas and Atsie the Elf is trying to protect her vital organs, fielding at Silly Mid On while narrowly avoiding one of her brother-in-law’s “medium pacers”…which, mysteriously, have a lot more zip this year.
Atsie did briefly receive a premonition that this game could descend into anarchy, particularly given last Christmas’ incident involving her B.I.L, the back door, and the “Door Kick“ TikTok challenge (see Day 7).
In two days’ time, families across the world will gather for Christmas. Some may already be recovering from early catch-ups like Atsie. Family Christmas usually begins with the best intentions. One minute everyone’s politely sipping a drink.
The next, a long-buried family dynamic erupts out of the ground with force, toxic sludge everywhere, no one equipped to clean it up, and at least one person staring into their plate wondering how we got here before dessert.
It usually starts innocently:
“So… are you still doing it that way?”
About the ham. The kids. Your life choices.
And suddenly…boom 🧨. Same cast. Same script. New year’s production.
So… choose your adventure 👀👇
😈👹Goblin Option: Arrive determined to “just keep the peace.”
Smile through clenched teeth.
Say nothing until you say everything.
Mix alcohol with emotional repression.
Attempt honesty over roast potatoes.
By dessert: someone’s crying in the laundry, someone’s rage-washing dishes, someone’s Googling flights home.
Goblin logic: Christmas will heal us.
✨🧝‍♀️ Functional Elf Energy
Adjust expectations: this context activates old roles. It’s not personal failure.
Notice your role (peacekeeper, scapegoat, responsible one) without fully stepping into it.
Decide in advance what you won’t engage with.
Regulate first, respond second.
Contain rather than fix! Christmas is not therapy.
Accept that some people won’t change (and you can still heal).
Use strategic distance, not dramatic exits.
Debrief with safe people. Plan recovery.
Functional Elf mantra: “I can stay kind without staying engaged.”
If family dynamics bubble up, it’s not because you’ve failed! It’s because Christmas can press ALL the buttons!

22/12/2025

✈️🎄 Day 3: Passports Found. Patience? We’ll See. 🧝‍♀️
Day 3 finds Atsie the Elf riding a brief but euphoric high after locating all family passports and confirming, praise be, they’re still valid!
And just like that, the festive travel reality sets in. This year involves planes, family, in-laws, shared bathrooms, disrupted routines and the annual Christmas tradition of putting tired nervous systems in very close proximity.
Atsie is feeling it all:
Excitement ✨ + dread 😬
Gratitude + irritation
Adventure + “why did we schedule this in December?”
Because travelling at Christmas, whether interstate or overseas, is not just a trip. It’s a logistical and emotional obstacle course.
Cramped spaces.
Shorter fuses.
Jet lag or road fatigue.
Kids off routine.
Parents off regulation.
Being in someone else’s space while trying to parent and be polite and not lose your mind.
So… choose your own adventure 👀👇
😈👹 Goblin Option
Expecting it to feel like a relaxing holiday.
Overpacking the itinerary to justify the effort and expense.
Trying to perform Christmas magic, perfect parenting and agreeable in-law energy simultaneously.
Taking public meltdowns personally.
Interpreting irritation as personal failure.
Goblin logic: If I were coping better, this wouldn’t feel so hard.
✨🧝‍♀️ Functional Elf Energy
Calling it what it is: high load, low margin for error.
Redefining success: fed, mostly safe, some moments of connection.
Lowering expectations before they lower you.
Packing familiarity (snacks, comfort items, routines) over perfection.
Expecting emotional spillover: yours and theirs.
Aligning with your partner and backing each other publicly.
Using micro-escapes: walks, early nights, “quick errands” that are actually sanity breaks.
Functional Elf wisdom: Regulation beats itinerary every time.
Kids won’t remember the delays, the wrong restaurant or the awkward family moments.
They remember being soothed, feeling safe, and knowing their parents had each other’s backs ❤️
If Christmas travel feels hard, it’s not because you’re ungrateful.
It’s because you’re navigating crowds, expectations, fatigue and relationships all at once…in peak season.
Buckle up Atsie! Deep breaths! 🧘

22/12/2025

🎄🤹‍♀️ Day 4: Atsie, the Dropped Balls & the Swiss Cloister Fantasy 🏔️
Day 4 of Atsie’s Advent Calendar finds Atsie the Elf pinned under all the balls she’s been juggling this year, especially as a busy working parent.
Raising little elves is the most rewarding job on earth… and also bloody hard. And every now and then, even the most capable elf drops a ball (or six) and briefly fantasises about a cloistered life in Switzerland where the hills are alive with the sound of music and no one needs lunchboxes.
Okay Atsie. Come back to reality, girl.
Because this time of year? It doesn’t create burnout…it reveals it.
The mental load. The emotional labour. School admin. Transport. Paid work. Household management. Extended family. And usually… your own needs sitting quietly on the floor, waiting their turn.
So… choose your own adventure 👀👇
😈👹 Goblin Energy
Trying to do everything perfectly.
Chasing an Instagram-worthy Christmas.
Carrying an invisible to-do list that never ends.
Absorbing everyone’s feelings.
Saying yes when you mean no.
Running on fumes, numbing with wine, snacks or scrolling.
Judging yourself for feeling flat, irritable or resentful.
Goblin logic: If I just try harder, I’ll cope better.
✨🧝‍♀️ Functional Elf Energy
Naming what this actually is: cumulative load + high expectations + no recovery.
Lowering the bar to good enough.
Shifting from “making magic” to maintaining regulation.
Deciding which balls must stay in the air…and which can drop.
Letting others feel disappointed without fixing it.
Using micro-regulation instead of unrealistic self-care.
Setting kind, early boundaries.
Remembering kids don’t need perfection! They need presence.
Functional Elf wisdom: You’re not failing. You’re tired.
If Christmas feels hard this year, it doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful or doing it wrong.
It means you’ve been carrying a lot… for a long time… often without enough support.
Tonight’s gentle check-in:
“What’s one thing I can do today to make this day easier! Not better, just easier?”
That counts. And so do you. 🎄✨

20/12/2025

🎄🦌 Day 5: Reindeer Regret, Heatwave Realities & Festive Fit Checks ☀️
Day 5 sees Atsie the Elf doing a Christmas Week wardrobe audit. Her fun reindeer costume is currently hitched somewhere around her waist as she reflects on last year’s bold (questionable) choice: a head-to-toe reindeer suit at the office Christmas party… in 30-plus degrees with stifling humidity.
Yes, she got maximum laughs.
Less fun was her boss repeatedly materialising with ice cubes, a worried expression, and a strong sense of duty of care to cool Atsie’s core temperature back to something more elf-like and less goblin in Satan’s lair.
This year? Growth. Possibly.
Still festive… but more functional.
Santa-on-a-surfboard boardies? 🎅🏄
Short-sleeved Secret Santa tee?
Do Santa hats come with a broad brim?🤔
Balancing fun and functional — did ‘No Bad Parts‘ cover that, or is that in Chapter 12 she skipped? (Might need to revisit that elf-help book.)
Choose your adventure 👇

😈👹 The Goblin Option
Ignoring the Australian summer entirely.
Heavy, synthetic costumes trapping heat.
No hat. No sunscreen. No water.
Overheating, heat stress, dizziness, headaches, dehydration and peak irritability.
Sunburn as a festive souvenir.
Goblin logic: Suffer for the bit.

✨🧝‍♀️ Functional Elf Energy
Dressing for the climate and the vibe.
Light, loose, breathable fabrics (cotton, linen, bamboo).
Light colours. Sensible footwear.
Hats, sunnies and SPF 30+ on repeat.
Sipping water all day (balancing booze and caffeine).
Seeking shade or air-con, especially between 11–4.
Functional Elf wisdom: You can be festive without becoming a heat-related medical presentation.

Christmas in Australia is summer.
Fun doesn’t have to mean fainting.
Dress smart. Hydrate generously.
Festive, functional, still fabulous. 🎅☀️

Follow The Sun Psychology

05/05/2026

01/05/2026

01/05/2026

16/04/2026

09/02/2026

24/12/2025

23/12/2025

22/12/2025

22/12/2025

20/12/2025

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