Remade in Therapy

Remade in Therapy Experienced Childhood Trauma Psychotherapist

We’ve all felt it that quiet, unmistakable change in the air when a conversation turns cold, when a room empties of warm...
18/12/2025

We’ve all felt it that quiet, unmistakable change in the air when a conversation turns cold, when a room empties of warmth, or when a once-vibrant connection begins to drain rather than fill you. It’s not always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s just a subtle heaviness in your chest, a sudden fatigue, or an inner voice whispering, “This isn’t right anymore.”

That’s energy speaking. Not in words, but in truth.

People can smile and say the right things. Situations can look perfect on the surface. But energy doesn’t pretend. It reveals what’s really there - alignment or resistance, safety or threat, growth or stagnation.

The bravest thing you can do is listen to it.

When the energy lifts, when you feel lighter, clearer, more alive around someone or something then lean in. Follow it.

When it drops, when you feel smaller, doubtful, or exhausted without clear reason, pause. Honour the signal. Step back, even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if others don’t understand.

Staying where the energy has shifted against you isn’t loyalty. It’s denial.

Moving toward what energises you isn’t selfish. It’s alignment.

Energy never lies.
The question is - are you brave enough to believe it?

We live in an age of endless swipes, surface chatter, and curated highlights. Connection has never been easier to find, ...
17/12/2025

We live in an age of endless swipes, surface chatter, and curated highlights. Connection has never been easier to find, yet genuine depth feels rarer than ever. We trade vulnerability for convenience, mistaking proximity for intimacy, likes for understanding.

To desire deep connection is to refuse the shallow. It’s choosing the discomfort of being truly seen over the safety of being merely tolerated. It’s late-night conversations that unravel souls, silences that speak louder than words, friendships that withstand storms, love that demands growth rather than comfort.

Settling is quiet erosion. It’s accepting half-truths because full honesty feels risky. It’s staying in relationships that dim your light because leaving feels harder than enduring. It’s convincing yourself that “good enough” is enough, when your heart knows it hungers for more.

Never settle doesn’t mean chasing perfection. It means honouring your own capacity to feel deeply, to give wholly, to build something real. It means believing you are worthy of someone who meets you there not halfway, but all the way.

Guard that desire fiercely. Let it guide you, even when it leads through loneliness. Because the alternative, numbing the longing and shrinking your expectations is a slow betrayal of the person you’re meant to become.

Stay restless for depth.
The right connections are waiting for those who refuse to accept less.

Your body isn't a machine that runs on willpower alone - it's a finely tuned orchestra governed by an ancient 24-hour rh...
16/12/2025

Your body isn't a machine that runs on willpower alone - it's a finely tuned orchestra governed by an ancient 24-hour rhythm, the circadian clock. Yet in our always-on world, we rarely learn its symphony. As the quote reminds us, cortisol surges in the early morning (typically peaking around wake-up time) to energize you for the day ahead. Digestion hums optimally during daylight hours, when insulin sensitivity and nutrient absorption are at their best. And deep restorative processes, like liver detoxification, ramp up in the quiet of night.

But modern habits fight this rhythm i.e. gulping coffee on an empty stomach spikes cortisol unnaturally, late-night heavy meals strain a slowing metabolism, and endless scrolling delays sleep when melatonin should rise. The result? That familiar cycle - wired yet exhausted at night, groggy in the morning, bloated and sluggish after eating. These aren't random flaws; they're signals of misalignment, linked to disrupted energy, mood swings, and even higher risks of metabolic issues over time.

What if reclaiming vitality isn't about extreme diets or hacks, but simply listening? Aligning meals, caffeine, and rest with your body's innate timing isn't an overhaul, it's a return to harmony. Small shifts, like eating earlier or dimming screens at dusk, could quiet the chaos. In a culture that glorifies hustle, perhaps the most radical act is syncing with the clock we've always had.

Perhaps then we wouldn't much lose so much energy by ignoring it?

That letter to your inner child, those quiet, aching words, lands like a long-overdue apology to a part of you that neve...
15/12/2025

That letter to your inner child, those quiet, aching words, lands like a long-overdue apology to a part of you that never stopped waiting.

We spend decades believing love is a transaction i.e. perform well, stay small, anticipate needs, and maybe you’ll be chosen. The child inside learns early that feelings are inconvenient, that worth must be proven, that survival means shrinking. So we grow up begging for scraps of affection we were born deserving, carrying the exhaustion of that begging into every adult relationship.

But the truth is gentler and more radical than we allow ourselves to believe in that you were never broken for needing love. You were never too much for feeling deeply. Your worth was never up for debate.

Writing those words; “It’s safe to be you now” is an act of rebellion against every voice that taught you otherwise. It’s a promise that the vigilant, people-pleasing sentinel can finally rest. The part of you that learned to survive by disappearing gets to come home.

Re-parenting yourself isn’t about fixing what was wrong with you; it’s about giving the child you were the fierce, unwavering protection she never received. It’s choosing, every day, to speak to yourself with the tenderness no one else offered.

And slowly, something shifts. The begging stops. The heart, long braced for rejection, begins to unclench. You realise that the love you chased outside was always waiting within - patient, unbroken, ready to be claimed.

You were enough then.
You are enough now.
The child inside is finally hearing it from someone who will never leave.
You.

The brain’s quiet miracle is its ability to fold others into the architecture of the self.When someone becomes close to ...
14/12/2025

The brain’s quiet miracle is its ability to fold others into the architecture of the self.

When someone becomes close to us, be it a partner, a child or a lifelong friend, something literal happens. Neural pathways that once tracked only “me” begin to track “them” with the same urgency. We feel their joy as a lift in our own chest, their anxiety as a knot in ours. Neuroscientists call this interpersonal neural resonance. Poets have always simply called it love.

This merging isn’t sentimental exaggeration. Brain scans show that when we imagine a loved one’s pain, the same pain-matrix regions light up as when we experience it ourselves. Their triumphs activate our reward circuits almost as strongly as our own. Over time, the boundary between self and other blurs at the level of prediction. Your mind runs silent simulations of how they would react, what they would need, before you even consciously decide to ask.

This expansion of self is both beautiful and precarious. It explains why loss can feel like amputation because in a real sense, part of the neural territory that was “you” has gone dark. It also explains empathy’s quiet heroism, every time we truly understand another person, we are literally enlarging ourselves.

Yet there is a gentle warning here. The same mechanism that lets us carry others inside us can distort them if we’re careless. We risk turning real people into convenient extensions of our own needs, rather than distinct minds worthy of their own space.

The deepest intimacy, then, may not be fusion but a respectful cohabitation, in that we can allow another person to live vividly within us while still granting them the freedom to surprise us, to change and to remain forever a little mysterious.

In the end, the brain’s greatest trick is not that it models the world, but that it models worlds that include others as indispensable parts of itself. We are not isolated minds trapped in skulls. We are, each of us, a quiet chorus and the clearest voices in that chorus often belong to those we love.

What if the racing heart, the restless nights, the sudden waves of dread aren’t symptoms to medicate away, but signals? ...
13/12/2025

What if the racing heart, the restless nights, the sudden waves of dread aren’t symptoms to medicate away, but signals? Not a malfunction, but a rebellion.

We’ve built a world that prizes calm surfaces such as steady jobs, predictable routines, polite conversations that never scrape too close to the bone. We call this “normal,” and anything that disrupts it i.e panic, longing, fury, wild joy, we label disordered.

But perhaps that tightness in your chest is your deeper self clawing at the bars. It knows you were not made to shrink into schedules and scripts. It remembers that you once dreamed without ceilings, loved without caution, felt the pull of something vast and unnamed. And now, confined to a life measured in productivity and small talk, it thrashes trying to break free.

Anxiety might not be the enemy trying to break in.
It might be the prisoner trying to break out.

The question is - will you keep tightening the locks, numbing the noise with distractions and diagnoses?
Or will you finally listen to what it’s screaming, that the cage itself is the sickness, and the only cure is to risk becoming dangerously and gloriously alive?

Fear is not merely an emotion - it's a quiet tyrant. It disguises itself as caution, as wisdom, as the voice of reason w...
12/12/2025

Fear is not merely an emotion - it's a quiet tyrant. It disguises itself as caution, as wisdom, as the voice of reason whispering, "Better safe than sorry." In small doses, it keeps us alive, keeps us sharp. But left unchecked, fear grows roots. It becomes the unseen architect of a smaller life.

Most people don't die in dramatic confrontation with their fears. They die slowly, day by day, serving them faithfully. The dream deferred because "it's not the right time." The truth unspoken because "it might upset someone." The risk untaken because "what if I fail?" Each concession feels minor, justifiable. Yet over decades, these tiny surrenders compound into a life that looks secure on the outside but feels hollow within.

To kill your fear doesn't mean becoming reckless. It means refusing to let it sit in the driver's seat. It means acting despite the tremor in your hands, speaking despite the knot in your throat, leaping despite the vertigo. Every time you do, the fear loses a little power. It doesn't vanish, it never fully does but, it shrinks from master to advisor.

The alternative is grim, a slow death by obedience. A lifetime spent polishing the chains of comfort until they gleam like jewellery. Regret, in the end, is rarely about the things we did. It's about the fears we served so loyally that we forgot we had a choice.

So ask yourself - what fear have you been feeding lately? And how much of this one life are you willing to trade to keep it alive?

Growth is quiet. It doesn’t announce itself with drama or ultimatums. It simply moves upward, towards the light, towards...
11/12/2025

Growth is quiet. It doesn’t announce itself with drama or ultimatums. It simply moves upward, towards the light, towards better air. Branches thicken, roots deepen, and suddenly the dead leaves that once clung tight lose their grip. They drift down on their own. No scissors, no confrontation, no final text message required.

People are the same.
When you stay small (angry, petty, addicted to being right), certain relationships feel comfortable because everyone is playing at the same low altitude. The moment you start rising (healing old wounds, keeping promises to yourself, choosing peace over chaos), the fit changes. Some cheer you on and climb with you. Others feel the distance growing and start clutching. A few will even try to pull you back down to where the air is familiar.

But if you keep growing, something merciful happens - they fall away naturally. Not because you pushed, but because they can no longer hold on to who you’re becoming. It isn’t cruel. It’s physics.

The quote is a reminder of dignity.
You don’t owe every person a dramatic exit speech. You don’t need to prove they were toxic, or win the breakup, or have the last word. Your only job is forward motion. Tend to your own soil, reach for your own sun. The rest sorts itself.

The tree never apologises for the leaves it loses in autumn.
It’s too busy preparing for spring.

In the end, your life isn’t defined by who you cut out.
It’s defined by who can still reach you when you’re higher up.

So just grow.

In a world drowning in noise - headlines screaming contradictions, timelines flooded with outrage, lives fractured by en...
10/12/2025

In a world drowning in noise - headlines screaming contradictions, timelines flooded with outrage, lives fractured by endless distractions, we often label it all "chaos." Random, meaningless and overwhelming.

But what if it's not chaos at all?

What if connecting the dots leads to something entirely different.

This quiet idea challenges our instinct to recoil from disorder. Instead of turning away, it invites us to lean in. To look closer. To trace lines between events we dismissed as unrelated, between pains we thought isolated, between choices that seemed insignificant.

History is full of such moments. What looked like senseless upheaval be it the fall of empires, revolutions or personal crises have all later revealed themselves as transitions. The dots, once connected, formed a pattern - not randomness, but love disguised as transformation.

On a personal level, the same holds true. The job lost, the end of a relationship, the dreams that have been delayed - these can feel like scattered wreckages. Yet years later, many of us look back and see the hidden thread, how one ending cleared space for a beginning we couldn’t have foreseen.

Connecting the dots doesn’t deny suffering. It doesn’t pretend pain has no weight. It simply refuses to let the story end in fragmentation.

Perhaps the chaos we fear is just a picture we haven’t finished seeing.

Step back. Draw the lines.

Something else, a deeper meaning, direction, even beauty might be waiting on the other side. And then you'll realise it was love all along.

Intimacy isn’t fireworks or grand gestures. It’s the quiet exhale when you realize you don’t have to perform, explain, o...
09/12/2025

Intimacy isn’t fireworks or grand gestures. It’s the quiet exhale when you realize you don’t have to perform, explain, or brace for impact.

It’s the moment silence feels warm instead of loaded. When disagreement doesn’t trigger defense, because the voice across from you still sounds like home. It’s being witnessed (really seen) while you’re falling apart, without the urge to fix you or flee.

True intimacy lives in the small, brave choices, in the way someone says your name like it matters, the questions they keep asking long after most people stop, the way they soften instead of stiffen when you reveal the parts you usually hide.

It’s surrender disguised as safety. Not the absence of conflict, but the presence of trust so deep that conflict doesn’t feel like war.

We spend years chasing passion, mistaking intensity for closeness. But the rarest thing is someone who makes vulnerability feel like resting, not risking.

That’s intimacy - the peace of finally being known, and still being stayed for.

Everything that enters it gestates. A careless word, a venomous argument, a stranger’s road rage - they all slip past th...
08/12/2025

Everything that enters it gestates.

A careless word, a venomous argument, a stranger’s road rage - they all slip past the threshold, settle in the dark, and begin to grow. Nine minutes or nine years later, something is born wearing your voice, your choices, your future.

We laugh at the idea that words echoed could impregnate us, yet we’ve all met people who sound exactly like the feeds they marinate in - bitter, terrified, grandiose, numb. Their speech has the same cadence as the voices they volunteered to carry. They didn’t choose those voices at the beginning, but they kept the door open, and conception only needs one unguarded moment.

The reverse is quieter but truer. Listen long enough to courage, to precise thinking, to mercy spoken aloud, and you’ll feel it. The quickening - a calmer pulse, sharper discernment, the sudden reflex to forgive or build instead of tear down. You become what you have allowed to be conceived in you.

There is no neutral sound. Silence itself is a voice if you let it speak.

So guard the gate.
Curate ruthlessly.
What you listen to is voting with your entire life, one conception at a time.

Choose the ancestors of your future self carefully.

They’re already whispering inside you.

We spend our lives building elaborate sandcastles against the tide. We map careers, save for exact futures, rehearse con...
07/12/2025

We spend our lives building elaborate sandcastles against the tide. We map careers, save for exact futures, rehearse conversations that will never happen the way we imagine. We mistake the map for the territory and the forecast for reality. Then the wave comes be it in the form of illness, betrayal, market crash, love that arrives or leaves without warning and that castle dissolves in an instant.

The illusion of control is comforting until it isn’t.

True readiness looks different. It’s the quiet confidence of someone who has stopped asking “What if this specific thing goes wrong?” and started asking “Who do I become when everything I counted on disappears?” It’s the athlete who trains not just to execute the plan but to improvise when the plan dies on page one. It’s the entrepreneur who knows the business model is mostly fiction, yet steps forward anyway.

This mindset isn’t optimism. Optimism expects good outcomes; this expects nothing and therefore fears nothing. It’s not resignation either. Resignation sits down. This mindset keeps moving, lighter now, unburdened by the need to be right about the future.

Uncertainty is not the enemy. Rigidity is.

A mind trained for uncertainty treats life like jazz, not a symphony. The notes matter, but the spaces between them - the surprises, the wrong turns, the moments when the melody breaks, is where the music actually happens.

Prepare all you want for the storm you can name.
The real storm that sinks you will be the one you never saw coming.

So practice being comfortable with not knowing.

For it is only in discomfort that you'll become the you, that you’ll ever really need.

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