You Changed My Life (And You Probably Don't Even Know It)
I was sitting in my home office yesterday morning, surrounded by my favorite books and Disney mementos, reading your responses when...
I was sitting in my home office yesterday morning, surrounded by my favorite books and Disney mementos, reading through your responses to last week's newsletter when something happened that made me stop everything.
I started crying.
Not sad tears—the kind of tears that come when something touches the deepest part of who you are. The kind that surprise you with their intensity.
My French bulldog Brutus looked up from his spot by my orange wall, concerned by the sudden shift in energy. Even he could sense that something profound was happening.
Since launching this newsletter in March 2024, something has shifted in me that I never expected when I first hit "publish." What started as my weekly way of sharing insights from my therapy practice has become something that's fundamentally changed who I am as both a person and a therapist.
The responses that broke me open
Sarah from Colorado wrote: "Your newsletter about making yourself smaller hit me so hard I had to pull over while driving. I realized I've been apologizing for taking up space my entire life. Thank you for giving me permission to be fully myself."
And then Maria from Texas: "I shared your article about job identity with my entire team. Three of us are now having conversations we should have had years ago about who we are beyond our roles."
And Jennifer from Ohio: "Reading about your morning routine made me realize I haven't felt genuine contentment in months. I'm making changes."
I sat there in my minimal, peaceful workspace—the one I've carefully curated with Brené Brown quotes on the walls and plants I'm still learning to keep alive—and felt something I hadn't expected: I was being changed by the very community I thought I was serving.
What you've taught me about healing
Here's what I've learned from you that they don't teach in graduate school: healing isn't a private process.
In my individual therapy practice, working virtually from this orange-walled room where I meet clients every day, I see profound transformations happen in that sacred one-on-one space. But building this community has shown me something else entirely—there's a different kind of magic that happens when women witness each other's stories and see their own struggles reflected back.
When I wrote about the day I decided to stop making myself small, I thought I was just sharing my story. I didn't realize I was giving you language for something you'd been feeling but couldn't name.
When I shared about my morning routine of getting my 10-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter ready for school and finding moments of contentment in the ordinary chaos, I wasn't expecting dozens of you to tell me it made you question what genuine satisfaction looks like in your own life.
The lesson I learned from my eighth-grade self
I've known since eighth grade graduation—when I told my school counselor I wanted to be a counselor when I grew up—that I wanted to help people get better. I'm passionate about teaching tools that people can use in everyday life, about working myself out of a job by getting clients to a place where they no longer need therapy.
But you've taught me something my eighth-grade self couldn't have understood: sometimes the helper needs help too, and that's not weakness—that's humanity.
Every story you share, every response you send, every moment you trust me with your vulnerability feeds back into my work in ways I never anticipated.
When a client tells me she feels guilty for wanting more than just surviving, I think about Jennifer's email about not feeling contentment.
When someone struggles with speaking up at work, I remember Maria's courage to share difficult conversations with her team.
When a woman apologizes for taking up space in our virtual session, I hear Sarah's words about pulling over on the side of the road.
The ripple effect I never expected
Here's what makes me emotional: I started this newsletter hoping my words might help you. But what's actually happened is that your responses help other readers, who then share with their friends, who then make changes in their own lives.
You've created a ripple effect of women giving themselves permission to take up space, to feel content, to challenge the cultural norm that says we should make ourselves smaller to make others comfortable.
As I wrote in my piece about building boundaries like Brené Brown, this kind of community healing happens when we're brave enough to be seen in our imperfection.
The Sunday afternoon realization
Last Sunday, after spending the morning at walking around Disneyland I was sitting with my Kindle when it hit me:
This newsletter has become the thing that bridges my love for helping people with my need for authentic connection.
Reading 70+ books a year, I'm constantly absorbing insights about human behavior, resilience, and growth. But it's through writing to you that these insights come alive and become useful tools rather than just interesting concepts.
Your invitation this week
Here's what I want to know: What's one specific moment from these newsletters that shifted something for you? It could be a phrase, a story, a realization—anything that stuck.
Reply and tell me. Not because I need the validation (though I'm human and it helps), but because your story might be exactly what another woman needs to hear.
As I write this, Brutus is sprawled across the floor of my office, completely content in this space we've created together. My plants are somehow still alive (progress!), my Brené Brown quotes remind me daily about the power of vulnerability, and I'm surrounded by the books that have shaped my thinking and my Disney mementos that remind me to find magic in everyday moments.
Thank you for letting me be part of your story. Thank you for being part of mine.
Until next week,
A few friendly notes: Client names are always changed to protect privacy. This newsletter may contain affiliate links to products I genuinely love and use myself. While I'm a licensed therapist, this content is for educational purposes and isn't medical advice - think of it as a conversation with a friend who happens to know about mental health. For personalized support, always consult your healthcare provider.