March 2026

Uncoupling: You Are Not Your Past

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You are not your past.
You are not your memories, your experiences, or the sum of the things that have happened to you.

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This month’s theme—Uncoupling—comes from a somatic term that helps us understand something important about activation and triggers. When we’ve experienced trauma, different elements of our experience can become over-linked (overcoupled) or under-linked (undercoupled).

One way overcoupling can happen is when something in the present moment gets connected to something from the past—even when the two things are actually unrelated.

For example: imagine getting stung by a bee that happened to be sitting on a rose. The sting hurts. Your body goes into fear. Later, every time you see a rose, you feel panic—even though the rose itself isn’t dangerous. The present moment (rose) has become linked to the past event (bee sting).

This is the mechanism behind many of our triggers.

Uncoupling is the gentle process of helping the nervous system differentiate between then and now. It’s reminding the body that the current moment is not the past. It’s widening the lens so that we are not fused with every thought, emotion, or memory that arises.

Part of the uncoupling process is offering our bodies clear, consistent reminders that we are here—now.

That we are in a different season.
That we have more resources.
That the threat is not happening in this moment.

You are not the surge of anxiety.
You are not the memory.
You are not the old story replaying itself.

You are the one noticing.

As we move through this month, I invite you to get curious:
What helps you know you are here right now?

Is it feeling your feet on the ground?
Noticing the temperature of the air?
Hearing the sounds around you?

Uncoupling isn’t about erasing the past. It’s about loosening the links that keep you stuck in it—so you can live more fully in the present.
 

 

 

February 2026

Radical Self-Care: Embodying Caring for Yourself

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The term self-care has been swept up by social media and pop psychology and flattened into something it was never meant to be. It’s been framed as lavish spending, constant indulgence, or becoming so self-focused that meaningful relationships and connection fall away. That version of self-care is loud, marketable, and incomplete.

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Yes—radical self-care might include a massage, a long bath, or a weekend getaway. Those things can be nourishing. But radical self-care is so much more than what you buy or how aesthetic your rest looks.

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Radical self-care is about managing your expectations while honoring your actual capacity. It’s the ongoing practice of listening to your body and being honest about what you can and cannot hold in a given season. It’s doing the hard, uncomfortable work of setting boundaries—even when that means disappointing others or tolerating guilt.

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Radical self-care also includes doing things you may not want to do in the present because you care about future you. It’s choosing the slower path, the steadier rhythm, the decision that supports your nervous system long-term rather than offering immediate relief.

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Sometimes radical self-care looks like pushing yourself to rest—especially if you’ve been conditioned to equate your worth with productivity. It’s actively working to uncouple your value from how much you produce, how much you give, or how available you are to others.

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And sometimes, radical self-care is letting yourself cry. Letting the tears come even if your inner child learned that crying was dangerous, shameful, or something that would be punished. It’s allowing your body to release what it was once forced to hold.

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Radical self-care is embodied. It’s relational. It’s not always pretty or easy—but it is deeply protective and profoundly healing.

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Caring for yourself isn’t about doing more, indulgence, or a reward for productivity.
It’s a practice of listening more closely and learning how to honor yourself—consistently.

 

 

 

January 2026

You Are What You Needed and Deserved--Connecting With Your Inner Child

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For many people, the idea of “connecting with your inner child” brings up an immediate reaction—this feels weird, cringey, or even unsafe. If that’s you, you’re not doing it wrong. You’re being honest.

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Inner child work isn’t always soft, sweet, or tender. Sometimes it brings up embarrassment, resistance, anger, or deep shame. Sometimes the inner child doesn’t feel lovable at all—they feel needy, annoying, fragile, or like a reminder of everything that wasn’t protected.

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And that makes sense.

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For those of us who grew up having to be “too mature,” self-reliant, emotionally quiet, or constantly attuned to others, our inner child may feel like a liability rather than someone deserving care. You may have learned—explicitly or implicitly—that having needs was dangerous, inconvenient, or pointless. So of course there can be resentment toward that younger part of you. Why were you so sensitive? Why couldn’t you just deal with it? Why do you still show up now?

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Sometimes the anger we feel toward our inner child is actually grief in disguise. Grief for what they endured. Grief for what no one stepped in to provide.

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And sometimes there is shame—because that child holds the memories, the fear, the longing, the unmet needs. Shame often shows up not because something is wrong with the child, but because no one taught them they were allowed to exist fully.

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Here’s the reframe I want to offer you gently:

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You are what you needed and deserved.

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Not because you should have had to be.
Not because it was fair.
But because you survived—and now you get to choose something different.

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Connecting with your inner child doesn’t mean forcing affection or pretending things were okay. It doesn’t mean talking in a way that feels unnatural or performative. It starts with permission. Permission to notice. Permission to feel ambivalent. Permission to move slowly.

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Sometimes connection looks like saying:
I didn’t protect you then—but I see you now.

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Sometimes it looks like boundaries:
I won’t abandon myself the way others did.

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Sometimes it’s simply recognizing how hard that child worked to keep you alive.

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You don’t have to like your inner child right away. You don’t have to feel warmth or tenderness. Relationship takes time—especially when trust was broken early.

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But over time, something shifts when you stop asking, What’s wrong with this part of me?
And start asking, What happened to you?

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Healing doesn’t come from erasing the child you were.
It comes from standing beside them—steadier, resourced, and present—offering what they never received.

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You are not too late.
You are not doing it wrong.
And you don’t have to do it all at once.

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Connection begins with willingness.
And sometimes, that’s more than enough.