Nov 23, 2025
November Q&A: When Fear Lives in Your Bones (Even After All the Work You’ve Done)
Hey friend, The questions you submitted for this month’s Q&A revealed something I see constantly with driven and ambitious women: the exhausting paradox of being professionally competent while your body still treats important moments like survival threats. Questions about why the old fear of speaking up comes back at the most critical moments—even after years…
What's Running Your Life?
The invisible patterns you can’t outwork…
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. If vacation makes you anxious, if praise feels hollow, if you’re planning your next move before finishing the current one—you’re not alone. And you’re *not* broken.
This quiz reveals the invisible patterns from childhood that keep you running. Why enough is never enough. Why success doesn’t equal satisfaction. Why rest feels like risk.
Five minutes to understand what’s really underneath that exhausting, constant drive.
START THE QUIZ
Welcome!
I’m so glad you’re here.
At my core, I’m a writer. A licensed psychotherapist, yes—but long before the titles and credentials, writing has been the throughline of my life. Since 2015, this blog has served as a quiet corner of the internet for women healing the effects of early relational trauma—offering essays on everything from perfectionism and boundaries to grief, burnout, and parenting with a trauma history.
Over the years, these words have reached hundreds of thousands of readers. This archive now holds more than 260 essays: a kind of digital library for the ambitious woman trying to feel as solid on the inside as her life looks on the outside.
If you’ve landed here searching for support, insight, or simply language for what you’ve been carrying, you’ve landed exactly where you need to be.
Going forward, all of my new writing lives in one space:
Strong and Stable on Substack – a nervous system-informed weekly newsletter about healing the foundation beneath achievement.
If you’ve found comfort or clarity in this archive, I hope you’ll join me there. There’s room for your pace, whatever it may be.
Warmly,
