The bigness of your emotions gets to exist in this therapy space. To have a witness meet the fullness of who you are, no critique, no judgment. No rushing to fix or solve in the ways capitalism has conditioned urgency and speed.

Oftentimes, we don’t realize the impact of months, years, or decades of repressed and ignored emotions and experiences, and we crave a safe enough relationship in which to express them.

I know this to be true because the first few years of my personal therapy journey provided me with the conditions to be held in the darkest places in the ways I needed and celebrated in the most glorious (and often tiniest) wins. Coming from the environment and culture I was raised within, the bar was set super high for what I had to produce to be celebrated, and the smallest missteps would result in the biggest explosions.

I grew up as a 1st generation Canadian. My ancestors were from India and migrated to East Africa, where my parents were born and raised. When expelled in 1972, they arrived in Canada. The excitement of opportunity was short-lived. My Dad struggled deeply with his mental and emotional well-being from a young age. My Mom’s disabilities became more prevalent. Our home was a melting pot of stress, tension, and eruptions of volatile frustration one moment and then back to ‘normal’ the next. It was confusing and destabilizing. I quickly learned who I had to be to keep the peace. I picked up on tone, body cues, the way a door was closed, or the way someone walked in or out of the room. I became a good helper and mediator. I made sure everyone’s needs were met and stayed out of the way to avoid creating any disturbances. I had my son at a very young age, 22, which came with tons of judgment and backlash. Likely in part because I was unwed, young, hadn’t pursued post-secondary education and didn’t have much stability. There was a lot of fear. This kicked off about 12 years of survival mode. And I didn’t realize I was in it. Around this time, my circumstances began to turn. With the combination of an incredible partner, a wonderfully understanding son, supportive parents (they came around), amazing friends, and my own therapy journey, I began to find my way.

In 2022, my Dad passed away unexpectedly and tragically. I was deeply involved in his last weeks and had the privilege of caring for him, which was both truly remarkable and gut-wrenching all at once. Grief unravelled me like I’ve never experienced. And it unleashed a rage I didn’t even know I was carrying. My Dad’s death has been another vessel of learning and wisdom. The pain, disappointment, and anger, in hindsight, have been tremendous teachers. They revealed so much around boundaries, lovingly critiquing how caregiving was looped into a flavour validation and identity. It taught me where, how and with whom I wish to share time, energy and resources. Most precious of all, it taught me that I can surrender to being cared for. I don’t have to hold myself up on my own.

And neither do you. We call on the wisdom of the body to align with new actions, responses, choices, and different ways of being. You get clear on your needs, wants and how to move with a little more courage, a little less freeze. Your most liberated self is waiting for you.