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Trauma is a bitch. I do not mean the fun, snarky kind of bitch. I mean the straight up rude, obnoxious, grudge-holding bitch. It is the one that will force you to rethink your very existence. Well, in my case, it shaped how I think about mine. My thinking took on a black-and-white mentality. There
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I simply felt unnerved. I was just on edge. My sleep schedule turned erratic either staring at the ceiling unable to fall asleep or waking up at odd hours in the early morning. When talking to friends, the conversation lacked depth. My outward emotion was incongruent with my inner turmoil. My feeling felt detached from
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When I started this blog a few years back, self-care tips strategies served as the primary focus. From time to time however, I threw my own well-being journey in there as well. My site evolved from a self-help site to sometimes acting as a public diary. I pour my heart out on here discussing a
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I apologize in advance for not posting over the last few weeks. Yours truly took a little bit of a hiatus from blogging and for good reason. Allow me to explain. I felt like I was in a good enough place to finally confront my demons. A plethora of factors played into this. For me,
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For the last three or four days, I dreaded writing this post, but I promised myself I would do it. Instead of writing some fluffy intro or fun anecdote, I am following the advice of my eighth grade English teacher, “Just get straight to it.” Chronic trauma defined the majority of my childhood, teenage years,
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I sat here on my couch for a solid half a day off and on, contemplating if I should focus on a self-care tip or take a more personal route with this week’s post. With my life being an absolute shit show right now, I decided to go with the latter. Not only does it
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Along with ninety-nine percent of society, my daily routine flipped itself upside down when COVID-19 bitch slapped us with lockdown restrictions. Going to get our morning coffee, waking the kids up for school, or even going for a morning jog either became interrupted or nonexistent. Personally, my entire schedule got jacked up. This is what
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Real talk for a minute. This virus shit blows, and I’m not doing well because of it. There I said it. Yours truly. The almighty Caring Counselor. My mental health feels beaten to a bloody pulp. Between dealing with my own bullshit and my loved ones’ bullshit, the ends of my internal rubber band are
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Misery loves company, and, oh boy, has it not been plentiful lately. It feels as if everyone I talk to is down in the dumps. My clients are going ape shit (I am a mental health counselor). My loved ones call me constantly checking in on me and sharing morbid updates. My friends moan and
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In my wonderful state of New Jersey, doctors in an urgent care diagnosed our states first COVID-19 case on March 4, 2020. We now enter our fifth week of this outbreak. To say that this has been anything short of a clusterf*ck would be an understatement. Every day another piece of normalcy feels like it
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The Caring Counselor 