Body-focused repetitive behaviors (BFRBs), such as skin picking, nail biting, and hair pulling are common. Body-focused repetitive behaviors (BFRBs) are quite prevalent, with studies indicating that between 23% and 60% of individuals report participating in at least one BFRB. Of these, roughly 0.5% to 4.4% meet the criteria for a diagnosable clinical BFRB disorder. Research highlights that BFRBs are more commonly observed in females. These behaviors typically begin during lat

When I work with clients, especially those experiencing intrusive thoughts, anxiety, or OCD, I often talk about a small but powerful part of the brain called the amygdala. It is a tiny structure, but it plays a huge role in how we experience fear, anxiety, and perceived danger. Understanding the amygdala can actually be very empowering for people struggling with anxiety or obsessive thoughts because it helps explain something important: your brain is trying to protect you, ev

Loneliness is the feeling that arises when there is too much space, real or imagined, between ourselves and others. It reflects our deep, inherent desire for companionship and community. Although loneliness can be uncomfortable, it carries an important message: it reminds us of our need for human connection and gently urges us to seek it. Loneliness is not the same as being physically alone. We can feel lonely even when surrounded by people if we feel unseen, misunderstood, o

“I mean, people have it worse than me,” an all too familiar statement. Trauma is one of the most misunderstood topics in mental health. It’s also one of the most common. Many people hear the word trauma and immediately think of extreme events: active combat, assault, severe abuse, or life-threatening accidents. Those experiences absolutely can be traumatic, and trauma is not defined solely by what happened. Trauma is defined by how the experience was processed and stored in

Feeling “not enough” is a quiet kind of heaviness. It’s not loud like panic or sharp like heartbreak. It’s subtle. Like wearing a backpack of stones that no one else can see. You move through the world looking fine enough, functioning enough, but every step feels like you’re dragging something you can’t name. It shows up when you shrink your achievements because part of you feels like you don’t deserve to be proud. When you apologize for taking up space, for having needs, for