The State of the Union: A Weekly Check‑In That Can Transform Your Relationship

Most couples don’t drift apart because they don’t care.
They drift apart because life gets loud.

Between work, kids, stress, trauma histories, neurodivergent brains, grief, and exhaustion, relationships often become reactive instead of intentional. Conversations turn into arguments. Important topics get avoided. And before you know it, connection gets replaced by distance.

That’s where the Gottman Method’s “State of the Union” meeting comes in.

This isn’t about fixing everything or having perfect communication. It’s about creating a predictable, emotionally safe space to check in, repair, and stay connected—before resentment builds.

What Is a State of the Union Meeting?

Developed by Drs. John and Julie Gottman, the State of the Union is a weekly relationship check‑in designed to help couples:

• Stay emotionally connected

• Address concerns gently

• Build appreciation and fondness

• Reduce blow‑ups and emotional shutdowns

Think of it as preventative maintenance for your relationship, not a crisis meeting.

According to the Gottman Institute, this structured conversation helps couples talk about what’s working, what’s not, and what needs attention—without turning every issue into a fight.

Why Weekly Check‑Ins Matter

Many couples tell me,

“We talk all the time—why do we need a meeting?”

Here’s the difference:
Most daily conversations are logistical (“Who’s picking up the kids?”) or reactive (“Why didn’t you text me back?”).

The State of the Union is intentional.

Research consistently shows that how couples talk about problems predicts relationship outcomes more than the problems themselves. Regular check‑ins reduce defensiveness, increase emotional attunement, and help couples feel like a team again.

The Four Core Parts (Made Practical)

1. Start With Appreciation (Yes, Even If You’re Annoyed)

Each partner shares five specific appreciations from the past week.

Not:

“Thanks for being a good spouse.”

But:

“I appreciated how you handled bedtime when I was overwhelmed. It made me feel supported.”

Why this matters: Appreciation activates safety in the nervous system and sets a collaborative tone for harder conversations.

Tip: If five feels like too much, start with three. Consistency matters more than perfection.

2. Talk About What Went Well

This step is often skipped—and it’s a mistake.

Ask:

• When did we feel connected this week?

• What did we handle well together?

• What do we want to keep doing?

Couples who intentionally name their strengths build emotional resilience, making it easier to navigate conflict when it shows up.

3. Address Concerns Gently (One at a Time)

This isn’t the time to unload the entire relationship history.

Choose one issue or a “regrettable incident” from the week.

Use a softened start‑up, which the Gottman research shows is crucial for preventing escalation:

“I feel ___ about ___, and what I need is ___.”

Example:

“I felt disconnected when we didn’t talk after dinner. I need some intentional check‑in time.”

During this part, Gottman emphasizes ATTUNEMENT:

• Awareness

• Tolerance

• Turning toward

• Understanding

• Non‑defensive listening

• Empathy

Tip: If either partner feels flooded or overwhelmed, pause. Regulation comes before resolution.

4. End With Connection

Before wrapping up:

• Express affection

• Thank each other for showing up

• Name one thing you’re hopeful about

This helps the conversation end in connection rather than depletion, reinforcing that you’re on the same side.

Making It Work in Real Life

Let’s be honest—weekly meetings can sound unrealistic.

Here’s how couples actually make it stick:

• ✅ Same day, same time each week

• ✅ Phones away

• ✅ Keep it under 60 minutes

• ✅ Snacks count as emotional support

Some couples start with 15–20 minutes and build from there. That still counts.

When It’s Especially Helpful

The State of the Union is particularly powerful for couples navigating:

• Parenting stress

• ADHD or neurodivergence

• Trauma or loss

• High‑conflict cycles

• Emotional distance

It provides structure when emotions feel messy and safety when conversations feel risky.

Final Thoughts

Healthy relationships aren’t conflict‑free.
They’re repair‑rich.

The State of the Union isn’t about doing everything right—it’s about showing up regularly, with intention, curiosity, and care.

If you’re feeling stuck, disconnected, or unsure how to have these conversations without things spiraling, couples therapy can help guide the process and tailor it to your unique relationship.

Your relationship deserves that kind of care.

Spring Break Isn’t Always a Break: Managing Stress, Expectations, and Overstimulation

Spring break is supposed to feel like relief.

A pause.
A reset.
A chance to rest, connect, and maybe even enjoy ourselves.

And yet, for many people—especially parents, caregivers, and neurodivergent adults—spring break can feel anything but restful. In my therapy office, I hear it every year: “I thought I’d feel better… but I’m more exhausted than before.”

As both a therapist and someone with ADHD, I want to say this clearly:

If spring break doesn’t feel like a break for you, you’re not doing it wrong.

Why Spring Break Can Increase Stress Instead of Relieve It

Spring break often disrupts the very things that help us feel regulated: routine, predictability, and structure. School schedules change. Work expectations stay the same. Childcare becomes more complicated. Travel, crowds, noise, and social demands increase.

From a nervous‑system perspective, our bodies don’t automatically interpret “time off” as safe or calming. For many people—especially those already stretched thin—these sudden shifts can push us outside our window of tolerance, making regulation harder, not easier.

This isn’t a personal failure.
It’s biology.

The Pressure to Make Spring Break “Magical”

There’s also an unspoken expectation that spring break should be special.

Fun.
Memory‑making.
Instagram‑worthy.

But that pressure—especially for parents—can quietly turn into emotional labor. Planning, coordinating, managing behavior, keeping everyone entertained, and making it all look effortless takes energy. A lot of it.

At Summit Family Therapy, we often talk about the importance of good‑enough parenting—letting go of perfection in favor of connection and compassion. Spring break is a perfect place to practice that mindset.

Your kids don’t need a perfect break.
They need a regulated, emotionally available adult.

And sometimes that means lowering the bar.

A Personal Note: Spring Break and ADHD

I want to share this from a personal place.

As someone with ADHD, spring break can be especially challenging for me. Changes in routine are hard. Increased noise and stimulation drain my energy quickly. Transitions—between activities, plans, or expectations—take more mental effort than most people realize.

Even “fun” can be overstimulating.

When I don’t plan for that, I find myself more irritable, more exhausted, and more likely to feel like I’m failing at things that should feel easy. Over time, I’ve learned that managing ADHD during breaks isn’t about pushing through—it’s about working with my brain instead of against it.

That means building in recovery time, protecting my energy, and being honest about my limits. This isn’t weakness. It’s self‑awareness.

Having a Plan and Managing Expectations Can Reduce Anxiety

One of the most helpful things we can do during spring break is hold two truths at the same time:

• Having some plan can reduce anxiety

• Rigid expectations can increase it

For many people—especially those with anxiety, ADHD, or trauma histories—uncertainty is one of the biggest stressors. When everything feels up in the air, our brains stay on high alert. A loose plan—knowing what the day generally holds, what’s expected, and what support is available—can help calm the nervous system.

At the same time, overly detailed or perfectionistic plans often backfire. When things inevitably don’t go exactly as expected (because… life), frustration and self‑criticism creep in.

What tends to work best is flexible structure:

• A general rhythm to the day

• One or two priority activities

• Built‑in downtime

• Permission to change plans without guilt

As someone with ADHD, I function best when I know what’s coming—but I also need space to pivot if my energy, focus, or regulation shifts. A plan gives my brain a sense of safety; realistic expectations give me compassion.

If your plan includes the possibility that plans may change, you’re already reducing anxiety.

Overstimulation Is Real—For Kids and Adults

Spring break often brings more screens, more social interaction, more outings, and less downtime. For neurodivergent kids (and adults), that level of stimulation can lead to meltdowns, shutdowns, irritability, or withdrawal.

These aren’t behavior problems.
They’re signs of a nervous system that needs support.

Some gentle ways to reduce overstimulation during breaks:

• Keep a few predictable anchors in the day

• Build in low‑demand, quiet time

• Lower expectations for productivity

• Normalize rest without earning it

Regulation doesn’t come from doing more—it often comes from doing less.

Redefining What “Rest” Really Means

Rest doesn’t always look like naps or vacations. Sometimes rest looks like:

• Fewer plans

• More flexibility

• Letting go of comparison

• Permission to be human

Spring break doesn’t have to restore you completely. It just needs to not deplete you further.

A Gentle Reminder

If spring break feels hard, you’re not broken.
If you’re counting down until routine returns, you’re not ungrateful.
If you need support navigating stress, transitions, or burnout, you’re not alone.

Mental health care isn’t just for crisis—it’s also for seasons like this, when life feels heavier than expected and you want support making sense of it.

Be gentle with yourself this spring.
Good enough really is enough.

When a TV Show Feels Like Therapy: The Power of Corrective Emotional Experiences

Have you ever watched a TV show or movie that affected you more deeply than you expected?

I’ve had that experience more times than I can count—Heated Rivalry, Heartstopper, and This Is Us, just to name a few. What starts as “just a show” somehow turns into tears on the couch, a lump in your throat, or a quiet realization that stays with you long after the credits roll.

There’s something incredibly powerful about storytelling. Certain shows and films connect with us in ways that feel surprisingly healing—sometimes even reaching places that have taken years to explore in therapy. I’ve had moments of emotional clarity arrive in just a few episodes that took much longer to uncover elsewhere.

In therapy, we have a name for experiences like this: Corrective Emotional Experiences (CEEs). A CEE is “a therapeutic process that allows someone to re‑experience past emotional pain in a safe environment, with a different—often more supportive—outcome.” In simpler terms, it’s when something familiar plays out in a new, healing way.

While CEEs are often associated with the therapy room, they don’t only happen there. More and more, clients share how meaningful moments in popular media have served as corrective experiences for them. Shows like This Is Us, Heated Rivalry, Heartstopper, and Parenthood have been deeply transformative for many people.

Most of us have “comfort shows”—the ones we return to again and again. But we don’t always stop to ask why.

Sometimes, it’s because those stories give us something we didn’t receive when we needed it most.

Relationship expert Esther Perel touches on this beautifully while discussing Heated Rivalry. She describes watching the show with a friend who had already seen it multiple times. As she watched, she noticed something striking: just when she braced herself for something painful or disappointing to happen, the characters responded with care, understanding, or love instead.

That unexpected shift—that moment when harm doesn’t occur—is the heart of a corrective emotional experience.

We see this in powerful ways across popular shows:

In both Heated Rivalry and Heartstopper, when a main character comes out to their mom, the anticipated rejection never comes. Instead of being shut down or pushed away, they are met with unconditional love and acceptance.

In This Is Us, when Rebecca grieves the loss of Jack, she isn’t left alone in her pain. She is surrounded by support, community, and care. The same is true for her children—Kate, Randall, and Kevin—who repeatedly encounter compassion in moments where they might have expected disconnection or misunderstanding.

These moments matter because they mirror real emotional experiences—grief, fear, vulnerability. When we see our own stories reflected on screen, it can feel both exposing and comforting. And when those stories unfold differently than our own—when they end in connection instead of hurt—it can slowly reshape what we expect from others and even what we believe we deserve.

This may be one reason we rewatch certain shows again and again. It isn’t just about familiarity. Rewatching can be regulating. It can be healing. It can be a way of giving ourselves access to the responses we needed but didn’t receive at the time.

Of course, meaningful media doesn’t replace real, relational healing. In therapy, corrective emotional experiences happen in real time—in a space where your story is known, held, and responded to with care.

Still, if you’ve ever noticed yourself having a strong emotional reaction to a show or movie, it might be worth getting curious about that. There may be something important there—something your mind and body are trying to process or heal.

And you don’t have to do that work alone.

So I’m curious—what shows or movies have offered you a corrective emotional experience?

As for me, I’ll be over here rewatching Gilmore Girls.

Resources
Hartman, D., & Zimberoff, D. (2004). Corrective Emotional Experience in the Therapeutic Process.

Stronger, Healthier Friendships: How to Build the Connections That Truly Support You

I’ve written previously about why friendship matters and why it’s often challenging, especially in adulthood. Research consistently shows that strong social connection is one of the greatest predictors of mental and physical health across the lifespan (Harvard Study of Adult Development). And yet, knowing friendship is important doesn’t always make it easy to build.

The logistics of adult life such as busy schedules, transitions, geographic moves, and emotional burnout can all make friendship feel complicated or even discouraging. So how do we actually build healthy, lasting friendships?

Whether you’re hoping to deepen existing relationships or create new ones, here are therapist-informed strategies, grounded in research and real-life experience, that will hopefully help you cultivate meaningful, supportive connections.

1. Prioritize Quality Over Quantity

It’s better to have two or three deeply supportive relationships than dozens of surface-level ones. Research on well-being consistently shows that relationship quality matters far more than social volume.

Look for friendships that offer:

• emotional safety

• mutual care

• trust

• reciprocity

• shared vulnerability

Psychologist Marisa Franco, PhD, author of Platonic, emphasizes that close friendships thrive on consistency, emotional responsiveness, and mutual investment, not proximity or history alone. These are the relationships that truly enrich well-being.

2. Initiate More Often Than Feels Natural

Many people hesitate to reach out because they assume the other person is too busy, uninterested, or “not thinking of them.” In reality, research shows most people underestimate how much others appreciate being contacted.

Text first. Call first. Send the invitation.

Franco’s research on adult friendship highlights initiation as one of the most common barriers to connection, yet also one of the most powerful tools for building closeness. Connection often grows when someone is brave enough to go first.

3. Create Rituals of Connection

Rituals create consistency, which is essential for trust and emotional safety. Without structure, friendships can easily become sporadic, especially in adulthood.

Examples might include:

• monthly coffee dates

• weekly phone check-ins

• Friday night walks

• group dinners

• shared hobbies or classes

The Greater Good Science Center notes that regular shared activities strengthen bonds by creating predictability and emotional presence. Routines turn friendship into a steady presence rather than an occasional event.

4. Practice Vulnerability in Safe Amounts

Healthy friendships require authenticity, but that doesn’t mean oversharing. It means sharing enough of your internal world that someone can truly know you.

You might start with:

• “I’ve been stressed lately and could really use someone to talk to.”

• “I’m feeling a bit disconnected. Can we plan something soon?”

Researcher Brené Brown reminds us that vulnerability isn’t about disclosure without boundaries, it’s about honest sharing within emotionally safe relationships. Small openings often lead to deeper bonds over time.

5. Be a Supportive Friend (Not a Perfect One)

Strong friendships aren’t built on perfection; they’re built on presence.

Offer empathy. Ask good questions. Celebrate wins. Show up when things are hard.

Therapist Harriet Lerner, PhD, writes that sustainable connection depends less on doing things “right” and more on consistency, accountability, honesty, and care. Repairing ruptures matters far more than avoiding them altogether.

6. Diversify Your Social Support System

Even in the healthiest friendships, no one person can meet all of our needs. Expecting that can strain even strong relationships.

A balanced support system might include:

• core “inner-circle” friends

• broader social acquaintances

• community groups

• families of origin or chosen family

• workplace relationships

Sociological research (including Robert Putnam’s work on social capital) shows that layered social networks increase resilience and reduce burnout. Each type of connection offers something different, and all are valuable.

7. Be Patient With the Process

Friendships take time. Trust builds slowly. Shared history accumulates gradually. If new friendships don’t click instantly, that’s normal.

Marisa Franco’s research emphasizes that closeness often follows repeated interaction rather than immediate chemistry. Think of friendship-building like planting a garden: it’s a long-term investment that grows with steady care.

Friendship Is Self-Care

Prioritizing friendships isn’t indulgent; it’s one of the most human things we can do. The longest-running studies on happiness consistently show that people thrive when they feel connected, supported, and valued.

As a therapist, I see this truth again and again in the therapy room. As a human myself, attempting to nurture my own friendships, I can confirm it personally, too.

So consider this your gentle invitation:

Reach out. Reconnect. Initiate. Invest.

Your future self, and your future friendships, will thank you.

Further Reading & Resources

If you’d like to explore this topic further, these resources offer research-based insight in a way that’s approachable, validating, and practical. You don’t need to read or watch everything, consider choosing what feels most relevant to where you are right now.

Books

• Platonic: How the Science of Attachment Can Help You Make—and Keep—Friends by Marisa G. Franco Ph.D.Helpful if you: struggle with initiating friendships, feel unsure how to deepen connections, or wonder why friendship feels harder as an adult.

• Friendship: The Evolution, Biology, and Extraordinary Power of Life’s Fundamental Bond by Lydia DenworthHelpful if you: like understanding the “why” behind human behavior and want reassurance that friendship truly matters for mental and physical health.

• Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown Helpful if you: want better language for your emotions or feel unsure how to express yourself in close relationships

• The Dance of Connection by Harriet Lerner, Ph.D.Helpful if you: want deeper relationships but also want to maintain boundaries and a strong sense of self.
  
  

Videos & Talks

• TED Talk: Why Friendships Change as We Age by Marisa G. Franco, Ph.D.Helpful if you: notice friendships shifting over time and want to understand how to adapt without self-blame. 

• TED Talk: The Power of Vulnerability by Brené BrownHelpful if you: want to understand how emotional openness builds closeness—without oversharing.  

Podcasts

• Unlocking Us (Brené Brown) Helpful if you: enjoy reflective conversations about emotional health, boundaries, and meaningful connection.

• The Happiness Lab (Dr. Laurie Santos) Helpful if you: like research-based insights presented in an engaging, practical way.

Supporting Your Anxious Child: What Research Suggests Parents Can Do to Help

If you’re parenting an anxious child, you’ve probably asked yourself some version of this question:
Am I helping… or am I making it worse?

I’ve asked it, too—often in the middle of the night, sitting beside my anxious child as worries spill out. School. Friendships. Separation. Sleep. All the endless “what ifs.” Every instinct in me wants to make the fear disappear. I reassure. I explain. I adjust plans. I tiptoe. I problem‑solve.

And sometimes, despite all that love and effort, the anxiety gets louder instead of quieter.

If that sounds familiar, you’re not alone.

As both a family therapist and a parent of an anxious child, I want to say this clearly: your child’s anxiety is not a sign that you’re failing. Supporting an anxious child does not mean eliminating fear. The real work—hard, slow, imperfect work—is helping our children learn that they can live with fear and still move forward.

Decades of research on childhood anxiety point to something that can feel deeply counterintuitive: consistently avoiding fears or accommodating anxiety can actually strengthen it over time. This isn’t because parents are doing anything wrong—it’s because anxiety grows when it’s treated as something too dangerous to face. What helps most is a balance of warmth and confidence:
“I see how hard this feels, and I believe you can handle it.”

Attachment research echoes this idea. Children don’t need parents who remove every obstacle or discomfort. They need a secure base—someone who stays emotionally present while gently encouraging small steps forward. Neuroscience adds another layer: before children can regulate themselves, they borrow our nervous systems. Our calm matters more than our explanations.

What I’m learning, again and again, is that my steadiness matters more than my solutions. When I slow myself down, name what I’m seeing (“This feels really hard right now”), and resist the urge to immediately fix or reassure, something shifts. Not instantly. Not perfectly. But enough. My kids begin to learn that big feelings don’t have to take over the room—and that discomfort can be tolerated and worked through.

This is where many parents get stuck. Reassurance feels kind, and in the moment, it is. But repeated reassurance (“You’ll be fine,” “There’s nothing to worry about,” “I promise nothing bad will happen”) can unintentionally send the message that anxiety is something to escape rather than face. Research‑based approaches, including cognitive behavioral therapy, emphasize helping children gradually approach fears—with support—instead of avoiding them altogether.

That doesn’t mean being cold or dismissive. It means leading with empathy and confidence. It means saying, “I know you’re scared, and I’m right here,” instead of, “Let’s make this go away.” It means helping your child practice being brave, not fearless.

Parenting an anxious child also asks us to look inward. Anxiety is contagious. When our child is distressed, it can stir our own fears: What if this never gets better? What if I’m handling this wrong? That’s human. And it’s why self‑compassion matters so much. You don’t need to be perfectly calm or always know the right thing to say. You just need to be willing to pause, notice, and repair when things go off track.

So if you’re parenting an anxious child and feeling exhausted, unsure, or overwhelmed, please hear this: you don’t have to take the fear away. You’re not supposed to. Your role is to stay close, stay steady, and help your child learn that they can move through hard things with support.

That’s not easy work. But it is meaningful work. And being “good enough” at it—imperfect, learning, trying again—is more than enough.

Resources You Might Find Helpful

1. Helping Your Anxious Child – Rapee & Hudson
   Practical, research‑based strategies for supporting anxiety without feeling like you have to fix everything.

2. Breaking Free of Child Anxiety and OCD – Eli Lebowitz
   A compassionate guide to reducing anxiety‑accommodating habits while staying warm and connected.

3. The Power of Showing Up – Daniel Siegel & Tina Payne Bryson
   Explores how presence, calm, and emotional connection help children feel secure.

4. The Still Face Experiment – Ed Tronick (short video)
   A powerful reminder that repair matters more than perfection.

5. Self‑Compassion – Kristin Neff
   Support for parents learning to be kind to themselves while guiding children through big feelings.

The Ache of Invisible Loss: Processing Ambiguous Grief

We tend to understand grief through a familiar script. There is a death, a funeral, a season of mourning, and a community that gathers with casseroles and condolences. It is a loss with a clear beginning, middle, and end—a defined “before” and “after.”

But what happens when what you lose never technically dies?

What do you do with the hollow ache of a loss that has no finish line, no ceremony, and no socially recognized place to land?

This is ambiguous grief—the emotional experience of losing something or someone without clarity or closure. It is the mourning of what is still present but profoundly changed, or what never came to be at all. The loss is real, even if it is invisible.

Because ambiguous grief lacks clear markers, it often goes unrecognized by others. That invisibility can make the pain feel confusing, isolating, and difficult to process. Naming the loss is often the first step toward healing.

Common Experiences of Ambiguous Grief

When a Relationship Ends (But the Person Is Still Alive)

One of the most common forms of ambiguous grief follows the end of a relationship—divorce, estrangement, friendship breakups, or being “ghosted.” The person still exists in the world, but they no longer exist in your life in the way they once did.

You are not only grieving the person—you are grieving the future you imagined together. It is the grief of seeing someone familiar become emotionally unreachable, a stranger you still recognize.

The Death of a Life Season

Life transitions often bring unacknowledged grief. Moving from single life to partnership, from no children to parenting, changing careers, or watching children leave home can all stir ambiguous loss.

Even positive, planned changes come with the loss of predictability and identity. Missing a former version of your life does not mean you regret the present—it means you are human.

The Versions of Yourself That Never Happened

Sometimes grief lives in the gap between who we hoped we would become and where life actually led us. Career paths shift, goals remain unmet, and the imagined future quietly disappears.

Letting go of a hoped‑for version of yourself is a real loss. Accepting that loss often takes time, compassion, and intentional meaning‑making.

The Person Someone Will Never Be

Perhaps the most painful form of ambiguous grief is recognizing that someone you love will never be able to meet your emotional needs. This often involves parents, partners, or caregivers.

Grieving who someone cannot be—even while they remain physically present—can feel deeply lonely. It is a loss without closure, answers, or repair.

Making Space for Ambiguous Grief

Because ambiguous grief does not involve a clear loss, it is often minimized—by others and by ourselves. Yet the body and nervous system frequently respond just as they would to traditional grief. Rumination, anger, sadness, longing, guilt, and emotional exhaustion are common.

People experiencing ambiguous grief may move through familiar emotional processes—bargaining, anger, sadness, acceptance—but not in a linear way. Unlike traditional grief, ambiguous grief often does not “end.” Instead, it becomes something we learn to carry differently over time.

Healing does not mean finding closure. It means learning to live with uncertainty, honoring what was lost, and allowing grief to coexist with meaning and resilience.

By naming ambiguous grief, we give ourselves permission to seek support, validate our pain, and begin healing—even when the loss cannot be neatly defined.

References for Further Reading

Boss, P. (1999). Ambiguous loss: Learning to live with unresolved grief. Harvard University Press.

Boss, P. (2006). Loss, trauma, and resilience: Therapeutic work with ambiguous loss. W. W. Norton & Company.

Boss, P., & Yeats, J. R. (2014). Ambiguous loss: A complicated type of grief when loved ones disappear. Bereavement Care, 33(2), 63–69.

American Psychological Association. (2022). Ambiguous loss and the myth of closure. Speaking of Psychology Podcast.

Mayo Clinic Health System. (2023). Coping with ambiguous loss.

Neimeyer, R. A., Klass, D., & Dennis, M. R. (2014). A social constructionist account of grief: Loss and the narration of meaning. Death Studies, 38(8), 485–498.

Deposition, Not Damnation

Introduction

Over the course of my career as a private investigator I frequently worked for insurance companies investigating worker’s compensation or disability fraud. I was asked to testify in court but I never had to as the thought of my presence had the defendant in many cases accepting an offer from the insurance company which resulted in the matter being settled. My report did the work for me. I was all set to testify and ready to go.

This time around, I was dealing with the courts as an intern counselor though. I was incredibly nervous concerning this. A part of that was my clinical judgement being under scrutiny for the first time. Despite past related experience, I was nervous. In hindsight, I should not have been. This was in essence something to just be expected. This experience in my internship was exponentially valuable. This prepared me for the challenges ahead in my current position in community mental health. I will discuss the why behind the subpoena first and then discuss lessons learned.

Context

I was subpoenaed due to me being the therapist for an individual who was injured in a major industrial accident which almost cost the client their very life. This industrial accident involved the client’s commercial transport vehicle colliding with a semi-truck. They thankfully survived. They had an intense case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder afterwards. Being caught in anything that reminded of them of that day was a significant trigger... The insurance company that represented the careless and now deceased individual who injured my client argued that since my client made progress in therapy, it was now Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

Again, this was the first time my clinical judgement was under scrutiny in regards to the legal system and it had me nervous. As the day grew closer though, I grew more confident. This was just a deposition, not a damnation. Being subpoenaed was intimidating, turning over my notes was intimidating, but in the end, it turned out fine. A colleague I had at the time thought it was highly intimidating. In his close to fifteen years of practicing he had never been subpoenaed. After it happened, it did not seem intimidating to me at all. The process of getting a subpoena though can knock a person off kilter due to the demanding legal language it uses. The verbs compel and command are hardly as warm as a dinner invitation or an invitation to a seminar for free CEUs in our field.

Subpoena

The subpoena I received came via first class mail. It asked for the entirety of my progress notes while treating this client, and I was ordered to be deposed at a date that would be selected in the coming months. Despite the shock of this to a new counselor, my internship supervisor informed me that she and I should have seen this coming due to the pending litigation. Regardless, it made my internship certainly more interesting and empowering! I never thought I would ever again have any contact with the legal system after having left private investigations. Again, this was a worthwhile process in the end as although as the odds of me testifying in court or being deposed is always possible. I will speak on that later.

Many counselors including former coworkers have told me that they never have had the experience and it scares them. My own therapist informed me that it is not as big of deal as people make it out to be and he informed me that I would do fine with my experience and the fact that I treated this client with a precise treatment plan that was largely based on evidence-based therapies. He informed me that the lawyer of the insurance company would likely not be interested in my testimony as I was an intern at the time. Unfortunately, his inclination of this particular attorney not being interested in my testimony was incorrect. This lawyer, in hindsight was looking for a weak link and as the intern, this litigator suspected I was the weak link by default and in turn there they waged an all-out war on my client and my clinical expertise. I learned much from this experience.

Three Lessons Learned

Here are three lessons learned from this civil deposition that I will cherish throughout my career going forward as these are applicable to all counselors in any kind of setting.

1. Tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth: These are legal proceedings. While a judicial officer is not present, a counselor is still under oath. This proceeding is between you, your client’s lawyer and whoever is representing the opposing party regardless if they are the plaintiff or defendant. Of course, there will be a court reporter, but they will be in the background typing away largely. Telling the truth is nothing new to us though. Our ACA code of ethics informs us that we have a principle of veracity. This has us either answering what is appropriate to answer in a deposition or simply stating “I don’t know.”

2. The client can still be cared for despite the prying eyes of lawyers and the parties, pernicious or otherwise that they represent: In this proceeding the lawyer representing the insurance company asked me a question that had nothing to do with the trauma my client experienced from the accident. It happened to involve something intimate that was not this lawyer’s business nor anyone but my client’s business. I told this attorney that I would not divulge this information. The attorney told me that they could depose me again and get a judge to rule on the matter. I informed her that I would welcome the involvement of a judicial officer. I did this as again nothing was relevant about these intimate matters to the presenting clinical problems of PTSD.

3. The client is still our client during a deposition. There are limits to what the court needs to know, especially an overzealous attorney who does not represent the court as a whole. This is why I asked for the judicial officer’s involvement as I had hope that any rational trier of fact would find that this other information had nothing to do with the client’s diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I also made the comment to this attorney on the record that their questions were inhumane and were attempting to minimize my client’s trauma. The principle of Fidelity from our code of ethics was at play here as I was continuously demonstrating that my notes continued to show that my client still in fact had PTSD, despite making some improvements in therapy.

4. Psychotherapist, protect yourself. The attorney representing the insurance company who was deposing asked if I wanted to sign off on the record right away or reserve my signature. I chose to reserve my signature. While this was a civil proceeding and the court reporter seemed competent, I wanted to review the transcript before I was to sign off on it. It is better to look over what was recorded in the proceedings rather than just accept what they have taken to attempt to preserve accuracy over what was said. I wanted to make sure what I had said was reflected accurately in the record. To me this was a prudent choice.

Application & Conclusion

This deposition was not a horrible experience like I was expecting it to be. The deposition was merely a transition in my career as I went from being just an intern counselor into becoming the real deal that I am today. In the long term, I view this experience as a useful one as it prepared me for work at a community agency where I do many assessments on individuals that are mandated by the court system or by the department of corrections. The number one difference between this civil matter I discussed is that the stakes are highly different regarding to the reasoning behind getting deposed. I am frequently As I continued in my role performing the assessments on these individuals, I know the likelihood of me being deposed is even greater than before.

The next deposition if it should come will likely be in a criminal or family court. Stakes will likely be different rather than just punitive or compensatory damages. Rather, the stakes will be involving liberties and parental rights. The child welfare system in Illinois frequently calls on therapists to provide reports of client progress in relation to progress on the reunification of children with parents.

This experience was a useful one for me as it allows me to share the lessons I learned for others as well as remember these lessons for myself. It is my hope this article shares with you the lessons I learned within this deposition.

Original Source Link: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/deposition-damnation-brandon-c-hovey-ma-lpc-ncc-daqwc/

After Josh and Joseph Duggar: How High‑Control Religious Environments Can Enable Child Sexual Abuse

Trigger Warning:
This article discusses child sexual abuse, institutional betrayal, and abuse within religious contexts. While no graphic details are included, the subject matter may be emotionally activating for survivors of abuse, religious trauma, or spiritual abuse. Readers are encouraged to proceed at their own pace, take breaks as needed, and seek support if distress arises.

If you or someone you know has experienced sexual abuse, confidential support is available through RAINN (800‑656‑HOPE) or local crisis resources.

In recent years, the public has been forced to confront deeply troubling stories involving child sexual abuse within highly visible religious families. The most well‑known is Josh Duggar, a former reality television figure who was convicted in federal court for receiving and possessing child sexual abuse material and sentenced to more than twelve years in prison. Years earlier, multiple women—including several of his sisters—had disclosed that Josh Duggar sexually abused them during adolescence, disclosures that were handled internally within the family’s religious community rather than reported to civil authorities at the time.

More recently, public attention has again turned to the Duggar family following the arrest of Joseph Duggar, Josh Duggar’s younger brother, who has been charged with child sexual abuse offenses related to alleged conduct involving a minor during a family vacation in Florida. According to law‑enforcement statements, the allegations surfaced years after the reported incident following a forensic interview and investigation. At the time of writing, these charges remain allegations and have not yet been adjudicated in court.

The presence of multiple abuse cases within the same highly controlled religious and familial system raises necessary and uncomfortable questions—not only about individual perpetrators, but about the environments in which abuse can be minimized, concealed, or reframed as a moral or spiritual issue rather than treated as a criminal act.

This article is not an attack on religion or religious belief. Many faith communities are deeply protective of children and actively engaged in safeguarding, justice, and healing. However, decades of interdisciplinary research demonstrate that high‑control religious environments—across traditions—can unintentionally create conditions that increase vulnerability to abuse and suppress disclosure when abuse occurs.

Why Repeated Cases Matter Clinically and Sociologically

From a trauma‑informed perspective, patterns matter more than individual scandals. When abuse appears repeatedly within the same family system, community, or belief structure, clinicians and researchers are compelled to examine systemic risk factors, not merely individual pathology.

Large‑scale inquiries into religious institutions across multiple countries have consistently identified dynamics that increase risk, including rigid hierarchies, unquestioned authority, internal handling of abuse allegations, and cultural pressure to protect institutional reputation over child safety. These systems often discourage reporting to secular authorities and frame disclosure as sinful, divisive, or damaging to the faith community.

Authority, Obedience, and Grooming in Religious Contexts

Research by Raine and Kent demonstrates that religious environments can contain unique grooming mechanisms that differ from secular contexts. These include spiritualized authority, reverence for leaders, fear‑based beliefs about punishment or divine consequences, and theological rationalizations that can be exploited to silence children and caregivers alike.

Importantly, this research does not argue that religion causes abuse. Rather, it highlights how unchecked power within obedience‑based systems can be misused when transparency and accountability are absent.

Institutional Betrayal and the Cost of Silence

When children disclose abuse and are met with minimization, secrecy, or spiritual reframing instead of protection, the harm deepens. Psychological literature refers to this phenomenon as institutional betrayal—a secondary trauma that occurs when an institution fails to protect those who depend on it.

Institutional betrayal is associated with increased PTSD symptoms, shame, dissociation, and long‑term difficulty trusting authority figures. Survivors frequently report that the response of the institution—family, church, or community—was as damaging as the abuse itself.

It bears repeating:
Religion does not cause child sexual abuse. Abusers do.

At the same time, religious communities can either increase risk or increase protection. Research shows that faith communities become safer when they embrace mandatory reporting, shared leadership, survivor‑centered theology, and external accountability. Many survivors ultimately reclaim spirituality in healthier, less rigid forms when their experiences are believed and validated.

How Friends and Family Can Support Survivors of Sexual Abuse

For many survivors, the most significant factor in long‑term healing is not the severity of the abuse, but how people responded when they disclosed. Supportive responses are protective; harmful responses compound trauma.

Friends and family do not need perfect words or clinical training. What matters most is belief, presence, and respect for the survivor’s autonomy.

1. Believe Them—Without Qualification

The most powerful response is often the simplest: “I believe you.”
Avoid questioning details, playing devil’s advocate, or seeking certainty. Survivors frequently delay disclosure for years due to fear of disbelief or retaliation.

2. Let the Survivor Set the Pace

Avoid rushing to problem‑solve, confront the perpetrator, or push for legal action. Control was already taken from the survivor once. Healing requires that it be returned.

Support means respecting their timeline—even when it is difficult to understand.

3. Avoid Spiritualizing or Minimizing the Harm

Statements such as “God has a plan,” “Everything happens for a reason,” or “You need to forgive” often increase shame and silence. These responses may unintentionally communicate that the survivor’s pain is inconvenient or spiritually inadequate.

Healing is not accelerated by forced meaning‑making.

4. Listen More Than You Speak

You do not need to fix the pain. Survivors benefit most when loved ones listen without interruption, reflect what they hear, and tolerate their own discomfort without redirecting the conversation.

5. Respect Boundaries—Even When They’re Hard

Survivors may limit contact with family members, leave religious spaces, or change long‑standing relationships. These boundaries are not punishments; they are adaptive survival strategies.

6. Encourage Support—Without Pressure

Professional help can be life‑saving, but it should be offered as an option, not a mandate. Practical support—help finding resources, childcare, or transportation—often matters more than advice.

7. Care for Yourself, Too

Supporting a survivor can stir grief, anger, or helplessness. Seeking your own support is not a betrayal—it strengthens your capacity to show up consistently and without resentment.

Moving Forward: What Protects Children

Research consistently identifies protective factors:

• Mandatory reporting without religious exemption

• Shared leadership and external accountability

• Trauma‑informed training for clergy and volunteers

• Clear safeguarding policies

• Theologies that prioritize human dignity over institutional preservation

When faith communities choose courage over silence, they can become places of genuine safety.

If you our your organization would like information or support around how to respond to child sexual abuse, please reach out to our office.

A Final Word

As a therapist, I sit with adults who were once children silenced by fear, loyalty, or faith‑based shame. Many are not angry at God—they are grieving the protection they were promised and did not receive.

We can honor faith and protect children.
We can respect religion and demand accountability.
And we can listen to survivors without defensiveness.

That is not an attack on religion.
It is an act of moral responsibility.

Reference List

Freyd, J. J. (2018). Institutional betrayal and institutional courage. Journal of Trauma & Dissociation, 19(1), 1–6.

Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse. (2019). Child sexual abuse in the context of religious institutions. https://www.iicsa.org.uk

Lucia, A. (2025). The Religion & Sexual Abuse Project: An introduction. Religion, 55(4), 761–782. https://doi.org/10.1080/0048721X.2025.2538952

Perry, S. (2024). Religious/spiritual abuse, meaning‑making, and posttraumatic growth. Religions, 15(7), 824. https://doi.org/10.3390/rel15070824

Raine, S., & Kent, S. A. (2019). The grooming of children for sexual abuse in religious settings: Unique characteristics and select case studies. Aggression and Violent Behavior, 48, 180–189. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.avb.2019.08.017

Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. (2017). Religious institutions. https://www.childabuseroyalcommission.gov.au

Smith, C. P., & Freyd, J. J. (2014). Institutional betrayal. American Psychologist, 69(6), 575–587. https://doi.org/10.1037/a0037564

🍀 Chasing Leprechauns, Not Perfection: A Mental Health Take on St. Patrick’s Day

St. Patrick’s Day is the one magical day each year when we collectively decide that wearing green is a personality, carbs don’t count, and this might finally be the year we find emotional fulfillment at the bottom of a metaphorical (or literal) pot of gold.

As a therapist, I feel it’s my professional duty to tell you:

✨ The pot of gold is not real.
✨ The leprechaun is probably avoidantly attached.
✨ And perfection is definitely not hiding at the end of the rainbow.

But good news—mental health doesn’t require luck, magic, or a four‑leaf clover. It mostly requires self‑compassion… and occasionally reminding ourselves to drink some water between green beverages.

🍺 The Myth of “Feeling Lucky” (and Other Emotional Pressures)

St. Patrick’s Day has strong “everyone else is thriving but me” energy.

You might notice thoughts like:

“Everyone else looks happier than I feel.”

“Why does it seem like other people have it all figured out?”

“Shouldn’t I be having more fun than this?”

Here’s the truth therapists don’t always put on festive mugs: Happiness is not seasonal, and emotional well‑being doesn’t show up on command.

There’s a lot of pressure—especially on holidays—to feel grateful, joyful, social, and fun. But mental health doesn’t work that way. You can wear green and feel sad. You can celebrate and feel overwhelmed. You can attend the party and leave early because your nervous system has had enough.

That’s not failure. That’s awareness.

🌈 The Real Rainbow: Emotional Growth Isn’t Linear

We love the idea of a neat, colorful arc—storm ends, rainbow appears, lesson learned, cue inspirational quote.

But real mental health progress looks more like: ➡️ Insight → discomfort → growth → doubt → rest → repeat

Healing doesn’t move in straight lines. It loops. It backtracks. It occasionally takes a nap and forgets what it was working on.

If you’re in therapy, you might even catch yourself thinking: “I should be past this by now.”

Let me gently interrupt that thought: “Should” is not a clinical term.

Progress isn’t about never struggling again. It’s about noticing patterns sooner, responding with more compassion, and recovering a little faster each time. That’s the real pot of gold—and yes, it’s less shiny than Instagram promised.

🍀 Comparison Is the Sneakiest Leprechaun of All

Social media on holidays is especially good at convincing us that everyone else is:

• More connected

• More successful

• More relaxed

• More “together”

Comparison thrives when we’re already tired or dysregulated. And the more we scroll, the more our brains start telling very convincing stories that usually end with: “What’s wrong with me?”

Spoiler alert: nothing is wrong with you.

Other people’s highlight reels don’t show:

• Their anxiety before leaving the house

• The argument they had on the way to brunch

• The emotional hangover that hits later

Mental health isn’t about winning at life. It’s about learning how to live it with more honesty and less self‑criticism.

💚 Therapist‑Approved Ways to Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day

If you’re looking for a healthier way to approach today (or any holiday), here are a few options that won’t require luck:

1. Set expectations realistically.
You don’t have to do everything—or anything—just because it’s on the calendar.

2. Notice what your body is asking for.
Connection? Rest? Quiet? A snack? (It’s often a snack.)

3. Give yourself permission to opt out.
Of plans. Of pressure. Of pretending you’re fine.

4. Practice “good enough” joy.
It doesn’t have to be magical to matter.

🍀 The Real Pot of Gold

The real treasure isn’t constant happiness, emotional perfection, or having it all figured out.

It’s learning how to:

• Be kinder to yourself on hard days

• Ask for help without shame

• Set boundaries without over‑explaining

• Let rest be productive

That’s not luck. That’s growth.

So this St. Patrick’s Day, I hope you find moments of ease, a little humor in the chaos, and maybe—even briefly—the reminder that you are already doing better than you think.

And if you’re not? That’s okay too.

Therapy exists for a reason—and none of them involve leprechauns.

🍀 Sláinte to your mental health—today and every day.

The Self‑Care Strategy: Building a Life You Don’t Need to Escape From

Self‑care.
If you’re anything like me, you probably sighed—or rolled your eyes—a little when you read that word.

Over the past few years, self‑care has taken on a life of its own. Social media is flooded with perfectly curated images and ads promoting the latest self‑care trend. Most of them require extra time, extra money, or both—and let’s be honest, who has an abundance of either these days?

Despite its trendy reputation, self‑care is essential to our overall well‑being. The problem is that many of us have been sold a version of self‑care that misses the point entirely. It’s not just pedicures, impulse Amazon purchases, or Netflix binges (though those things absolutely have their place). When self‑care gets reduced to occasional treats instead of intentional care, many people end up stuck in a familiar cycle: pushing through exhaustion, burning out, and wondering why they still feel depleted.

Self‑Care: The What (and the What Not)

So what is self‑care, really?

At its core, self‑care simply means caring for yourself. It’s about meeting your needs consistently, not perfectly. Self‑care can be broken down into a few basic areas: physical, mental, emotional, social, and spiritual. While we all share these categories, what fills them will look different for each person.

I love a good metaphor, so let’s look at self‑care through the lens of caring for a puppy.

• The puppy needs walks and grooming to stay healthy (physical).

• The puppy needs training and challenges to stimulate her mind and build self‑control (mental).

• The puppy needs affection and reassurance that she’s the goodest girl (emotional).

• The puppy needs socialization to learn how to interact with others (social).

Now, what happens if one or two of those needs get ignored?

• Without enough physical activity, the puppy has too much energy and gets into trouble.

• Without mental stimulation, she gets bored and chews things she shouldn’t.

• Without affection, she becomes sad and insecure.

• Without socialization, she struggles with boundaries and relationships.

Sound familiar?

Now Let’s Apply This to You

One of the most common things I hear from people is, “I don’t even know where to start.” That makes sense—our lives are already packed with responsibilities, obligations, and endless to‑do lists.

A helpful place to begin is by creating a Self‑Care Menu. This takes a little upfront effort, but it sets you up for long‑term success.

Start by making a list of activities that fit into each self‑care category (physical, mental, emotional, social, spiritual). Choose things you genuinely enjoy and find life‑giving—not things you feel like you should do.

Next, get realistic about time.

• A walk might take anywhere from 5 to 30+ minutes.

• Many grounding exercises can be done in under 10 minutes.

• Reading, journaling, or working on a puzzle can be flexible.

• Coffee with a friend might take 30–60 minutes.

Once you have your menu, begin weaving these options into your day when small pockets of time appear. Over time, you’ll start to notice which areas need attention and which feel more balanced.

If a puppy has boundless energy, you know she needs a walk. If she won’t stop jumping on the counter, she probably needs some training and structure. The same is true for us. Our stress, irritability, exhaustion, or emotional shutdown are signals—not failures.

The puppy deserves consistent care.
And so do you.

Play Therapy: Common Questions and Answers

Guidance for Parents and Caregivers Supporting Children

If you've read my previous post about Play Therapy, you may still have questions. I support you! It’s completely natural to have questions before your child begins play therapy. Parents often wonder what to expect, how their child will respond, and how they themselves will be involved. Here are some of the most common questions I hear from families:

How long does play therapy take?

Every child is unique. Some children show noticeable changes within a few weeks, while others benefit from ongoing support over several months. Your therapist will check in with you regularly about your child’s progress and goals.

What if my child doesn’t want to go?

It’s common for children to feel unsure at first. Many warm up once they see the playroom and realize it’s a safe, welcoming space. If your child resists, your therapist can work with you on gentle ways to ease the transition.

How do I explain this appointment to my child before their first session?

Keep it simple and positive. You might say, “You’re going to meet someone who has a special room with lots of toys. Their job is to help kids with big feelings by playing together.” Avoid making it sound like a punishment or something to “fix” them: frame it as a safe, supportive place just for them.

Will I be in the room during sessions?

Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It depends on your child’s needs and the therapist’s approach. Younger children may benefit from a parent joining in, while older children often open up more when they have space of their own. Either way, as your child's guardian, you can request updates or parent meetings for updates on your child’s growth and process. 

What if my child just “plays” and doesn’t talk?

That’s completely normal. Play is your child’s way of talking. Play therapists are trained to understand the themes and emotions that come through in play, even if your child isn’t using words.

Is play therapy only for children with big problems?

Not at all. Play therapy can help children with a wide range of challenges; from everyday stress, sibling conflicts, and school anxiety, to coping with loss, divorce, or trauma. Think of it as emotional support and skill-building, not just “fixing problems.”

How will I know if it’s working?

You may notice gradual changes in your child’s mood, behavior, or coping skills. The therapist will also share insights and updates. Sometimes the progress shows up in small ways first; fewer meltdowns, more willingness to try new things, or more positive interactions at home. Every child learns at their own pace.

A Final Word for Parents

Reaching out for support is a powerful step. You don’t need to have everything figured out before you begin. Play therapy gives your child a safe space to heal and grow, and it also gives you tools and guidance along the way. Remember, you and your child are not alone in this journey. Together, and especially with support, growth and healing are possible.

If you’re curious about whether play therapy might be right for your child, research and contact a child therapist in your area. Sometimes starting the conversation can make all the difference.

Recommended Reading for Parents

If you’d like to learn more about play therapy and supporting your child’s emotional growth, here are some excellent resources:

• “Play Therapy: The Art of the Relationship” by Garry L. Landreth A classic guide for understanding the philosophy behind play therapy.

• “Parenting with Play Therapy: A Practical Guide to Nurturing Emotional Well-Being” by Nancy Boyd WebbAccessible, parent-friendly insights.

• “Child-Centered Play Therapy: A Practical Guide to Developing Therapeutic Relationships with Children” by Rise VanFleetHelpful for parents curious about the techniques therapists use.

Short Videos about Play Therapy

If you’re a visual learner, like me, here are some short videos on YouTube that do a great job of outlining play therapy and its benefits:

• Introduction to Play Therapy Therapist Joey Harmon gives a quick overview of child-centered play therapy in the first 3 minutes 

• Play Therapy Works! A succinct video by the Association for Play Therapy introducing what play therapy is and why credentialed therapists matter 

• Play is the Child’s Language: Play Therapy Joanne Wicks describes how play is children’s emotional expression in a brief talk 

• Introducing Andrew A short clip emphasizing that “play is a child’s first language” and how children express inner worlds through play 

Book Review: Burnout by Emily & Amelia Nagoski

Emily and Amelia Nagoski’s Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle is one of the most clinically useful, validating, and culturally honest books I’ve encountered on chronic stress and emotional exhaustion. As a therapist who works daily with clients who feel depleted, overwhelmed, and quietly ashamed for “not handling life better,” I consider this book essential reading—for clients and clinicians alike.

One of the book’s most important contributions is its clear distinction between stressors and stress. Stressors are the external pressures we face—work demands, caregiving, financial strain, societal expectations. Stress, however, is the physiological response that lives in the body, often long after the stressor has passed. Burnout, the Nagoskis argue, is what happens when we repeatedly encounter stressors without completing the biological stress cycle—when the body never fully receives the signal that it is safe to rest and recover.

From a clinical standpoint, this reframing is powerful. Many people believe they should feel better once they “solve the problem,” yet their nervous systems remain stuck in fight‑or‑flight. The book makes clear that dealing with stress is a separate process from solving problems, and that healing requires intentional completion of the stress response through movement, rest, laughter, crying, affection, creativity, and connection—not just insight or productivity.

What truly sets Burnout apart, however, is how directly it addresses culture, not just individual coping. The Nagoskis explicitly name the systems that keep stress cycles perpetually open—particularly for women. Two concepts are especially impactful: Human Giver Syndrome and the Bikini Industrial Complex.

The Bikini Industrial Complex refers to the multibillion‑dollar system that profits from convincing women that their bodies are perpetual problems to be fixed—too big, too small, too old, too much. Through marketing, media, and “wellness” messaging, women are taught to monitor, judge, and discipline their bodies constantly. This ongoing self‑surveillance keeps the nervous system in a chronic state of threat, reinforcing shame, hypervigilance, and exhaustion.

Clinically, I see the effects of this every day. Body dissatisfaction is not a superficial concern—it is a chronic stressor. When someone is at war with their body, true rest becomes nearly impossible. The Nagoskis’ work helps readers understand that struggling to “love your body” in a culture designed to profit from self‑loathing is not a personal failure; it is a predictable response to systemic pressure. Naming the Bikini Industrial Complex gives language to a stressor that many people have internalized but never been taught to question.

Importantly, Burnout does not offer performative positivity or shallow self‑care as solutions. The authors are clear: spa days and bubble baths cannot fix systemic stress. Instead, they emphasize practices that biologically signal safety to the body and challenge the cultural narratives that equate worth with productivity, appearance, or self‑sacrifice. This aligns closely with trauma‑informed and evidence‑based therapeutic approaches that prioritize nervous system regulation and self‑compassion.

The tone of the book is another strength. The Nagoskis write with warmth, humor, and deep empathy. Rather than prescribing rigid rules, they repeatedly return to a core message I often echo in therapy: you are not broken. Burnout is not evidence that you are weak or failing—it is a reasonable response to prolonged stress in an unreasonable environment.

Readers should know that Burnout is written primarily with women in mind and explicitly addresses sexism, emotional labor, and inequity. For some, this will feel deeply affirming; for others, it may feel uncomfortable. From a clinical perspective, that discomfort is meaningful. Burnout does not exist in a vacuum, and ignoring the systems that fuel it only perpetuates shame.

Who I recommend this book for:

• Clients experiencing chronic stress, emotional exhaustion, or body‑based shame

• Clinicians, caregivers, and helpers at risk for compassion fatigue

• Anyone who has tried “doing more” to feel better—and ended up more depleted

Burnout is not about fixing yourself. It is about understanding how your body responds to stress, recognizing the cultural forces that keep you stuck, and learning how to move toward rest, connection, and self‑trust in a sustainable way.