https://www.psychologytoday.com/profile/1192949, https://eastwindtherapy.ca/contact-us/

Eastwind Psychotherapy, 145 Gibson Street, Parry Sound, ON (2026)

08/30/2026

I discovered this beautiful passage over five years ago while reading Louise Erdrich’s The Painted Drum.

At the time, I was still hurting from a failed relationship and wondering if I even wanted to bother opening my heart again. I remember sitting there reading these words and suddenly feeling tears rolling down my cheeks:

“You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart.”

Five years later, these words still stay with me. Maybe because I know something now that I didn’t know then: Protecting yourself from being hurt again can also mean protecting yourself from being deeply loved, connected and alive.

I hear versions of this in my work with clients after heartbreak all the time.

“I don’t think I can ever trust someone again.”

“I’m never going to let myself be that vulnerable again.”

“I’m better off on my own.”

And I get it. When someone has hurt us deeply, being alone can feel safer. Our nervous system learns to protect us. We become more cautious. We scan for the next disappointment. We keep one foot out the door.

But healing isn’t about becoming so self-sufficient that nobody can ever hurt us again. It’s about learning that I can love someone deeply and still belong to myself.

I can have boundaries without building walls.

I can be vulnerable without abandoning myself.

I can experience heartbreak without deciding that love itself was the mistake.

Because the truth is, life will break our hearts.

Relationships end.
People leave.
People disappoint us.
We lose people we love.
Sometimes life simply doesn’t turn out the way we thought it would.

And still, there are apples falling all around us.

There is laughter.
There is friendship.
There is beauty.
There are unexpected beginnings.
There are moments of sweetness we couldn’t have imagined while we were sitting in the middle of our grief.

So perhaps self-care isn’t always about protecting ourselves from pain. Maybe sometimes it’s about making sure our fear of pain doesn’t keep us from tasting the sweetness that’s still here.

As many apples as we can.

08/23/2026

What if feeling guilty while you’re resting doesn’t mean you’re doing self-care wrong?

I just finished a week of vacation.

I didn’t go anywhere.
I didn’t accomplish much.
I didn’t “make the most of it.”

And I noticed some guilt.

A little voice telling me I should be doing something useful. Catching up. Getting ahead. Being productive.

Which got me thinking about how strange our relationship with rest can be.

We can be completely exhausted and desperately need a break… and then feel guilty when we actually take one.

Sometimes we’ve learned to measure our worth by how much we accomplish, how much we contribute, or how available we are to other people.

So when we stop, it can feel less like self-care and more like we're somehow failing.

Maybe the uncomfortable part isn't the rest. Maybe it's what the rest brings up.

And perhaps we don't always need to fix that guilt. Maybe we can notice it.

“Ah. There’s that voice telling me I should be doing more.”

And then choose to rest anyway.

This week, I'm reminding myself that a vacation doesn't have to be productive to be worthwhile.

And neither does a Sunday.

Do you find it easy to rest without feeling guilty? Or does your brain immediately start making a to-do list?

I'm genuinely curious about this one.

08/16/2026

Sometimes self-care is just… picking up rocks.

These are my Newfoundland worry stones. I picked them up while walking the beach in Rocky Harbour on my recent trip to Newfoundland, and honestly, I think I could have spent the entire day doing it.

There was something almost meditative about looking for them.

Walking slowly.
Feeling the warm sun on my skin.
Listening to the ocean.
Breathing in salty air.
Running my fingers over stone after stone, noticing the differences in texture, size, shape and colour.

Some were perfectly smooth. Some were rougher. Some were tiny. Some were surprisingly heavy for their size.

And when I found one that felt just right, I put it in my pocket.

No app.
No guided meditation.
No special equipment.

Just nature, my senses and a few minutes of being completely present.

And can we talk about Newfoundland for a minute? Because on this lovely island, random individuals call me “m’ love.” At the grocery store. In a restaurant. Walking around town.

“M’ love.”

I’m wondering why the rest of Canada hasn’t adopted this practice yet. Because I have to say, being casually called “m’ love” by a complete stranger does something good for the nervous system.

Anyway… back to the rocks. I brought some of these little worry stones home, and they’re here in my office for the taking.

You can:

- Hold one during a difficult conversation or therapy session.
- Rub your thumb over the smooth surface when you feel anxious or activated.
- Keep one in your pocket as a small reminder to come back to the present.
- Hold it while taking slow breaths, noticing the weight and warmth of the stone as you breathe.
- Use it as a sensory anchor when your thoughts are racing: What does it feel like? Is it cool or warm? Smooth or textured? Heavy or light?
- Keep one beside your bed, on your desk or somewhere you tend to need a little grounding.

There’s nothing magical about the stone itself. The magic, if there is any, is in slowing down enough to notice.

Notice the texture.
Notice your breath.
Notice your body.
Notice what’s around you.
Come back to right now.

Sometimes self-care doesn’t have to be another thing we add to our already-too-long list.

Sometimes it’s just standing on a beach in the sunshine, listening to the ocean, picking up rocks.

And sometimes…

it’s being called m’ love. 🤍

08/09/2026

In the last few weeks, I’ve been sharing how parenting and our intimate relationships have a way of introducing us to the younger parts of ourselves.

The part that wonders, “Am I important?”
The part that hears, “You’re a burden.”
The part that feels a little panic when a date is forgotten and briefly wonders, “Do I matter?”

Those parts don’t need to be shamed, silenced, or “fixed.” What they need is an adult version of me to notice. To pause. And to say:

“I know this feeling. I know where you come from. But I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

This is something I’m still practicing.

Because sometimes my first instinct is to make my partner or my adult child to prove that younger part wrong… instead of tending to it myself. (Anyone else? 🙋‍♀️)

A few ways we can care for those younger parts:

✨ Notice the feeling before reacting to the story.

✨ Offer yourself the reassurance you’re hoping someone else will give you.

✨ Share your vulnerability without making the other person responsible for healing your wounds.

✨ Approach yourself with curiosity instead of criticism.

Healing doesn’t mean those younger parts disappear. It means they don’t have to run the relationship anymore.

I’m curious as to how you tend to the younger parts of yourself when they show up. Feel free to share in the comments.

08/02/2026

Have I ever told you one of my least favourite relationship sayings?

“If they really loved you, they would never…”

Never disappoint you.
Never trigger you.
Never forget.
Never let you down.

It sounds romantic, but it’s also a great way to stay disappointed.

Because the truth I’m learning both personally and through my work is that my partner isn’t just in a relationship with me. He’s also in a relationship with the younger parts of me that still show up when life gets hard.

The little girl who worries she’s too much. The teenager who learned to stay quiet to keep the peace. The young woman who worked overtime to earn love instead of receiving it.

And sometimes my present-day partner will say something completely reasonable and my adaptive child hears: “You’re a burden.”

Or he’ll forget an important date and a younger part of me wonders if I’m not that important.

None of that is actually about today.

It’s yesterday wearing today’s clothes.

One of the things I appreciate about Relational Life Therapy is Terry Real’s reminder that our relationship can become the place where we grow and heal. Not because our partner never disappoints us, but because disappointment becomes an invitation instead of evidence.

An invitation to ask:

“How much of this belongs to this moment and how much belongs to a younger version of me hoping someone will finally rewrite an old story?”

And yes, our partners still need to own their behaviour. Repair matters. Accountability matters. Respect matters.

But healing isn’t finding someone who never lets us down. It’s learning to care for the parts of ourselves that disappointment awakens.

Maybe our partner’s greatest gift isn’t protecting us from every painful moment. Maybe it’s loving us while we learn to comfort the younger parts of ourselves that still need reassurance.

(Although I’d really appreciate it if my partner could provide fewer “growth opportunities.” 😉)

Anyone else finding their relationship doubles as an intensive personal development program?

07/26/2026

Can I admit something?

Nobody warned me that parenting would involve so many conversations with someone who isn’t even in the room…

Not just my children.

My younger self.

Every Sunday, I try to do something for her.

Not because she’s stuck in the past, but because she still deserves to feel safe, rested, joyful, and cared for.

The longer I’m a parent, the more I realize my kids aren’t just growing me up; they’re introducing me to parts of myself I didn’t even know were still hurting.

Sometimes I want to fix their disappointment a little too quickly.

Sometimes I catch myself wanting to make the hard feeling disappear, not just for them, but because it’s uncomfortable for me too.

And that’s been one of parenting’s greatest teachers.

Maybe our job isn’t to raise children who never struggle.

Maybe it’s to raise children who learn, through every hard moment, that struggling never means there’s something wrong with them.

Because our kids aren’t here to make us look like good parents.

They’re here to become fully themselves.

And maybe our work is becoming more fully ourselves right alongside them.

Happy Self-Care Sunday. ❤️ Be gentle with your little humans… and with the one inside you that’s still learning, too.

07/23/2026

WE HAVE STICKERS!!

Don’t forget to grab an Eastwind Psychotherapy sticker the next time you’re in. Because let’s be honest … going to therapy is freaking cool. 😎💙

And if I only see you virtually (or you’re just a fan… looking at you, Mudder and Fadder 😂), send me a DM! I’ll happily pop a sticker or five into the mail just for you.

Because normalizing therapy deserves to be stuck on water bottles, laptops, notebooks … wherever you want the world to know that taking care of your mental health is something to be proud of. 💙

07/19/2026

Reading this quote stopped me in my tracks this week:

“As a single mom I realized I wasn’t ‘bad with money.’ I was covering with one income what was meant to be covered by two.”

It landed hard.

When my children were 10 and 12, I became a single mom.

One government salary.
A mortgage.
A global pandemic.
A child with a serious illness that required me to step away from work on caregiver leave.
A career change.
Graduate school.

For a long time, I quietly carried a story that maybe I just wasn’t doing enough.

Maybe I wasn’t budgeting well enough.
Working hard enough.
Planning well enough.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe…

Sometimes the problem isn’t you.

Sometimes you’re carrying the weight of circumstances that would challenge almost anyone.

We live in a culture that loves to tell us that success is simply a matter of discipline, hustle, and “better choices.” It makes for a nice motivational quote.

It also ignores divorce.
Illness.
Caregiving.
Inflation.
Job loss.
Systemic barriers.
Bad luck.

And all the invisible labour so many people carry every single day.

So if you’re driving the used car…
If your vacation photos aren’t from Europe…
If you’re saying “no” to things because the money just isn’t there…
If you’re wondering why everyone else seems to be getting ahead…

Can I gently offer this?

Your bank account is not a character reference.

Your used car is not a measure of your worth.

Your financial stress is not proof that you’ve failed.

Comparison has a way of turning difficult seasons into shame.

Self-care this week might be refusing to measure your life against someone else’s highlight reel.

Maybe it’s noticing everything you’ve survived.

Maybe it’s giving yourself credit for the fact that you are still showing up.

I’d love to know what story about money or success are you trying to let go of?

07/14/2026

When you walk your last clients of the day out and find a sweet treat in your mailbox from a wonderful friend and colleague, you know you’re seen. So grateful for my support network. Thank you, Beautiful! ☺️❤️

07/12/2026

Self-Care Sunday: When Imposter Syndrome Comes Knocking…

This week, it knocked pretty loudly.

I had two different couples I had been working with not book another session after what felt like challenging conversations. My brain immediately filled in the blanks.

“You’re not good at couples therapy.”
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Maybe you’re not cut out for this.”

If you’ve ever experienced imposter syndrome, you know it rarely whispers. It shouts.

Imposter syndrome is the persistent belief that you’re not as competent as others think you are; that your successes are luck, and eventually someone will discover you don’t belong.

What made this week particularly difficult wasn’t that two couples didn’t rebook. It was the meaning I attached to it.

I linked my performance to my worth.

And that is always dangerous.

As therapists, we often remind clients that we can’t control other people’s choices, only how we show up. This week I had to take my own advice. I had to separate outcomes from identity, curiosity from self-judgment, and compassion from criticism.

I’ve also had Brené Brown in my ear all week, listening to her audiobooks on long drives. Her work on shame was exactly what I needed. Shame tells us, “I am the problem.” Healthy reflection asks, “What can I learn?”

Those are two very different conversations.

Self-care isn’t always a massage, a bubble bath, or a day off. Sometimes self-care is noticing the shame spiral before it takes over. It’s reaching out to trusted colleagues. It’s allowing yourself to be human while remaining committed to growth.

The irony isn’t lost on me that the very thing I encourage my clients to do every day was exactly what I needed to practice myself this week.

So this Self-Care Sunday, I’m curious…

Where does imposter syndrome show up in your life?

At work? Parenting? Leadership? Relationships? Starting something new?

I’d love to hear how you notice it, and what helps you come back to yourself.

Eastwind Psychotherapy

08/30/2026

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