When people find out I’m a therapist, they often imagine calm. Someone endlessly patient, grounded, and perfectly organised. I sometimes wish they could see the inside of my head instead, the lists that multiply, the tabs that stay open, the way I can forget what I walked into a room for while remembering every detail of something a client said…

Modern dating has its own dictionary now, a whole language of shorthand for feelings we can’t quite name. The ick. The spark. The slow burn. Each one is supposed to mean something clear about attraction or compatibility. But human connection is rarely that simple. I think about how much of our idea of love has been sold to us, through…

I’ve always hated exercise. Not the movement itself, but everything around it — how it’s sold to us, what it’s supposed to mean. For most of my life, exercise was tangled up with shame and “shoulds.” It was about fixing, burning, earning, or proving. The endless messages about how we should look, move, or measure up had already stripped away…