Tag: self-awareness

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Auto-thoughts

Candy Was My First Coping Strategy

A Treat, a Ritual, a Constant

Candy was there from the beginning. Not just the kind from holidays or birthday parties. When I was young, my friends and I would walk the five blocks to the corner store, almost like a mini adventure — to flip through magazines, pick out candy, maybe grab a bag of chips. It felt like a choice, a treat, a moment. Now it’s everywhere. Lining the checkout lane. Disguised in Starbuck’s caramel drizzle. Waiting for you while you pump gas or buy groceries — always within reach, always promising a little lift. The kind we all rely on, often, to soften the edges of a life that can feel overwhelming. The kind I could buy with my own money. The kind that, for decades, got me through.

Sweetness That Shaped Me

Over the decades, it followed me — through childhood, through a few different fast-paced jobs in New York where candy was how I kept going, through a traumatic brain injury, and even into my own therapy practice, where I once used candy as a behavioral reinforcer for my youngest clients… and as a quiet reinforcer for myself, too. It was the most consistent tool I had: energy, pleasure, comfort, numbing — all packed into a colorful wrapper.

I used to think fruit was a second-rate substitute — nature’s humble offering next to the gold-wrapped brilliance of a Ferrero Rocher. Candy felt like something you chose; fruit was something you were supposed to eat. I didn’t realize then that my body was already adapting to a world where sweetness had to be bought, packaged, and unwrapped to feel real.

I Thought It Was Just Me

Only now — years after a Melanoma diagnosis, and the catalyst for a long slow return to myself — do I see that the candy wasn’t just a treat. It was part of the pattern. It shaped my blood chemistry, my energy swings, my mood loops. It sharpened the edges of my OCD-like thinking, giving me short bursts of relief followed by deeper crashes.

The crash was always there, but like most of us, I didn’t see it. I thought I was just moody. Just tired. Just “not myself.” I hadn’t always thought to trace it back to the sugar. We’re so conditioned to live in the spike — the rush of a quick fix — that the crash feels like normal. The exhaustion, the looping thoughts, the urgency to fix something — I thought that was my personality. But in hindsight, it was my chemistry.

Who I Thought I Was

I remember a boyfriend once told me I was moody, and I was genuinely surprised. I didn’t see myself that way. But of course I didn’t — I was living inside a body that had been run on candy and processed foods since childhood. That version of me felt like me. I didn’t have a “before.” I had rejected jarred vegetables as a baby, craved sweetness early, and found ways to get it on my own by the time I could walk to the corner store. Sweetness wasn’t a treat. It was a throughline. It shaped my taste buds, my nervous system, and maybe even my personality.

A Quieter Brain, A Calmer Loop

It’s only now, after a year of eating a whole food, plant-based, no-oil diet that I’m starting to meet a different version of myself. One who loops less often. One who can break the cycle faster. One who catches her breath sooner. My lipid profile is changing. My sleep is more deep and restorative. I no longer eat processed food — at all — and the sugar-fueled crashes that once defined my rhythms? They’re so distant now, I almost have to go looking to remember what they felt like. And, thankfully, the cravings are a thing of the past.

Not Just in My Head

What’s striking is that I didn’t change my eating to “treat OCD” or “cure anxiety.” I changed it to protect my brain — long-term — after a moderate TBI and cancer diagnosis. But the changes are showing up in my emotional landscape, too. Less internal noise. Fewer internal negotiations. More space to not manage everything. That’s new for me.

And this is what I wish someone had told me: that obsessive looping — especially the kind that hides in people-pleasing, guilt, and relentless self-monitoring — isn’t just psychological. It’s metabolic. It’s neurological. I wasn’t compulsively cleaning or checking doors. I was mentally tracking every word, gesture, and interaction, trying to stay good, stay safe, stay liked. And sugar, for much of my life, was part of the fuel that kept that loop in motion.

A Culture That Keeps Us Hooked

We live in a culture that hands us sugar (and caffeine) instead of rest. Cake for celebration. Candy as a form connection. It’s handed out at schools, at offices, in therapy rooms. It’s considered harmless, even fun. But for me — and maybe for you — it was fuel for the very loop I was trying to escape.

Maybe It Was Never You

I’m not writing this to villainize sugar. I’m writing it because I want to say something no one ever said to me:

If you’ve been stuck in looping thoughts, in control-seeking, in managing everyone’s reactions — maybe it’s not a character flaw. Maybe it’s a chemistry loop that’s finally ready to unwind.

I’m not all the way there. But I no longer believe that “there” has to come through force, willpower, or therapeutic contortions. Sometimes, it starts by clearing the crash, quieting the spike, and feeding the body in a way that makes clarity possible again.

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Course Episodes GO Tools

GO: The First Tool for Rewriting Your Story

Graphic design of letter blocks spelling “How To Do It” surrounded by circular icons labeled The Elements
A simple reminder: You already know how to do it—your intuition just needs room to speak.

Before we change anything in our lives, we have to learn how to see. That’s why the first step in The Healing Elements is noticing. We start by observing the patterns—those repeated thoughts, deeply held beliefs, and emotional states that shape what we expect from the world. Most of us don’t even realize we’re running old scripts until we feel stuck, disconnected, or overwhelmed.

Once we notice, we can begin to work with those patterns directly.

That’s where the first tool comes in: GO.

What Is GO?

GO stands for Generate Opposite. It’s simple, but not simplistic. And it’s often the key to real movement—the kind that feels like forward motion after a long time of circling the same emotional terrain.

Here’s how it works:
Take a recurring thought or belief that feels limiting or painful. Write it down. Then write its opposite. And for the next few days, speak the new thought as if it were already true.

Let’s say the original thought is, “I don’t deserve to be happy.”
Your opposite might be: “I deserve happiness.” Or even: “My joy is natural and safe.”

The goal isn’t to wallpaper over something difficult. The goal is to offer your mind and body a new emotional posture—one you can begin to inhabit through language, imagination, and presence.

Sometimes we think affirmations are silly because they don’t match our current reality. But what if they’re not meant to match it? What if they’re meant to reshape it?

You Can Start with Emotion, Too

GO works with emotion as well as thought.

If you’re feeling anxious, try to generate an experience of calm or safety. That might mean stepping outside, talking to someone you trust, or engaging in something that brings joy or inspiration.

A new thought is powerful. But a new feeling—especially one you create on purpose—is transformative.

Two Loud Teachers

My first real encounter with GO didn’t look like a self-help moment. It looked like two screaming goats.

Leo and Orion arrived with tiny voices and cherubic faces. But as they grew, their vocal cords matured into something else entirely. Let’s just say their bleating could pierce through walls—and often did.

Their cries always escalated when I was immersed in something quiet: writing, reflecting, or planning.

My first internal reaction?
“Shut up.”

And that was the thought I wrote down.

Then I asked: What’s the opposite?

“Speak up.”

It startled me. I hadn’t realized how much of my life had been spent managing silence—keeping things in, playing small, avoiding conflict. Behind that two-word outburst was a much deeper belief: “It’s not safe to be fully seen.”

That’s the one I rewrote next:
“It’s safe to be real.”
“My voice is welcome.”

I didn’t believe these yet. That’s not required. But I spoke them anyway. Wrote them down. Lingered with them.

And over time, I began to notice when I did feel safe, when my voice was heard, when something in me settled instead of bracing.

The Story Beneath the Story

GO helped me recognize how my external world was echoing back my internal state.

Even my melanoma diagnosis showed up with a kind of message: stop disappearing.

I don’t think I “manifested” illness on purpose. But I do believe my soul was asking for something different. It was trying to reroute my attention—not just to my health, but to my life.

There are patterns that want to be undone. GO helps loosen them. It offers an experimental framework: What if the opposite were true? What if you lived into it just a little?

A Few Helpful Affirmations

Of course, it’s not magic. But sometimes it feels like it.

Here are a few affirmations I worked with during a time when I needed a new story:

  • I know who I am.
  • I love myself.
  • I matter.
  • I feel connection.
  • I am deserving.
  • I am lighthearted.
  • Life is magic.

Some were the direct opposite of an old belief. Others were simply the emotional tone I wanted to amplify. Either way, repeating them gave me a sense of spaciousness—like my mind could stretch a little wider.

Try It for Yourself

So here’s what I invite you to do:

  1. Choose a thought or belief that feels limiting or painful.
  2. Write its opposite.
  3. Say it out loud, as if it were already true.
  4. Try writing the opposite emotion, too—what you want to feel instead. Let it sit alongside the new thought.

You don’t have to do anything else right now. Just begin with the act of generating the opposite.

There are many ways to expand from here—imagining the opposite vividly, play-acting it in daily life, or looking for evidence that it’s already starting to take shape. But we’ll get to those in other posts.

For now, just GO. Let the opposite idea exist. Speak it. Let it change the shape of your thoughts.

This is how stories begin to shift—word by word.


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Course Episodes Inner Terrain Markers Practices

What You Notice

What You Notice

Gently recognizing the terrain you’ve inherited

Before anything can grow, we have to see what’s already there. The inner garden many of us tend isn’t just ours. It’s shaped by family patterns, cultural scripts, painful experiences, and unspoken rules. Most of this terrain forms long before we know how to name it. But once we begin to notice, we gain the power to choose what to keep, what to compost, and what to plant with care.

This is about noticing the current reality—what’s truly happening now—not the world we wish existed, or the one we think others should create for us. Even when society, culture, or the people around us don’t seem to be changing, we can begin the work of tending our own ground. Instead of waiting for external systems to shift, we start with what’s already growing inside us. That’s where real change takes root.

What You Repeat

You may find yourself thinking the same thought, again and again. These are auto-thoughts—quick, sharp, and often harsh. They don’t ask permission. They sound like:

What’s wrong with me?
I’m being lied to!
Things are good now, but the other shoe will drop.
No one really wants me around.
I said too much.

They crop up without effort. You didn’t choose them—they were given to you, planted by repeated experience.

One person I’ve worked with remembered feeling unsafe when they were lighthearted. A parent would shut down or criticize their joy. As an adult, they found themselves tensing when laughing too freely, as if joy itself were risky. The moment didn’t come with clear words—more often, it arrived as a sudden jolt of anxiety or the sense of being watched or judged. The body remembered before the mind did.

Another noticed how a simple moment—a cold glance from a cashier—could reopen the old wound of helplessness. Their thought: “I’m in danger.” It wasn’t rational, but it was familiar.

What You Believe

Beneath every repeating thought is a belief: a quiet rule about how the world works. Helplessness means I’m broken. People are dishonest—I’ll always be let down. All joy comes at a cost. I’m unlovable. To stay safe, I must tone myself down. 

These beliefs often go unquestioned. They’re old. And they create consequences—especially when we don’t notice or challenge them.

What You Feel

When thoughts and beliefs go unexamined, they shape the emotional climate of our lives. You might feel wary, lonely, shut down, or small. You might feel frustrated and confused—longing to connect, but unable to risk vulnerability. These emotional markers are not flaws. They’re signals. They tell you where your garden needs tending.

In one case, a person noticed that sadness and powerlessness would surge whenever they saw friends making plans without them. The feeling wasn’t just loneliness—it was shame. A sense that they were fundamentally unlikeable or unworthy of connection. As they looked closer, they began to see that this emotion was tied to an old belief: I’m not someone people want to be close to. That belief had taken root early, and silence had become a way to cope. But now, that same silence was feeding the belief and reinforcing the isolation it was meant to avoid.

What You Absorbed

Much of what we carry wasn’t said outright. It was shown. Implied. Lived. Some grew up in households where appearances mattered more than truth. Or where emotional honesty was shut down—or met with silence, sarcasm, or discomfort. Others learned that they could be accepted only if they agreed to rules they didn’t make. Still others were left to make sense of rejection, betrayal, or inconsistency, and found safety in withdrawal or perfectionism.

What we absorb isn’t our fault. But it becomes our soil—until we change it.

What You’ve Produced

These inner patterns shape your outer life. You may notice chronic loneliness, burnout, people-pleasing, emotional flatness, or a deep sense of mistrust. This is not failure. It’s simply the result of what’s been growing. The question is: Do you want to keep growing it?

These are the weeds and seeds already in your garden. You don’t need to name them all. But when you start to see them—clearly, gently, and without judgment—you create space for something new to grow.

You don’t need a fancy system. Just a few quiet minutes, now and then, to check the terrain. You might notice:

  • The Top Layer – What’s rising up today?
  • What You Repeat – What thought keeps circling?
  • What You Believe – What belief might be underneath?
  • What You Feel – What emotions are showing up?
  • What You Absorb (or did, previously) – Where might this have come from?
  • What You Produce – How is this shaping your day? Your life?

Then take a moment to name the opposites—just enough to offer yourself a different path:

  • A new thought you’d like to grow
  • A belief that supports healing or possibility
  • An emotion you’d love to feel instead

And finally, choose a tool. This part matters.
Pick one small way to nourish something new:

  • Will you Leap and try acting from the new belief?
  • Will you GO and generate the opposite of what keeps circling?
  • Will you Imagine something gentler? Bigger?
  • Will you return HOme (to a Higher Order of wisdom) and ask for help?

You don’t have to fix it all today. Just noticing is enough to shift the soil.

I’d love to hear what this brought up for you.
Would you be willing to name one or two auto-thoughts, beliefs, or emotions you noticed as you read? You can share them using the message button below.

 

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Categories
Course Episodes Practices

What You Can Grow

What You Can Grow

Nurturing new patterns with small, steady care

You’ve started noticing what’s already growing in your inner garden—the thoughts that keep circling, the beliefs that tighten around your choices, the emotions that come and go like weather. You’re seeing the terrain. That alone is a powerful shift.

Now it’s time to tend it.

You don’t need to overhaul everything or force a sudden transformation. In fact, the most lasting change usually starts with small, honest movements: planting a different thought. Trusting a new feeling. Letting one old belief soften around the edges. This isn’t about self-improvement. It’s about self-relationship.

Amend the soil

You begin by changing the conditions around your thoughts. You imagine the possibility that your inner world can support something gentler, more nourishing. When a belief shows up that once kept you safe but now keeps you small, you meet it with curiosity. You ask: What else might be true? What would I love to grow here instead?

These aren’t questions for your best days. They’re for the moments when it all feels a little hard. When your first instinct is to withdraw, apologize, or disappear. That’s when the soil is most ready for something new.

Choose a tool that matches the season

You don’t have to use every method, every time. This is a garden, not a lab.

Sometimes you Leap: you act as if a new belief is already true. You walk a little taller. You reach out, even when you feel unsure. You play the role of someone who trusts herself—just enough to see what happens.

Sometimes you go HOme: you pause, breathe, and ask for a little help from something bigger. You listen inwardly for direction, like a root listening for water.

Sometimes you Imagine: not as fantasy, but as rehearsal. You picture yourself responding differently. You feel the new pattern as if it’s already part of you.

Sometimes you GO (Generate the Opposite): you catch yourself in a painful loop and plant a counter-thought. Not to argue, but to balance, or even just to see how it feels. To give yourself another path forward.

Each tool is a way of softening the soil around something that wants to grow. Each one—and others—will be explored more deeply in future posts, so you can find what works for you.

Follow signs of life

You don’t need proof before you plant. You need practice.

You might notice that when you affirm your safety, your breathing slows. When you remember your strength, you feel a little taller. When you name your truth, your voice steadies. These are signs that something inside you is shifting—not because you’re forcing it, but because you’re creating the right conditions.

Tend without pressure

There will be dry days. There will be weeds again. That’s part of the rhythm.

This isn’t about perfection. It’s about contact. Each time you check in, each time you choose a gentler belief, each time you trust your own rhythm—you strengthen your root system.

You don’t have to get it right. You just have to return.

And over time, you’ll notice something beautiful: the garden starts to feel more like home.

To support this, you can return to the daily noticing practice outlined in What You Notice —a way of naming what’s present without judgment, and opening the door to something new.

Then take a moment to name the opposites—just enough to offer yourself a different path:

  • A new thought you’d like to grow
  • A belief that supports healing or possibility
  • An emotion you’d love to feel instead

And finally, choose a tool. This part matters.
Pick one small way to nourish something new:

  • Will you Leap and try acting from the new belief?
  • Will you GO and generate the opposite?
  • Will you Imagine something gentler?
  • Will you return HOme and ask for help?

This is how you change what isn’t working. It’s like giving water to a dried-out plant. It doesn’t have to be dramatic—just intentional.

Put it on your calendar if you like. Return later. Play with it. You’re not trying to fix yourself—you’re learning to care for your garden.

Categories
Family Markers

Family: Where the Stories Begin

Family—whether it’s the one we’re born into, the workplace “family” we join, or the media we unconsciously absorb—plants the thoughts, beliefs, and emotions that shape the course of our lives.

In the Elements framework, Family is a marker, one of the core influences shaping our inner narrative. And it’s a big one.

We tend to think of family narrowly: parents, siblings, and maybe a quirky uncle. But in truth, family is any group that gives us structure, belonging, and a sense of identity—or at least tries to. School families, church families, work families, recovery families, even TV families. Wherever there’s a powerful bond or strong shaping influence, that’s a kind of family.

These families transmit BABEs—Blooming Auto-thoughts, Beliefs, and Emotions—whether we’re aware of it or not. Sometimes this transfer is conscious and clear. Other times, it’s buried. Either way, what’s passed along can create the very Consequences (the outer experiences) we later find ourselves needing to heal or rewrite.

As a marriage and family therapist, I’ve learned to look at people in context. No one exists in isolation. We are shaped by the people around us—and in many cases, by the need to fit in, be loved, or avoid conflict. Family systems are deeply complex, often too knotted to untangle without a bit of outside perspective. And while they can offer safety, they can also ask us to contort ourselves in order to stay included.

We start off whole—just like Leo and Orion, my goats, before they learned to love their new home. But as we grow, many of us try to become what our families want. When being fully ourselves isn’t safe, we shape-shift. We conform. We take on a slant—a point of view—that prioritizes someone else’s comfort over our own truth.

Eventually, that slant becomes the lens through which we see the world.

It’s how home becomes a prison.

Turning Point: Reframing the Stories

And yet… this isn’t the end of the story.

If slant can form unconsciously, it can also be reframed with awareness. We can use the Elements—Tools like Dig, Go, HOme, JI, and Imagine—to uncover the old family messages, soften them with compassion, and begin to rewrite what we’ve internalized.

Even if you come from a loving family (and many of us do, in some ways), the messages passed down may still be mismatched to your unique self. Even the most well-intended parent can pass along fear, control, or outdated beliefs. Most do. Most of us do, too.

My own experience? I learned early that love had to be earned—and that to earn it, I’d need to work very, very hard. That pattern extended far beyond my family of origin. It followed me into almost every environment that felt like “family”—school, work, even friendships.

Those environments shaped my BABEs. And until I recognized the slant they created, I stayed inside their walls, wondering where the real me had gone.

So here’s the invitation:

Start noticing your own inherited stories.
Who planted them?
Do they still serve you?
Were they ever really yours?

Family is where the stories begin. But they don’t have to end there.

Auto-Thoughts

Quick, automatic thoughts that pop up in daily life—often shaped by old beliefs and past experiences.