When Did You Stop Feeling Like Yourself?
There's a particular kind of pain that doesn't always have a name.
It's not a crisis. It's not falling apart. From the outside, things might even look pretty good — you're showing up, managing your responsibilities, doing what needs to be done. But somewhere underneath all of that, something feels off.
Maybe you've found yourself wondering when life started feeling like something you're just getting through. Or you've noticed a quiet distance between who you are on the outside and what you actually feel on the inside. Like you're performing a version of yourself rather than actually living as yourself.
That feeling — of being disconnected from your own authentic self — is something I hear about a lot. And it makes sense that it would develop. Most of us learned early on how to adapt. We took on roles, patterns, and ways of being that helped us feel safe, get through hard moments, or earn the connection we needed. Those adaptations were smart. They worked.
But they can also leave us feeling like strangers to ourselves.
What this often looks like
Sometimes it shows up as burnout — not the kind where you simply need a vacation, but the kind that lives underneath the surface. You might still care deeply about your work and the people in your life. You might still be doing all the things. But you're running on empty in a way that rest doesn't seem to fix, because the exhaustion isn't just about output. It's about the cost of constantly pushing through, of not knowing how to slow down, of a nervous system that has been in go-mode for so long that stillness feels wrong.
Sometimes it shows up as anxiety that doesn't quite respond to the things that are supposed to help. Or a sense that you've lost the thread of who you are, especially during times of transition — a new job, a relationship ending, a milestone that should feel exciting but mostly just feels disorienting.
For neurodivergent folks, it can look like years of trying to fit into a world that wasn't designed for how your brain works — masking, adapting, overcompensating — until the gap between who you are and who you've had to perform becomes exhausting.
What I believe about this
I don't think the patterns that brought you here are problems to be fixed. I think they make sense. They developed for a reason — usually to protect you — and they deserve to be understood, not just managed or eliminated.
The approaches I use, EMDR and IFS, both start from that same place. Neither one is about what's wrong with you. They're about understanding what happened, what your system learned from it, and creating the conditions for something to shift — at your pace, not mine.
Sessions with me are led by you. I'm not here to push you somewhere you're not ready to go. My role is to walk alongside you, bring a calm and curious presence, and help you slow down enough to really see what's going on underneath.
A lot of people tell me that feels different from what they expected therapy to be.
Who I work with
I work with adults who feel disconnected from themselves — people who are navigating burnout, anxiety, life transitions, or the particular exhaustion of moving through the world as a neurodivergent person. If you've spent a long time adapting, performing, or just getting through the day, and you're ready to understand yourself on a deeper level, I'd love to connect.
I offer telehealth sessions and work on a private pay basis. Learn more about working with me here.
