It’s the loneliness of a woman who has a full life on paper, maybe a partner, children, a career, a social media presence that would suggest she’s connected, and yet something feels quietly, persistently missing. The conversations she’s having don’t go very deep. The friendships that used to feel sustaining have drifted. She can’t quite remember the last time she felt truly known by someone.

If you have started searching things like "perimenopause rage" or "why am I so angry," you are far from alone. Research suggests irritability is the primary mood complaint for up to 70% of women in perimenopause. About 4 in 10 women experience mood symptoms during the transition that are similar to what they may have felt premenstrually, except the timing is unpredictable and the intensity is often greater.

Most women who ask this question aren’t in crisis even if it might feel like that. They’re paying attention. They’re noticing that something has shifted, and now trying to make sense of it.

Menopause changes how you show up. A lot of women describe wanting to step out of parenting, or at least step out of the version of parenting they've been doing for twenty years. Not because they love their children any less, but because parenting asks us to constantly care for someone else's needs, and suddenly you find that you genuinely do not care what anyone else wants from you in the way you used to.

I wanted to explore why talking with an AI assistant is not the same as talking things through with a close friend or a therapist. It can scratch the surface, but it doesn't get to the depth, the emotional perspective, or ( and this is what matters most to me) the ability to read the room.

Grief is what happens whenever we lose something that mattered. And if you have been moving through midlife -navigating a marriage ending, a friendship quietly dissolving, a sibling who turned out to be someone very different from who you needed them to be, a parent who is no longer capable of being a parent to you, a child whose life looks nothing like what you imagined - you may be carrying more grief than you have names for.

The reasons are layered. People are living longer and healthier lives, which changes the calculation of staying in an unsatisfying marriage another twenty or thirty years is a long time to be unhappy. The stigma around divorce has diminished. And crucially, more women have financial independence today than in previous generations, which means staying for financial security is less of a constraint than it once was.

Some friendships were always a bit of a stretch. You stayed in them because of history, or convenience, or the shared context of parenting at the same time, or because it felt like you were supposed to be close. You showed up, you made it work, you adjusted yourself to fit.

But as you get clearer about who you are — and the identity work we talked about in our previous post pushes you in this direction — you start noticing which relationships ask you to be less than yourself. Which conversations leave you feeling a little flattened. Which friendships are built more on habit than on genuine connection.

What if people stop liking me? What if I stop being invited? What if, when I stop performing all of this, no one actually shows up?

Here is what I want you to hear: it is okay to say no. It is okay to take care of yourself. And a lot of times, when you start doing that, something unexpected happens. You stop showing up out of obligation, and you start showing up because you genuinely want to. Things become lighter. More true. More connecting.

Neurodivergent brains often shine when it comes to thinking outside the box. This is especially useful when trying to make routines stick/consistent. Instead of forcing yourself into a rigid schedule that doesn’t fit, you can get creative with systems that do.

Your role isn’t to be their therapist, but to be a consistent, trustworthy presence in their life. Show up for them. Be predictable. Follow through on your promises, no matter how small. This consistency helps restore their faith that not everyone is bad and that the world holds safe people

A retreat is more than a getaway. Think of it as stepping outside the noise and demands of your everyday life to reset, refresh, and reconnect. It’s not about extravagant travel or over-the-top plans—it’s about creating space.

“Do you enjoy putting needles in other people?”
This is a question I hear often from clients.  The truth is - no, I don’t.  I’m not fond of causing even a moment of discomfort, whether it’s the quick pinch of insertion or the slight heaviness that can follow.

What I do love is the depth and beauty of acupuncture itself.  The principles behind it are intelligent, wonderous, and profoundly interconnected with life.

One week after my 50th birthday, I crossed the stage to officially become a therapist. I was wearing the cap and gown, holding my diploma, and thinking, I wish I had done this earlier in life.

The trouble is, when you’ve been so good at caring for everyone else, you often forget — or never learned — how to identify what you need and how to ask for it. And here’s the kicker: people can’t read your mind.

I often hear women in this stage say they’re tempted to scrap a relationship because “it’s not working anymore.” But sometimes, it’s not that the relationship is broken — it’s that what you need from it has changed, and you haven’t yet named it.

At the heart of what I do is a simple but powerful goal: to help people feel better. Whether someone walks into my office with pain, tension, stress, or just the need to feel more at home in their own body, I want them to leave feeling lighter, more comfortable, and more hopeful than when they arrived.

In our last post, we touched upon how our body and mind hold onto the very thing they need to let go.  Before we start the second part of this series, I want to invite you to think about what stress means and what kind of cause and effect it has in your life. 

People often ask me, “Isn’t it hard listening to people’s pain all day?” and yes, it can be. Sitting with grief, anxiety, trauma, or long-held emotional wounds isn’t light work…and what people don’t always see is the other side of it: the human connection, the quiet strength, and the small but powerful shifts that happen in the counselling space.

   Thanks to the cognitive process called negativity bias in us humans, we tend to focus more on controversial and negative events and information. Fuelled by social media and our affliction for being consumed by screens than spending time living in the present moment, we unknowingly orient our minds to being overcritical and/or overwhelm it with the aim of protecting ourselves. As a result, we are quick to judge and spend most of our energy on noticing the red flags or deal-breakers in a relationship. We fail to see the good in others and do not value the green flags enough, which signal positive actions or traits required to build a strong foundation for a thriving relationship.

Before I became a therapist, I worked as a social worker among women and children in for over six years. During this time, I often felt frustrated because many of the people I helped were stuck in their situations due to trauma or their inability to overcome fears and emotions. My role involved helping people meet their needs, improve their quality of life, and make a positive impact. However, I noticed that many of my clients couldn't fully benefit from the resources available to them because their mental health issues hindered their progress. This frustration led me to feel a bit lost, and I decided to become a mental health therapist.