The Moments Archive
encouragement that stays
By the time we recognize the need for support, we’ve usually been in the work for a while.
Dear Reader,
By the time we recognize the need for support, we’ve usually been in the work for a while. We’ve already been trying to stay with the thing we care about, and to keep going even when we are unsure of the outcome. Most of that effort happens internally. Often, no one else sees what it costs us.
What we find ourselves needing in those moments is not advice or a solution. What’s missing is encouragement. Not the loud, performative kind, but something smaller and more durable. A way of remembering that the effort still matters, even if it’s become hard to name what it’s leading toward.
But encouragement, when it’s honest, helps us stay connected to the truth that effort and struggle often live side by side. Encouragement doesn’t erase the difficulty or explain it away. It says, this is hard, and you’re doing it. It reminds us that we’re still in it, and that staying in it is its own kind of integrity.
We may not always hear those words from someone else. And that absence can feel painful, especially when we long for it from those closest to us like a parent, a partner, a friend. We can’t make others understand what we’re carrying. We can’t control whether they notice, or respond in the way we hope.
But we do have a say in how we meet ourselves in that space. Encouragement offered inward, with honesty and care, becomes a form of strength that no one else has to give us. And when we begin to trust that voice, even just a little, it becomes easier to keep going.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
staying with what matters
What often makes the difference is our willingness to continue.
Dear Reader,
There’s a kind of clarity that often accompanies the choice to begin. Even when the outcome is uncertain, the first step can feel grounding. We move forward with energy because our actions are aligned with something we care about.
Over time, that sense of alignment can become quieter. What once felt purposeful blends into the everyday. The feedback that encouraged us early on may no longer be there. Some days, it’s hard to tell whether anything is changing at all.
In therapy, people often describe this part as discouraging. The emotional reward has faded. The effort starts to feel disconnected from any visible result. When that happens, it’s easy to redirect our attention elsewhere - or to walk away entirely.
But what matters doesn’t always feel meaningful in every moment. And what carries us forward is rarely fueled by constant motivation.
What often makes the difference is our willingness to continue.
Staying with what matters, especially when it would be easier not to, builds something that couldn’t be built any other way.
It creates personal resiliency and shapes a life of meaning.
One formed not just by the spark of beginning, but by the steady practice of continuing.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
choosing to begin
Beginning is rarely as simple as it sounds.
Dear Reader,
Beginning is rarely as simple as it sounds.
On the surface, it may look like a single step forward, yet in practice it often means confronting hesitation, uncertainty, and the comfort of postponement. Many people wait because starting can feel like crossing a threshold they are not sure they can return from or fully commit to. That pause can stretch into weeks, months, or years, until the distance between intention and action feels too wide to cross.
Choosing to begin is an act of self-trust. It is the willingness to move without needing every detail in place. It is knowing that momentum grows from movement, even the smallest movement, rather than from thought alone. Beginning invites us to meet the unknown with curiosity instead of demanding certainty before we proceed.
When we begin early, the work stays gentle. Progress can build gradually instead of under the strain of urgency. There is room for mistakes, revisions, and pauses without losing the thread entirely. And in that process, we create a living relationship with our own intentions. We stop waiting for the “right” moment to appear and instead shape it ourselves as we move.
Over time, this practice reshapes the way we meet life. We discover that readiness often follows action, not the other way around. Each time we choose to begin, we affirm what matters most to us. Repeated in small, steady ways, that choice gradually aligns our lives with the values we hold closest, not through grand gestures but through the quiet, deliberate act of starting.
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
rest is where we begin again
Lately, in session after session, I have noticed the same opening scene.
Dear Reader,
Lately, in session after session, I have noticed the same opening scene.
Clients sink into the couch, cheeks warm from the sun, and exhale as if they have just crossed a finish line. Some fan themselves with their hands. Others take a long sip of water before speaking.
The words vary, but the feeling is the same: I am tired. I am stretched thin. I cannot seem to catch my breath.
We talk about what is on their plates: the invisible weight of caring for a struggling teenager, the quiet but constant worry over aging parents, the strain of a relationship that feels more like managing a household than sharing a life, the unrelenting need to appear capable and in control at work.
When I suggest rest, almost every person hesitates.
“I cannot. Not right now.”
“I will rest when things slow down.”
“If I stop, I will lose momentum.”
I understand. I have told myself the same things.
Even as therapists, we sometimes push beyond our own limits, convinced that pausing would cause everything to unravel. But I have also learned that the people who most resist rest are often the ones who need it the most. The ones who feel they cannot afford to pause are the very ones whose lives would be transformed by doing so.
Rest is not a luxury. It is a necessity. It can be as simple as a deep breath between words in a hard conversation. It can be going to bed early without needing to earn it. It can be sitting in your car for a moment before walking inside, allowing your nervous system to settle.
Rest is where we begin again. It restores our bodies, clears our minds, and returns us to ourselves. It is what makes it possible to show up for life in a way that is whole, present, and deeply human.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive
inviting peace
Peace doesn’t always arrive in the quiet after the storm.
Dear Reader,
Peace doesn’t always arrive in the quiet after the storm. Sometimes it shows up when things fall into place. Other times, it appears right in the thick of it all. In the ache, in the waiting, or in the unfinished edges we’re still learning to accept.
We often imagine peace as a reward, something to earn or stumble into when we’ve handled every detail. But maybe it’s not waiting at the end of the road. Maybe it walks beside us the whole way, hoping we’ll notice.
Some days, peace is warm and obvious. Other days it barely makes a sound. It sits in the room like a quiet friend. It waits while we untangle ourselves from distraction, expectation, noise.
You don’t need a reason to feel peaceful. You don’t have to qualify for it. All it asks is to be noticed. To be let in. Even if only for a moment.
This week, pause when you remember. Let your shoulders fall. Let your breath lead. Let the noise around you settle, just enough to remember you are already whole, even here.
Even now.
Yours in the journey,
Looking for more Moments? Intentional Moments Archive