Do we go through the psychotherapeutic process to become different versions of ourselves? Maybe we attend sessions to learn skills or create outcomes that benefit us outside the confines of therapy. Sometimes we just feel the need to unload information. Occasionally, we may want the perspective of a good friend, without the social pressure that comes with a “real” friend. 

We approach therapy with expectations, hoping for outcomes that will change something outside the room. It’s a reasonable hope or desire—after all, we go to doctors for help, and we experience the benefits of treatment in our daily lives, not just in the doctor’s office. However, the changes we experience in therapy often happen inside the room itself. The behaviours we practise are not just things that will affect us outside of therapy; they’re immediate and present.

When we express anxious feelings that we’re too uncomfortable to share elsewhere, we are connecting more authentically with the part of us that wants to be open and comfortable. Facing fears in therapy isn’t solely because of the therapist or the environment, though these factors do help create a safe space. We do it because we are tapping into the most authentic part of ourselves—the part that integrates all of our experiences and connects past and present.

We are connecting, ever so slowly, to the innermost part of who we are. And in doing so, we’re learning that this is us. This means that the therapeutic process isn’t about finding a cure or even about change in the traditional sense. We aren’t developing or growing in the way we might think. In fact, we are going in the opposite direction—possibly becoming smaller, returning to ourselves. In that space, we find the most strength and power to engage with the world in the way we believe is right and fair.

Being a therapist isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s not about being above, beyond, or separate from the people I work with.

Being a therapist is walking alongside my clients. It’s listening – really listening. It’s opening myself to their experience and making room for whatever needs to be said. And I mean whatever. It’s being willing to admit when I’m wrong. It’s sitting with the unknown. It’s letting my clients tell me what they feel – about life, about themselves, and sometimes, about me. And taking that in.

Now let’s be clear: I don’t have it all worked out. I’m not a perfect person. I ignore my own advice more than I’d like to admit. I skip the exercises I know would bring me back to my senses. I forget to breathe. I speak before I think. I don’t always listen to my wife or my son the way I should.

I get angry. I get sad. I feel down, lost, lonely, hopeful, excited, distant, joyful – sometimes all in the same week.

I’m human. Just like the men I work with.

I need support. I need routines, guidance, space. I need to feel safe and grounded, too. My comfort with emotions doesn’t mean I’m untouched by them. My training doesn’t make me invincible.

And that’s important to say – not just for me, but for the men who come and sit across from me. Because there’s a real vulnerability in showing up and speaking honestly with someone, especially for men who’ve spent years keeping things locked up tight.

So I hold that with care. But I also don’t pretend I’m on some pedestal. We meet man to man.

That balance – between honouring their risk and staying grounded in my own humanity – is what makes this work real. Every session is an opportunity. And every time we step into that room, I’m reminded what a privilege it is to be there.

The journey leading to fatherhood is a complex and emotional journey that can stir up many questions and concerns in new fathers. Do I value it? Do I feel empowered? What was my own father like? Who might I fail as a father? These questions can rattle around in our heads, making the prospect of taking responsibility for a new life seem overwhelming and impossible to deal with. 

The truth is that fatherhood is a scary unknown to leap into, and everything about it is uncertain. We may feel like we can barely take care of ourselves and our spouses at times, so how can we possibly protect this little life? The fear and anxiety that come with this role can cause intrusive and scary thoughts that make us feel like we are destined to fail.

However, the anxieties and fears we feel as new fathers are telling us something important about ourselves. They tell us that we want to be good and take care of our babies and children. They tell us of the immense sense of leadership and influence that we feel. We recognize how well we want to do and hope to do everything perfectly, striving to be the world’s greatest dad. We have the power to influence our children’s lives, and we want to ensure that our power is used for good – that our babies feel protected, and know that we are protecting them.

This wild and unfamiliar journey can be both scary and empowering. While there are many unknowns, we cannot let our fears define us. Instead, we must acknowledge and recognize our fears and look for what they are telling us. Embrace the journey and be willing to learn, grow and adapt as we navigate the ups and downs leading up to fatherhood. We all want to be good dads and that is okay.

It is commonly believed that people pleasing is an issue primarily faced by women. However, this notion couldn’t be further from the truth. Men can also fall prey to the perils of people pleasing, often overlooked or dismissed. Men’s people pleasing tendencies are often misinterpreted as controlling or protective behaviour, weakness, or even being a “nice guy.” It’s crucial to shed light on this issue and delve into why men go to great lengths to please others, even at their own expense. 

Compassion is a term that is often thrown around casually, as if it only applies to special circumstances or specific individuals. We tend to view compassion as something external, something we extend to others. However, what we fail to realize is that compassion goes far beyond mere actions or interactions with others. Compassion is an integral part of how we respond to our own fear of imperfection. By cultivating compassion for ourselves, we can relieve the immense pressure to be flawless or to perform perfectly. This pressure lies at the heart of a people pleaser’s motivation.

Deep within every people pleaser resides a yearning for perfection. The need for approval from those closest to us can be all-consuming. Without this approval, we may feel unworthy or broken. It is essential to question our motivation. Do we genuinely seek perfection? And if so, is it fair to place such an expectation on ourselves? What if all we need to hear is that we are good enough? What if what we are striving for is already good enough? Our performance, as imperfect as it may be, is good enough. Sometimes, the most significant affirmation we need is to acknowledge that we are okay just as we are, without needing to change.

Once we embrace this realization, our motivations undergo a transformation. We approach others with authenticity and genuine connection, unconfined by the burden of constantly trying to please. By cultivating self-compassion, we free ourselves from the chains of perfectionism, enabling more meaningful interactions. Embracing our inherent worthiness allows for authentic relationships built on mutual respect and understanding.

How do we strike a balance between submitting to our past and embracing it as part of who we are? Does the past define or control us? Do we have any agency in how we move forward with our lives, or are things predetermined? These may sound like philosophical or even spiritual questions, but before we delve into that, they direct us to a more personal place—a place where we explore how we interact with the difficult realities of our poor decisions, past pain, and the people and situations that have let us down.

Do we run from these experiences, telling ourselves that, although they exist, we can move forward with strength? Do we cower away and protect ourselves? Or do we commit to confronting these issues and working them out before we move on? These are powerful questions, but there has to be a balance.

There are likely components of all these approaches that we can use to create lives that are both strong and purposeful, while still compassionate and present. When we bring ourselves forward to engage with the world, we often believe there are rules of engagement. This is true—social rules and dynamics are essential to human development and the functioning of society. Without explicit and implicit rules, individuals and communities break down.

Where we run into trouble is in how we interpret these rules. Do they mean we are banned from experiencing our inner world, or do they mean we need to create boundaries so as not to damage those important structures that exist? The second option is likely closer to the truth. What this suggests is that we can recognize our past, with all the pain and pleasure that comes with it, while also giving ourselves the necessary space to be protected from intense feelings.

We can find moments, activities, and relationships that help us process these emotions, while still being strong and purposeful about moving forward. There is no point at which we must lock away our past or submit to it and lose agency. Rather, we must learn how to manage and integrate it into our present and future.

A fully integrated person is someone who carries all their experiences—good and bad—and allows themselves to listen genuinely to their own thoughts and feelings. This gives us the strength, as one of my clients recently put it, to “stop thinking about what I should say and start saying what I’m thinking.”

We have all heard the old adage ‘fake it till you make it.’ Somehow, it has become ingrained in our society, leading us to believe that if we pretend long enough, we will achieve our desired outcome. Marriage troubles? Pretend to be a good husband. Not seeing financial returns in business? Dress the part of a financially successful person. Difficulty fitting in with the popular crowd? Conform and assimilate. At first glance, this approach may seem effective. Essentially, we position ourselves where we want to be and create a persona that fits.

But does ‘faking it till you make it’ truly create real change? The answer is, it depends on what we are looking for. If we are searching for purpose and connectedness, this practice will likely not lead us there. When we pretend or create a persona that reflects the person we aspire to be, we skip important steps. In doing so, we risk losing sight of our true selves and what initially set us in motion. Behaving without clarity, we often end up with everything we ever wanted but still feel like something is lacking.

So, what alternative approach can we take that may be better? An approach that still guides us towards surface-level achievements while leaving us feeling fulfilled. I call this approach ‘implement until it’s routine.’ The actions we take may appear similar at times, but the underlying process is different. Our goal is not simply to succeed; it is to understand why success is important to us, what it means personally, what drives us to succeed, and what success genuinely looks like.

By embarking on this introspective journey, we can establish a set of values—a system that empowers us to make autonomous decisions based on our unique definition of success and purpose. From there, we implement, implement, and implement some more. We make decisions that consistently align with our values, gradually turning success into a routine. In this way, we cannot skip essential steps. Living a successful life means staying aligned with our core values and implementing change accordingly.

So, the next time you feel tempted to ‘fake it till you make it,’ pause and consider what you truly value and why it matters to you. Then, implement those values until they become routine.

We often use the concept of “feeling” to describe how we relate to the various goings-on in our lives, our histories, and our relationships. But sometimes, this word misses the mark. Often, when we describe an experience with a feeling, the feeling itself loses its power to be felt. It’s bizarre because all we’re trying to do is communicate what we understand to be our emotional state.

Sometimes, we work tirelessly to find the right words, only to hear them back and realize they’re off-point, completely wrong, or, even worse, invalidating and infuriating. Other times, we simply have no idea how to find the words because we lack awareness of what is actually going on. Even after focused attention, detailed discussion, therapy, and journaling, we may still feel lost in what it is we are trying to uncover. The pursuit itself becomes overwhelming, trapping us in a cycle of thoughts and words.

So what happens here? What are we missing? What is the missing piece that allows us to unlock these feelings—to know and deeply understand what we are experiencing in any given moment?

Because that’s just it: we can’t feel what happened before, nor can we feel what we think is happening or what will happen in the future. So what is the answer?

What’s often missing is the embodiment of the experience: the sensations, the sight, smell, touch, sound, and taste. We overlook the messages our bodies are sending us. The tension in our chest becomes a symptom of anxiety. The euphoric energy sparked by the smell of our mother’s cooking gets reduced to mere happiness or satisfaction. But what is it that we are feeling? What is it that we are sensing?

In every moment, our body is in constant communication with itself. Messages are sent, and our bodies respond. We are allowed to sense these responses. These sensations are our truest feelings—the ones that, if we pay attention to them, can lead us to the places we want to go and the ones we avoid. They can show us the power we already embody, without needing practice or time.

When we turn our attention to the body, our feelings become clear and unabstract. In this space, we find sensation. We embody our emotions. We become integrated and attentive custodians of our own experience.

When we look at our relationships, it looks to us at times as though we are pulling apart from one another. This is true with familial relationships, friendships, business partnerships, and casual acquaintances alike. There are moments in time where we feel distant from one another or that there is a perceived distance, and this distance can be supremely uncomfortable. It can look to us as though we have no attachment with those that we care about in a deep way or even those whose connection would matter a great deal in that moment in which we perceive this great distance.

What’s odd is that this doesn’t seem to happen in a patterned way, where something we do or say seems to impact the distance we may feel from others. Of course, there are those moments which obviously lead to distance—like fights, insulting words, or intense moments which exist on the extreme ends of the spectrum. But the reality is that this feeling of distance or being far away just seems to happen at times, almost as though it is part of the very nature of relationships.

Well, it’s interesting to look at the world through this lens because when we do, we may start to notice this in other parts. The tide goes in and out. The moon waxes and wanes. The sun rises and sets. Particularly interesting is that as a seed moves toward becoming a plant, it rots and dies, lying dormant. But in reality, it waits to take on its new form as a plant or tree. Its most dormant point is the point immediately before it starts its next chapter.

Now, this may seem obvious—”it’s darkest before dawn” kind of speak—but it’s not simply that. We can even find that when we look at our own lives, there are moments when we are more friendly, more kind to ourselves. Moments when we feel connected and understanding of our context and situation, and moments where this is not as much the case. These moments can be difficult to digest. But what is actually happening in these moments? Are we really becoming more distant from ourselves? Are we truly backing away from our relationships with others? Is the sun setting?

I’d suggest that we are turning to look at ourselves and our relationships and that the sun is on its way back. Life is an endless journey of running away and returning—it’s what allows us to see reality. Stepping away from someone, from something, from a moment in time or a feeling we have, gives us an opportunity. One that, although painful and difficult to get through, can give us the biggest gift: to notice the elements of ourselves that feel unwhole or incomplete and to nurture these. And then, to notice the others—the ones to whom we wish to give—and see them as a destination. One to run to. One to return to. And in this space, we find passion, love, and a deep yearning for being in the state that feels whole and aligned. We find true connection.