Every year, like clockwork, we see it: In December, as the holidays approach, therapy sessions get cancelled. In September, as back-to-school chaos hits, reschedules roll in. And almost every time, the reason is some version of, “I’m just too busy right now.”

When I was growing up, my dad would often say, “Time heals all”. He would say this while trying to reassure me as a child when I was crying or upset. I used to believe him and think time was enough. That in time, if I just kept going, kept busy, the pain would eventually fade. But here’s what I’ve learned the hard way on my unhealed wounds: time doesn’t heal what we aren’t willing or able to face.

Every once in a while, you read something that doesn’t just inform—it hits. It speaks to your lived experience in a way that feels like, “Yes. That. Exactly that." For me, that book was ADHD 2.0 by Dr. Edward Hallowell and Dr. John Ratey.

When someone reaches out to start therapy, it’s almost never about just one thing. Sure, maybe it starts with anxiety that won’t stop, a relationship that’s wearing you down, or the weight of burnout you can’t shake. But underneath, there’s usually something bigger—a need to feel seen, supported, and like yourself again.

The other day, someone who’s never been to therapy asked me, “Why do people even go?” they weren’t being dismissive—just genuinely curious. I paused for a moment and said something I hadn’t fully articulated before.

I used to think virtual therapy couldn’t compare to in-person. As a therapist myself, I’ve always felt the energy in a room matters—that there’s something sacred about sitting across from someone and holding space.

This phrase, recently heard in our team EFIT (Emotion Focused Individual Therapy) training, landed for me in that way the best truths do — clear, simple, and absolutely undeniable. This statement is what I see every day in my work. It’s what I’ve lived myself. And I bet it’s something many of you will quietly recognize.

As a therapist, I sit with people in their most raw and vulnerable moments. I witness regret that can’t be undone, conversations that will never happen, goodbyes that came too soon, and chances people thought they had more time to take.

I’ve recently noticed a growing trend that more and more people are using AI for therapy. While AI tools like these might offer a sense of instant relief or support in the moment, they aren’t a replacement for a real, human connection.