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I almost did not start this podcast.
Not because I had nothing to say, but because I kept asking myself why I would add another voice to a world that already feels so loud. Everywhere you turn, someone is talking, influencing, explaining, offering advice, selling certainty, or filling the air with opinions. Some of it is thoughtful and helpful, of course. But a lot of it feels polished, quick, and performative in a way that does not leave much room for the complexity of real life.
Over this past year, though, something in me kept stirring. I kept feeling a kind of restlessness that was hard to name. It was not panic. It was not despair. It was more like something inside of me kept circling, trying to find a place to land. I found myself turning inward, reaching for books I would not normally choose, paying attention to conversations I did not go looking for, and wondering what all of this was trying to tell me.
The image that kept coming to mind was leaves spinning in a windstorm. One minute they are settled on the ground, and the next minute the wind lifts them, moves them around, rearranges them, and for a while you cannot quite tell where they are going to land. That is what this past year felt like to me. Everything was in motion, and I was trying to understand what the new pattern might become.
When Grief and Joy Show Up Together
This year held a lot. My sister died. My husband and my mother both went through cancer treatments. The anniversary of my father’s death came around. And in the middle of all of that, our family welcomed another beautiful granddaughter.
That is the strange and complicated truth of being human. Life does not wait for us to finish one feeling before it hands us another. We want things to arrive in order. We want a chapter for grief, then a chapter for healing, then a chapter for joy. But that is rarely how it happens. Sometimes you are grieving someone you love while also holding a new baby. Sometimes you are sitting in a waiting room afraid of what comes next, and later that same day you are laughing at something ordinary and wonderful.
As a psychologist, I know how much the body has to hold in seasons like that. We are not just thinking our way through life. We are carrying it in our nervous system, our sleep, our energy, our patience, our relationships, and our ability to feel like ourselves. So when people say, “I don’t know why I feel so unsettled,” I often think, of course you do. Look at what you have been holding.
When The Outside World Gets Inside Us
And then there is the world around us. The anger, the division, the constant noise, and the feeling that so many conversations have become dangerous or impossible. What happens out there does not stay out there. It comes into our homes, our marriages, our friendships, our families, and our bodies.
I have watched this enter the therapy room in a very real way. People are still talking about grief, health, work, aging, relationships, and identity. But now there is another layer. Families divided by beliefs. Friendships that feel more guarded. Marriages strained because values no longer feel shared. People who are afraid to speak honestly because they do not know what it will cost them.
That kind of division does not only live between people. Over time, it begins to live inside of us. We hold back. We smooth things over. We second-guess what we know. We tell people we are fine when some deeper part of us knows we are not. And that is not a small thing. The cost of pretending shows up in our bodies, our confidence, our relationships, and our ability to trust ourselves.
Why Becoming Real Matters
That is really why this podcast exists. Not because I believe I have all the answers. I do not. But after forty years as a psychologist, I do believe deeply in the power of real conversation. I believe in slowing down long enough to ask better questions. I believe in paying attention to what we keep pushing aside. And I believe that when people begin to hear themselves more clearly, something starts to change.
To me, becoming real is not about being loud or certain. It is not about spilling every feeling and calling that honesty. It is about listening more carefully to your own life. It is about noticing where you have gone quiet, where you are performing, where you are carrying something that was never really yours, and where your body may already know something your mind keeps trying to explain away.
That kind of honesty can be uncomfortable, but it is often where healing begins. Sometimes the most important questions are also the simplest ones: What is true here? What am I trying not to hear? What keeps spinning because I have not let it land?
Those are the kinds of conversations I want to have here. Conversations about grief, caregiving, health, relationships, fear, confidence, self-doubt, aging, identity, courage, and the ongoing work of becoming more honest with ourselves.
A Place to Begin
Maybe the place to begin is with your own restlessness. Instead of rushing past it or assuming it means something is wrong, maybe you can get curious about it. Sometimes restlessness is a signal that something in you wants your attention. Sometimes it means you are overdue for honesty. Sometimes it means the leaves are still spinning because they are trying to settle into a new pattern.
That is where Becoming Real begins.
Pull up a chair. We’re just getting started.
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