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For years, I had a pattern of showing up as the fixer in my relationships. I would clean, cook, do the laundry, overextend, and do whatever it took to keep things together. Sound familiar? Looking back, I realize that many of the partners I dated during that time were more like projects than partners. I convinced myself that if I could just fix, help, or do enough, then I’d be loved, valued and more importantly, I would be safe from being abandoned. 

One of the most powerful shifts you can make in your thinking is embracing the power of and.

We're often taught to think in extremes:

“Its either a hell yes or a hell no”

“I’m either happy or sad.”

“I either love them or I don’t.”

“I’m either strong or weak.”

The mother wound is not simply a result of a mother's lack of care or affection; it goes much deeper. It's the emotional trauma a daughter carries when her emotional needs were overlooked, dismissed, or invalidated by the person who was meant to nurture her. 

Over the years, I’ve worked with countless people who are navigating heartbreak, relationship struggles, and patterns that seem impossible to break. As they share their stories, certain themes begin to emerge feelings of never being enough, struggles with boundaries, and a deep fear of abandonment or rejection. Often, at the root of these experiences is what’s known as the father wound.

“A gaslit child will become an adult who does not trust their own compass.” — Patrick Teahan

There’s a deep wound that many of us carry-one that doesn’t always show itself in obvious ways but lingers beneath the surface, shaping the way we love, the way we trust, and the way we move through the world. It’s the wound of self-doubt, planted in childhood, often by the very people who were meant to be our safe harbor.

Just let it go. Just move on. Just get over it. How many times have you heard this? How many times have you said this to yourself. Letting go is not easy. It’s one of the most difficult things we are asked to do. Over and over again. 

Monday morning arrived, and my inbox was flooded with emails from clients hoping to squeeze in a last-minute session. At first, I thought, this is a busier week than usual. Then I glanced at my calendar and realized why: Valentine’s Day was approaching.

Few days stir up emotions quite like Valentine’s Day. It’s a day saturated with messages about what love should look like, grand gestures, perfect romance, and effortless connection. And when our reality doesn’t match these idealized images, it’s easy to feel like we’re missing something, like love is just out of reach.

I have the privilege of working with clients all over the world-people in their 20s through their 70s, and without fail, I hear some version of this statement:

"It’s too late for me."

Too late to find love. Too late to make new friends. Too late to change careers. Too late to start over.

We grow up believing love should feel a certain way. Maybe we expect it to be passionate, all-consuming, or effortless, something straight out of a novel or a perfectly curated Instagram post.

I spent a bulk of my childhood through my twenties lost in the fantasy of love, thinking that life would only truly begin when I met "the one" and finally got married. I believed that love would make me feel complete, whole, and seen. It took a few heartbreaks to wake up and truly understand what it takes to make a relationship work.