Welcome to the Positive Osmosis Journal

Have you ever been hurt by someone and almost immediately started looking for what you did wrong? Maybe someone dismissed your feelings, failed to show up, crossed a boundary, or made you feel as though your needs were too much. But instead of staying with *That hurt me*, your attention turned inward: *Maybe I’m too sensitive.* *Maybe I expected too much.* *Maybe I caused this.* Resentment often grows around hurt, anger, or unfairness that has never been acknowledged. But i

What happens when disappointment repeats often enough that it begins to feel like proof? Maybe you have tried to get healthier, change a habit, finish something meaningful, repair a relationship, or feel more like yourself again. At first, each attempt carries at least a little possibility. But when progress is slow—or when we find ourselves starting over again—disappointment begins to accumulate. Eventually, discouragement stops saying, This is hard. It starts saying, This i

Have you ever known you wanted something to change, maybe even known what your next step could be, and still found yourself unable to move? I have. And my first response is usually frustration. Why am I doing this again? Why do I keep getting in my own way? I know better. Lately, though, I've been wondering if I've been asking the wrong question. Maybe it isn't only: Why am I afraid to take the next step? Maybe it's: Do I trust myself to be okay with whatever happens after I

For a long time, I thought understanding had to happen in my head. If I could figure something out, make sense of it, find the reason, then maybe I could trust it. But what about everything happening within us that we aren't consciously aware of? What about the choices we make because something simply speaks to us? The places where we feel different. The things we're drawn toward without knowing why. Maybe there's more happening below the surface than we realize. I recently s

Most of us imagine healing will feel like freedom. Less anxiety. Less fear. More peace. More joy. But sometimes, healing brings something we never expected. It brings loss. Not because we're going backward. Because we're beginning to let go of the life we had to build in order to survive. Maybe it looked like always trying to please everyone. Maybe it meant staying hypervigilant, always scanning for what might go wrong. Maybe it meant using food to get through feelings that s

We hear it all the time. Let go. Stop trying to control everything. Trust the process. But what if letting go doesn't feel freeing? What if it feels like giving up the very thing that's keeping you okay? Sometimes holding on isn't about needing things to go our way. Sometimes it's what we do when we don't trust what will happen if we stop. For some of us, difficult feelings don't just feel uncomfortable. They can feel unbearable. Sadness. Grief. Uncertainty. Rejection. Helple

I'll do it when I feel ready. Most of us have said those words. Maybe it's starting the business. Having the conversation. Applying for the job. Setting the boundary. We tell ourselves we'll do it when the timing is right. When we have more confidence. When we're less afraid. When we finally feel... ready. But what if "ready" isn't actually what we're waiting for? What if we're waiting to feel safe? That changes the conversation. Because if being noticed once led to criticism

I don't think we realize how often we're looking for proof that we're enough. Maybe it's the number on a scale. Maybe it's how productive we've been this week. Maybe it's whether someone texts us back. Maybe it's how well our children are doing. Maybe it's how quickly we're healing. Maybe it's whether someone notices our efforts. Without realizing it, these things can slowly become more than experiences. They become evidence. Evidence that we're doing well. Evidence that we'r

You open the email. The answer isn't what you hoped for. The phone doesn't ring. The package arrives... and it isn't what you expected. For a moment, it's just disappointment. Then something shifts. It isn't just, "I'm disappointed." It becomes, "Maybe I should stop trying." Not because we've lost interest. Because we're tired. Tired of hoping. Tired of putting ourselves out there. Tired of believing that maybe this time things will be different. That's what disappointment do

What if it isn't the canceled plans that hurt? Someone cancels. A phone call doesn't come. A text goes unanswered. On the surface, it's a moment most people experience. Sometimes today's events awaken old wounds rather than create new ones. So why do some of those moments pass by... while others seem to hit us in the chest? For a long time, I thought the event itself was the problem. The canceled plans. The phone that never rang. The unanswered message. What I'm beginning to

What if one of your greatest strengths started as a survival strategy? Many of us take pride in being independent. We handle things. Figure things out. Push through. We become the person others can count on. The strong one. The capable one. The one who says: "I've got this." Most of the time, these qualities are seen as strengths. And they can be. But sometimes what looks like a strength began as an adaptation. I learned very early that relying on other people felt uncertain.

This past week has felt a little blah. Not terrible. Not a crisis. Just low energy, a little under the weather, and not quite myself. Normally, when I feel this way, my instinct is to push. Do more. Fix it. Get back on track. But this week, I didn't have much fight in me. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Tonight I went to Recovery Dharma. A man who had previously bullied me showed up. If I had known he was going to be there, I probably wouldn't have gone. When I saw him, my

Have you ever agreed to something before you knew how you felt about it? Someone asks for help. An invitation arrives. A new responsibility appears. And before you've even checked in with yourself, you've already answered. For a long time, I didn't realize how often I did this. When making decisions, I considered what needed to be done. I considered what other people wanted. I considered expectations. I considered the list. What I didn't often consider was myself. I wasn't as

Relationships can feel especially vulnerable when there is hurt, distance, tension, or uncertainty. Many of us were never shown what healthy rupture and repair looked like. So when connection feels threatened, our nervous systems often move quickly toward protection. Recently, I experienced a significant rupture in an important relationship. In the past, moments like this often felt unbearable to my nervous system. I would either abandon myself to preserve the connection… or

This week I’ve been sitting with a realization that has felt both relieving and deeply painful, at the same time. Sometimes the ways we learned to survive can slowly become the ways we lose connection with ourselves. Recently, during an ACoA meeting, we read something that hit me hard: “We watched a parent’s behavior to determine how we should feel or not feel.” I realized how much of my life had been shaped around paying attention to everyone else before paying attention to

Self-love gets talked about a lot. But for many people, it’s hard to practice something that was never fully modeled for us. If we grew up believing our worth was tied to performance, caretaking, staying quiet, or meeting everyone else’s needs first, self-love can feel unfamiliar… or even selfish. Self-love wasn’t something I grew up understanding. Honestly, it wasn’t even part of the conversation. What I did understand was fixing myself. I wasn’t always sure what was suppose

Sometimes our reactions are younger than we are. A moment happens in the present—but suddenly we feel small, unsafe, unseen, rejected, or overwhelmed in ways that seem bigger than the moment itself. This week, I’ve been thinking a lot about grief. Not just grief for what happened—but grief for the life I couldn’t fully live because so much of my energy went into staying safe. When we’re young, we don’t always realize we’re adapting. We just learn. Be quiet. Be good. Don’t tak

You might recognize this. Or maybe you’ve lived it for a long time without realizing it. I thought being hard on myself was what moved me forward. And for a long time, it worked. It’s what I learned. It’s what I saw. The bar kept rising—higher and higher. Expecting more. Doing more. Pushing more. And I did. Push. Push. Push. Always reaching for the next thing— without ever really acknowledging what had already been done. It felt like forward movement. But it wasn’t what was h

We don’t always realize when we’ve left ourselves. Sometimes it looks like scrolling, numbing, or staying busy. This is about noticing—and finding your way back.

Monday’s therapy was hard. I was sitting in my body, trying to stay present with my emotions, and everything got stuck. My throat. My jaw. Tight. Heavy. Not moving. Nothing was released. No insight. No shift. Just… stuck. And underneath that, there was grief. A lot of it. The kind that makes you want to get out. Out of your body. Out of the feeling. Out of the moment. That’s where I usually leave myself. I would have reached for something— food, distraction, anything to not f