quick note: this blog post is not written by AI. The writing below features ideas and wisdom of artists, personal journalling and newsletter writing, curated to what a therapist feels the world is needing these days. 

Image via @realizationbypea

from our newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, RCAT

Be real with me… what is your relationship with time like?  ୧ ‧ ˚ 

When I am overwhelmed, time feels like the scariest, most unattainable currency that I cannot get back once it pasts by. From the hours, minutes to seconds, I find myself reacting to my thoughts, the ‘standards’ and shoulds on how I need to be spending my time and transforming it into something valuable, productive, ~rich~.

This obsession leaks into how I see money, work, relationships and I'd hate to admit this, my entire sense of self.

I’ve met so many people who try to force outcomes to ‘shape their reality.’ That might look like getting a perfect job with no career gaps or trying to appear as though they have their life together by a certain age (we're not even on linkedin btw •̀ ᴖ •́). Over time, those expectations can attach themselves to our identity and perceived reality.

via pinterest

The more we obsess over time, the more it breeds fear, frustration, hesitation and misalignment.

Did you know? 
Your energy is your most VALUABLE resource in life.

Therefore where you put your time and attention determines everything.

Instead of forcing outcomes, what if we start curating your reality with alignment, creative direction, and thoughtful refinement. Like an artist curating their work 𖦹

via pinterest

I journaled this the other day: “my relationship with time is kind, sweet, caring, full of life, light”

Perhaps mourning/stressing about time and next thing, which is heavy in weight, is dictating a relationship with time that isn’t valuable to me!

We cannot time hop in multiple streams of consciousness. 

So disappointing, am I right? It's really too bad that we can’t live in every parallel timeline like we are everything everywhere all at once. Trying to juggle all the goals, tasks, and “what ifs,” whether it’s making our days off perfect or savouring the end of summer, usually just leaves us with an abstract and confused state of feeling.

HOWEVER, I’ve been thinking a lot about quantum leaping, also called timeline jumping. The idea is that if you’re on level 1 and you want to get to level 8, it’s really about giving yourself room to believe that level 8 is just the next step, waiting for you.

Time is not something we need to centre and obsess over.

Thanks to this tiktok I watched last month, I've been on this case ever since. Obsessing about time traps us in procrastination, locks us into overwhelm, and confines us to cycles of productivity and capitalist urgency which are the very things we don’t want taking over our lives.

When our most easeful and fluid path (the realm where time flow exists) starts to blur under pressure, how can we anchor ourselves to remember how we want time and life to truly feel?

Here’s your art journalling prompt:

Draw and describe how fluid time is to you currently. Draw a portal that allows you to experience time the way you want time to feel.
 

Use your fave mediums: Mine are stickers, collaging, digital media like Pinterest images, sparkly gel pens, words, pencil crayons, oil pastels, coloured pens to express myself.

From this prompt, TIME IS A MEADOW came up for me. I call her, Mother Time. Instead of me trying to micro-manage/control time, or duelling it out with time, she is here to support me. This isn't a battle. I also don't have to mother time. Time is here for me and with me. I'm rolling with it and curious to what this art prompt will reveal for you!

TLDR; or don't feel like journalling? Try reflecting on this in the month ahead:

✩ Gently build curiosity by learning your unique rhythm and pace.

✩ Practice your ability to redirect and focus with purpose and intention. 

✩ Slowly expand your capacity for flow instead of control with time.

I see you! ⋆˙⟡ written by yours truly, Linda

quick note: this blog post is not written by AI. The writing below features ideas and wisdom of artists, personal journalling and newsletter writing, curated to what a therapist feels the world is needing these days. 

from our newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

What does it take to feel our enough-ness these days?

Lately in therapy sessions, in conversations with friends and family, and while recording the self-directed workshop series in collab with @friendlybureau on healing money (made for children of immigrants and working-class folks), I keep sensing a common thread. That we’re all experiencing a quiet, complex grief, each in our own way.

And one symptom that festers is the feeling of being stuck on a hamster wheel of proving.

There’s this unrelenting pressure to stay urgent, distracted, productive. Proving to others, yes—but if I’m unbearably honest, we’re trying to prove to ourselves that we’re enough.

My nervous system is so often on edge, caught in a cycle of not being there for myself enough—not resting enough, not reaching out enough, not building the right kind of structure. Always chasing a version of 'enough' that was never mine to begin with. These 'enoughs' don’t align with the values I want to bring into the world, or with what truly matters to me.

But when I slow down even just a bit, I become increasingly curious:
Do we know what our enough is?

Has it been named, clarified, or felt?

If we don’t know what enough is—how can we feel the enough?

When is enough... enough?
What even is ‘enough’?

Is the ‘enough’ we’re chasing actually important to us?

The attention economy: colonization of the mind

 It’s becoming harder to tell the difference between what we actually need and what the internet insists we should do.

Like taping my mouth shut so I don’t mouth breathe at night. Or doing facial yoga because I’ve been told my smile lines are deepening.

Each effort, well-intentioned, chips away at my energy: time feels tighter to the point where I want to hide in a dark cave, just to escape from all the noise.

Because there’s no actual importance, softness, appreciation of my life energy.

And that’s not even the life I want.

What if we could see that our body is trying its best—working so hard to meet the demands of the culture we live in?

Gentle reminders for you and me

 When we disconnect from our dreams, from presence—that’s a signal that we’re drifting from our body, our vitality, our aliveness.

Starting is enough.
Connecting our mind and body to witness how we react to the instability, unsustainable practices from these uncertain times, is enough. Like paying attention to our breath, we don’t have to change anything.

I believe that our bodies know deep down what doesn't matter to us and what actually matters.

What matters could be being witnessed, cared for, getting recognition or loved by those we hold close.

Maybe what matters is being of service because that is what heals us too.

Living with meaning, with pleasure, or with living dreams!

What if our collective aliveness is already in you—beneath the noise, quietly patiently waiting for you? 

When we confront the truth that we’re not here forever, something softens.

What if you are not existing and came all the way here to be excellent, but simply to connect?
To try.
To show up just as you are.
To bring something that matters to your soul.
To reach for life.

 
And as you find your way through all the noise...
you discover that you’re still enough.

 And that enoughness doesn’t define you either.

from our January newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

Dear doomscrolling, doomspending, binging…
please be gentle with me this year

Lately, I’ve noticed a familiar cast of characters resurfacing—old coping behaviours from past versions of myself, barging in like they’re the main stars of the show. They’ve brought along their usual companions: unsolicited waves of intense, complex emotions, with no proper space to hold it all.

For many of us, patterns we’ve worked so hard to unlearn are making a comeback. These habits of distraction and numbing aren’t random—they’re our nervous systems doing what they know best: shielding us from overwhelm. It’s an act of self-protection, even if it doesn’t always help in the long run.

𓅰 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯 

everything everywhere all at once  

In a single week, we had to process:

• Genocides, ecocides, scholasticides, dehumanization, forced displacement (Sudan, Congo, Tigray, Syria need our advocacy and solidarity!), all while there's finally a temporary ceasefire and no end to the occupation in Palestine.

• LA fires, rekindling existential dread as we confront our fractured relationship with the land and the ongoing climate crisis.

• Political upheaval, left our neighbour country grappling with the absurdity of a tiktok ban, while contending with the reality of oligarchic control over us both.

• Red note migration, stirring of complex emotions within the Chinese diaspora, as past experiences of sinophobia has no room to process (this is called disenfranchised grief: grief that goes unacknowledged/unvalidated by social norms).

• An unshakable, overwhelming sense of falling behind—where even the algorithm pushes content on us so we feel stuck in an echo chamber.

Your tolerance for stress may be high. But is it sustainable?

 tolerating ≠ growing pains

Our brains are on overdrive, constantly bombarded by crises, notifications, and demands pulling us in every direction. When we operate outside our window of tolerance for too long, our nervous systems (aka. mind and body connection) can shut down, creating the illusion that we simply need to keep tolerating it.

But this constant urgency makes it harder to hear our true voices amid the noise. While distraction might offer temporary relief, it can deepen the cycle of disconnection.

Being good at carrying burdens and tolerating beyond our limits,
without understanding how much we can handle,
is part of the growing pains of healing.

 🌿 nature trusts its growing pains 

- can you trust yours?

Nature doesn’t second-guess, resist, or judge its cycles of growth. It simply adapts, evolves, and unfolds, remains steadfast in its rhythm.

Here's some good news, we ARE like nature: every week, we learn something new that helps us grow beyond who we thought we were—breaking free from the limits of systemic oppression and our own ego (they call them ego deaths for a reason!).

Oh, to be one with nature… or perhaps we can just mirror it

🪞 What if we mirrored nature’s trust in the self? 🤍✨

🌀 can we stay curious and present with our own unfolding?

🌀 can we value both the painful and joyful experiences that shape us?

🌀 can we learn to trust what we create and nurture our own seasons of growth?

Nature doesn’t rush or resist.

It embraces transformation with grace.

So what if we took our visceral cues from nature's elements?

Here’s an art as therapy prompt to step out of the noise and reconnect with your inner pacing

Journal, create art, poetry, or simply reflect and imagine:

🌿 If you were a part of nature, what realm would you belong to? 
☘︎ Would you embody the wisdom of an ancient forest? 
☘︎ The rhythmic energy and motion of oceanic waves? 
☘︎ The mystical germination of desert blooms?

🌿 What would it look, feel, and sound like?

from our newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

Maybe you can tell by now that 'dreamy nostalgia' is a core element of our therapy practice's identity. Lately, I've been exploring playfulness and cuteness not just as a look or an aesthetic, but as forms of resistance, rebellion, love, and radicalism.

Below are some reflections I put together!

The power of cute has not been explored enough.

In my search, I found it to be so odd that most articles that researched on cuteness were critiques of cuteness: infantilization, magical thinking, fetishization, being in denial as an adult, or packaged as simpler times.

Note: to be fair, I only searched the internet in the english language...

When I think about cuteness, it aligns with the most resilient parts of my current adult self and the purest parts of the younger versions of myself.

Cuteness is a point where I get to come closer to my personal interests without shame and embarrassment, liberating parts of me without oppressive restrictions like age-limit, how to dress or act or what’s appropriate or legit/professional.

Here are 4 thoughts on cuteness as resistance that can light us up:

1. cuteness as camoflauge:

when talking about serious topics like historical trauma, racism, or transphobia...

cuteness aids in politicizing conversations and reflections in a digestable, resonating and nostalgic way.

Cuteness helps us critique, question, reflect how we've been socialized, while mixing in elements of play.

2. cuteness is kitsch:

Kitsch is a German word for ‘worthless trashy art’, critiquing the quality of the art

Cuteness is our mark on decolonizing what art can be instead of art ‘should be’. It challenges the traditional ‘fine’ arts, dismantle and unarm systemic rules.

Cuteness helps folks tap in the power of making ‘bad art’.

Who knew that a sense of playfulness and absurdity can help realign my creative practice for pleasure and expression as a fundamental human right.

3. in postmodernism:

Cuteness helps me dream of a reality that makes sense.

Because a world that’s a dumpster fire isn’t cute and not going to cut it.

It helps me sustain optimism and conduct small acts of resistance through orienting to the playful parts of life and imagination.

4. Cuteness as relief

Cuteness charges our energy in the realm of healing.

Cuteness inspires us to connect with the softness, gentleness, kindness, loveliness which embodies safe moments so we don’t disconnect from the heaviness of everyday struggles.

It's probably why corporate workers love cute animal videos and memes to get through the day.

Resources that inspired my research:

• Cute affectivism: radical uses of the cuteness affect among activists and artists by Ingeborg Hasselgren

• @umeboi's tiktoks and reflections on kitsch in contemporary art and cuteness