Month: September 2026

Our first class in counseling school was all about yoga and other mind/body practices. 

There is good reason for this.

Many mental health concerns are bi-directional in nature.

What does this mean?

Here’s an example:

If we are sedentary for a significant period of time, we might experience depressive symptoms, even if we are not clinically depressed. We might feel down, blue, lethargic, unmotivated. Now for the other direction: If I am already depressed, I might not move much. I might become sedentary, which does nothing to help with my depression.

Another way to think of it: 

Move anyway!

Your Future Self Will Thank You

As we work toward healing depression and anxiety, it’s best to address physical health concerns. It’s wise to take action in our lives in whatever way we are able. We don’t wait to be depression-free before acting. It’s hard, I know. And for some of us, it is extremely difficult. With support and determination, it can be done. Your future self will thank you. When some of the depression lifts, or the anxiety subsides, you will have that degree, that job, that level of physical wellbeing that you can be happy with. Getting up and moving is the first step toward wellness.

If you aren’t ready to go out and take a class, you might find some wonderful teachers online. We can go over simple poses in session as well; this is where my background as a movement teacher can come in handy. 

It’s o.k. to keep it simple at first. Set a timer for 5 minutes, and make some pleasurable movements, do some gentle stretching. Think about how a cat moves, how it stretches for the sheer pleasure of it. If you aren’t sure what is safe for your body, you might be in a position to work with a trainer, or again you are welcome to bring your concerns and questions to session. 

A Simple Movement to Lift Your Mood

Here’s a simple suggestion you can try right now (Be sure to make the movements as big or small as you think they should be based on your comfortable range of motion):

1) Stand up! Or sit up a bit straighter. (Doesn’t that already feel good? You are making room for your breath.)

2) Reach your arms downward, then breathe in as you sweep them out and up until your hands meet overhead.

3) Breathe out as you draw your hands down to your chest.

4) Take a nice deep breath, and let it go.

5) Place your hands one on top of the other over your heart, and take another deep breath in.

Let it all go. Pause. Breathe.

Rinse, repeat. 

Maybe 3 times. 

Pro tip: It’s also o.k. to just breathe when you breathe. Let it be natural and comfortable.

See what feels good. Listen to your body. And if you aren’t able to connect with that concept right now, let’s discuss that in session. There’s a wonderful practice of “interoception” which has to do with observing what is happening inside the body, and this is a skill that can be cultivated. Now that you’ve finished reading this, I hope you’ll be motivated to move a bit. Take a short walk, or a deep breath. Namaste!

When a loved one disappears

Grief met me in the waiting room of my dentist’s office one morning a few years ago, when a woman sat down in the chair next to mine. This surprised me, because we were the only two people in the large waiting area. I noticed her looking at me, and as soon as I caught her eye she started in on a story about her nephew, who had gone out hiking and never came back.

She was upset, obsessed, bereft. She told me she could not rest, and she felt no peace. She handed me a flyer with a photo of the young man, who had been missing for months. Later that day I did an Internet search and found articles about his ill-fated hike. I thought of his aunt and her raw pain, and how she was consumed with the idea—the hope— of finding him.

This type of loss can take over our lives, leaving us with a sense of dread and pervasive sadness. When someone we love disappears, we may fear additional losses. It becomes painfully clear that we have limited control, limited power to keep our loved ones close, or to keep them safe. 

Ambiguous loss offers no closure. We are left brokenhearted and confused. Ambiguous loss is open-ended, so it is hard to imagine relief. Others around us get on with their lives, move on, forget. But we aren’t sure what to do; do we grieve even though the person might come back? 

Subtle losses, lonely grieving

Ambiguous loss is not always as dramatic or easily spotted as in the example above. Especially if it occurred early in life, we might not identify a loss as such. In the case of adoption, for example, or the loss of a twin in utero, we know or suspect that something is missing, but we might not know what. Sometimes parents quietly divorce, without explaining the process to their children.

Ambiguous loss sometimes manifests as a change that we can’t quite put our finger on. The quiet movement of aging, a growing distance in a relationship, a dwindling interest in something that used to light up our mind. We may experience a slow, barely perceptible change in identity, sexuality, health, cognitive ability, or values. We come to realize that we have lost interest in our religion, or that an important friendship is fading. Or is it? When precisely did this occur, and how?

Filling the void when grief takes over

Living with ambiguity can be isolating. We might feel we are looking at others through a pane of glass. We might not be able to find joy in family gatherings, soccer matches, or a great movie. A fog of dissociation sets in, a sense of alienation from life, from others. There is a tendency to look for “signs,” to expend enormous amounts of energy longing, searching, and fantasizing. Visits to astrologers, mediums, psychics of all stripes may ensue. A profound creativity can develop, as well as unexpected proclivities for perception beyond the norm: heightened intuition and even telepathy, and prescient dreams and visions. What seem like mystical experiences or a preternatural talent for reaching deep meditative states may actually be the result of a lack of containment and groundedness. Part of the mind is “out there,” always searching. Under this spell of longing for the missing, one is never quite present. 

Life does go on, in spite of the loneliness and constant heartache. Therapy can help, because it provides a place of non-judgment where the therapist listens and holds space and is sad with you, but is not overwhelmed by your sadness. The guilt and shame that can accompany ambiguous loss can be processed in therapy. Little by little a sense of being real returns, the fantasies calm down, and the bare agony of loss is faced. The grief remains, but we cultivate the strength to live with the terrible reality that what is missing may never be found, or regained. Yet somehow (call it the human spirit!) it is possible to find oneself and to feel whole once again.