There’s a version of me my kids will never meet — and thank God for that.

There was a time when I walked into rooms and tried to become whatever version of me would make people most comfortable.

Not because I didn’t know who I was — but because I thought that was the safest way to move through the world.

There’s something sacred about sitting with someone in their most unfiltered moment. It’s not something I take lightly — and it’s not something I’ll ever stop honoring.

But if we’re going to do this healing thing together — you deserve the real story.

It’s not because it’s trendy. It’s not because I think you need one more thing to add to your already overwhelming to-do list. And it’s definitely not because it’s cute.

I ask you to journal because I know what happens when we don’t let things out.

Unspoken thoughts become pressure. Pushed-down pain becomes physical. Avoided emotions? They turn into patterns — the kind that sneak into your relationships, your confidence, your body, your sleep.

If you’re looking for a therapist who nods quietly and never shows emotion — I’m not her.

If you’re looking for someone who keeps their distance, asks how you feel without ever saying much back, and wraps every hard truth in a soft, palatable bow — I’m not her either.

I used to want to be the one everyone liked.

The easy one.
The one who never rocked the boat.
The one who could walk into any room and make everyone feel comfortable.

And I did it well —Until I realized how much of myself I was abandoning in the process.

There are a million journals out there. Some are cute. Some are quiet. Some are filled with “What are you grateful for today?” and “Take three deep breaths” — and that’s fine.

But that’s not what these are.

STG Wellness journals are different. They weren’t made for you to check a box. They weren’t made to sit unopened on your nightstand. They were built to cut through the noise.

There was never a single moment where I decided to create a journal series. It came together slowly — through conversations in my office, stories from women I’ve worked with, things I’ve lived myself, and the deep knowing that so many of us are walking around looking “fine” while quietly falling apart.

She’s the one who remembers birthdays. Keeps the household running. Checks in on her friends. Shows up at work, on time, getting sh*t done. Handles her kids. Her partner. Her aging parents. Smiles at the cashier. Texts “How can I help?” when someone else is struggling.

You don’t need another voice telling you to drink more water or manifest your peace. You need someone who sees through the “I’m fine.” Someone who understands what it means to carry too much for too long. Someone who believes in healing out loud — not just holding it in.

You know her.

Hell — you might be her.

She’s the one who:
• Always shows up, even when she’s running on empty.
• Smiles through the stress, keeps the peace, never lets her guard down.
• Puts everyone else’s needs ahead of her own.
• Says “I’m fine” before you can even finish asking how she’s doing.

I started STG Wellness because I know what it feels like to carry a thousand thoughts in your head and a hundred emotions in your body — and not know where the hell to put them.

I started it because writing has always been my way through. Not just a hobby. Not a coping skill. A lifeline.

Since I was seven years old — right in the middle of my parents’ divorce — journaling became the one place where I could finally tell the truth. No filters. No fear. No one telling me I was too much. Just a blank page and all the things I couldn’t say out loud yet.

There comes a day — usually after you’ve held your breath for way too long — when something inside you just snaps. You don’t faint. You don’t scream. You don’t run away. You decide.

You decide you’re done performing. Done being the strong one. The peacemaker. The overachiever. The woman who holds it all together while quietly falling apart. And if you’re anything like me, that moment doesn’t come with clarity.

It comes with rage. And grief. And a voice inside whispering: “I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

We don’t always hear the first warning. Or the second. Or the hundredth.

Because women — especially the high-functioning, get-sh*t-done, never-ask-for-help kind — are experts at pushing through.

We keep working when we’re exhausted. We keep smiling when we’re unraveling. We keep saying “I’m fine” when our body is screaming, You’re not.

There was a time in my life when I’d open my eyes and my very first thought was: When can I get back in bed? I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t physically injured. I just didn’t want to be awake. I didn’t want to “do the day.” I wasn’t living — I was enduring.

There’s a moment that hits — sometimes like a whisper, sometimes like a punch in the gut — when you realize:

You’ve been going through the motions.

You’ve been checking the boxes.

You’ve been living on autopilot.

There’s a story many of us were raised with — one that says life has to be hard, that healing only counts if it hurts, and that ease is a luxury reserved for people with fewer responsibilities. But what if that story is a lie?

There’s a moment in nearly every journal I’ve created where the real shit hits the page. It’s the moment you stop editing your truth. The moment you write the thing you swore you’d never say out loud. And I know—because I’ve lived it.

There comes a moment when the discomfort of staying quiet outweighs the fear of speaking your truth.

I’ve lived it — both personally and professionally. As a clinician, I’ve sat across from women unraveling decades of conditioning, women terrified of disrupting the peace, of being labeled “too much,” “too emotional,” or “too complicated.” And as a woman myself, I’ve made the decision to walk away from relationships, patterns, and expectations that were crushing my spirit.