You Don’t Need Fixing—You’re Coming Home

There’s a kind of restlessness I see a lot in the therapy room.

It doesn’t always scream. It doesn’t always even speak clearly. But it hums. A low, constant buzz under the surface. Like a song you can’t quite name, but you know it by heart.

It sounds like:

“I’ve got a good life, but something feels off.”

“I’ve ticked the boxes—but I still feel stuck.”

“I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

That hum? It’s not failure. It’s not selfishness. It’s not your fault.

It’s the sound of your soul trying to find its way back to you.

The Drift

Most of us don’t lose ourselves in one dramatic moment. It happens slowly. Silently. A lifetime of being who we thought we should be.

You make the practical choices. You show up for everyone else. You mute the voice inside that says, what if there’s more?

And then one day, you wake up and realise you’re living a life that fits… but only just. Like wearing someone else’s coat. Familiar, but tight across the shoulders.

This is the ache beneath burnout. The itch behind anxiety. The grief that shows up without a name.

Not because you’ve broken something. But because you’ve buried something.

The Unravelling Isn’t the End

If any of this sounds like you—good. Not because it’s easy. But because it means something in you is waking up.

And waking up is messy.

You might feel disconnected. Restless. Bored even though your calendar’s full. Drawn to strange new things. Overwhelmed by the question “who even am I?”

That’s not a crisis. That’s initiation.

This is the space between roles and realness. Between what the world wanted from you and what you want from yourself.

Becoming Isn’t Reinvention

Let me be clear: you don’t need a total life overhaul.

You don’t need to burn everything down and start again.

You just need to start listening. To the part of you that wants to make something, or leave something, or try something weird and wonderful and wildly you.

That quiet whisper is the invitation. To return to yourself, not your “best self,” not your “most productive” self, but your truest one.

The one who still believes in music and movement and mornings that feel like new beginnings.

Where Therapy Comes In

Therapy isn’t a map. It won’t hand you a tidy five-year plan or turn your life into a Pinterest board.

But it will help you hear yourself again.

It’ll give you space to:

– Untangle the stories you’ve absorbed but never agreed to

– Build trust in your gut

– Breathe into the bits of your life that feel too tight

– Ask better questions (the real ones, not the polite ones)

It’s a place to say: “I want more.”Without shame. Without apology. Without needing to explain it to anyone else.

The Soft Reminder

You’re not behind.

You’re not broken.

You’re just in a season of becoming.

This isn’t selfish. This isn’t indulgent. This is sacred work.

The kind of work that doesn’t always look like progress. Sometimes it looks like stillness. Sometimes it looks like walking away. Sometimes it looks like crying on a forest path while a robin sings like it knows your whole story.

You’re not starting over.

You’re coming home.

Take a breath. You don’t have to have it all figured out. This is your reminder: you’re allowed to want something more. You’re allowed to change. You’re allowed to come home to yourself, slowly, messily, in your own time.

And if you want someone to walk that road with you—I'm here.

—Sarah x