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We live in a world obsessed with green smoothies, collagen powders, and gym selfies. But let me hit you with something deeper: You can’t smoothie your way out of unresolved trauma. No matter how clean your diet is, if your brain is wired for fear, shame, overthinking, and self-sabotage, that avocado toast won’t fix a […]

We all obsess over gym routines and green juices, as if sculpted abs are the answer to everything. But you know what’s far more powerful than a six-pack? A six-pack of neural circuits, your brain, that is. When you train your mind, you transform your reactions, your energy, and your entire outlook on life. And

When I first picked up A General Theory of Love, I didn’t expect it to put words to my own childhood. But it did, in a way no self-help book ever managed. Not with fluffy advice. But with cold, clear science. Three psychiatrists, Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini, and Richard Lannon, wrote this book. Not poets.

For as long as I can remember, my healing journey has been a winding road paved with heartbreak and resilience. Twice, I found myself standing on the edge of life, ready to let go, yet here I am, looking back at the most profound source of my pain: my relationship with my mother. I was

Growing up, I often felt helpless and unprotected. My mother, whom I lived with after my parents’ separation, would side with extended family even when they pointed fingers at me or caused me harm. Every time I needed her to stand up for me, she didn’t. Instead, she favored them. This repeated betrayal left deep

Have you ever caught yourself trapped in the same painful memory, playing it over and over like a scene from a movie you never wanted to watch in the first place? You tell yourself to stop thinking about it, to move on, but your brain doesn’t listen. It feels like the past has a grip