written and filmed by Linda Lin, RCC RCAT

For those who enjoy longer-form content to pair with my newsletters and blog posts, I've just launched a YouTube channel where I'll be talking through topics I'm exploring and sharing in a different format.

Since 2019, something feels like it has shifted societally and relationally. Not to dampen the mood, but it feels important to name. In the therapy room, we’ve been witnessing deep feelings of nihilism, resentment, and disconnection. There’s been so much ghosting instead of closure or generative feedback, and more counter-relational ways of coping that seem rooted in fear.

We seem to be moving toward a culture where loneliness is managed through posting rather than personally reaching out. There’s such a fear of being alone, or of worst-case-scenario loneliness, yet many people still feel profoundly lonely within their relationships and communities.

Relationships, limerence, and the search for belonging and community already feel difficult to navigate. And now there are new Instagram features (like previewing stories without ‘seeing it'; create multiple story audiences, story rewatch insights…) rolling out that honestly scare the shit out of us. What do you mean there’s a paid version of IG where you can make a story appear like it’s for all your followers, while actually singling it out for the one person you’ve lost sleep over?

With so much of our lives happening digitally, passively, there’s a growing disorientation, grief, and a kind of anguish around how we relate to each other, and whether the versions of ourselves that knew how to belong still exist.

In this post and video, we're sitting with a question: how do we return to being genuinely relational? Things like tolerating feedback, knowing when to set boundaries, and being willing to move through the messiness and discomfort that real relationships ask of us.

This past month, I held many conversations with peers, friends, colleagues exploring relational patterns we're seeing in the therapy room and beyond, bringing in discourse on artificial intelligence and relationships. These talks sparked both grief and a sense of relief in me. Grief and relief in finally having a container to hold and express these reactions, a similar feeling to a canvas sturdy enough to carry all the layers we want to express.

“Avoidance is a way to stay close to the fantasy while staying far from the truth. You want a peak, the how-to, but you don’t want to be the one who does it (first).” – Care from Erotics of Liberation

What is the thing that never gets said?

Something interesting about this era we're in, whether we like it or not, is how both artificial intelligence and digital proximity can offer a kind of artificial sense of security. Artificial intelligence is a prediction model, generating responses based on patterns of what is likely. With AI, there's comfort in the idea that there is always an answer. But when we use it as a mediator in relational conflict, or as a response to feel like we are desired and right about something… the response it generates is shaped by the context we give it, drawn from patterns in its training and what's publicly available, rather than from immediacy. 

Immediacy is when we practice naming what the air feels like between us, right now. When we speak to the pattern of how we're relating: what's alive in the room, what's being carried but not said. It's making space to address the space between: the tension, the coldness, the defensiveness, the avoidance.

What opens from immediacy is a spectrum of feelings, warmth, closeness, connection, care. The willingness to name what's hard is what makes room for what's tender.

That awareness, reciprocity and attunement, and courage to take something so subtle seriously, is what builds trust between people.

In the relational realm, when things feel uncertain and we don't have the spoons to meet that uncertainty, a deep fear can surface. A fear of rejection, of not being wanted, of being truly seen in a vulnerable way. We start to experience emotional mind games, where it becomes unclear who holds the ball and whose court we're in.

This spills into how we sense belonging too, and how we numb out or sidestep responsibility when relationships get strained. In an era of artificial proximity, how do we resist that pull toward desensitization? How do we stay genuinely open to each other when so much of our connection is simulated? Can we choose to stay more intentionally, more carefully, and keep building something real even when it gets hard?

As our team member Natasha puts it, it takes less than two minutes to reply to a friend, and we can do it from anywhere: in bed, on a walk, or on the toilet. It just takes some getting used to.

The challenge is how we stay in the here-and-now and trust our own knowing. I want to offer a gentle nudge: we carry so much more context than we give ourselves credit for, and the brain builds neuroplasticity when we challenge it to hold nuance, as we do when we navigate relational concerns.

Thanks for tuning in, friend ✮⋆˙

written and filmed by Linda Lin, RCC RCAT

For those who enjoy longer-form content to pair with my newsletters and blog posts, I've just launched a YouTube channel where I'll be talking through topics I'm exploring and sharing in a different format.

I hope this newsletter finds you in moments where time feels like a meadow, or where you’re nestled somewhere you really like.

This time last year, my friend Leah challenged me to take a full month off work while we were creating our healing money anxiety art therapy course. The relevance of this exposure alone shook me. We travelled to China together, but I couldn’t honour the non-working part.

Then, an intrusive thought that was supposed to pop in and out, came true: Decipher was in crisis. Our studio was reported to be flooded by rainwater 3 days after I left for my break. I put on that leadership hat as the practice founder and parentified eldest daughter, replying to bureaucratic calls, took on some clients on the whim, 4am in China Standard Time. The anxiety voice insisted that I had to fulfill these roles and expectations to get through this. My mind locked in by crisis managing even though I was trying really hard to take a break.

In major contrast, one of the essence goals that made it onto my 2026 bingo card was to go analog. On my bingo card, I had written that I wanted to take two months off work (!!), wean off screens, and spend more time with analog media like filming for fun, and returning to things I really love → liberating imagination and creativity, unlocking maps of the world, and taking in philosophical pauses.

"Nature does not hurry yet everything is accomplished" - Lao Tzu

Fig.1 among a field of canola flowers in Jingdezhen

So what happens on a full month on analog?

There was more of whatever this feeling is: "the next step appears because we moved, not because we tried to make sense of it first” and building on roles outside of being a therapist.

Procedural learning. I didn’t consciously notice it during my break, but after last year’s office flood incident and after co-creating a course on healing money wounds, going analog naturally helped me step out of crisis responding rooted in fear. I fully stepped out of my usual role of monitoring emails and everything happening back at home. This allowed my body to implicitly learn that not everyone and everything is dependent on me, and leadership doesn’t look like constant vigilance.

I’ve always loved philosophy of culture and in ethnography. Arriving in Lijiang, Yunnan, for the 2nd time (my 1st was last year), I interviewed my mom, who had finally returned to her birthplace for the first time in over 60 years (after years of me urging her to reconnect with her roots). I dug up books and history around my family's lineage (a NaXi clan from Lijiang) who lost their wealth during the cultural revolution and ethnic minority cleansing. Hence complex money wounds and inherited anxiety. More of this in the upcoming newsletter!

Going rogue/off screens helped me see the world in another way. Like adopting rituals that support me to experience the flow and pace I’ve been craving. From fight and flight → rest and digest, without binary lines.

Fig.2 West Lake, Hangzhou — golden hour on the water

The month was full of creative, liberating moments like doing things just for fun! I noticed my creative voice sparking with more confidence (stepping out no matter how dressed up I am, dancing midway when a song gets stuck in my head, cracking jokes without filtering). There was less pressure to take things seriously or shape myself around a specific image or identity (like a “therapist” or “the older sister”), or to meet the demands of the algorithm. In these moments, my attention feels like it is sacred and actually belongs to me again.

Going analog helped me create glitches in the system. Capitalism handed all of us a bag of rocks and told us “this is the kit we need to survive”. Grasping onto internalized strategies like ableism, production and optimization over welfare, fatphobia, or taking time here on Earth too seriously… aren’t things I actually value. They’re inherited. Forcefully fed. Learned and rehearsed from a place of fear. Even though internalized thoughts will still appear through the course, I can discern what's mine more clearly and that makes the time I spend with myself so much easier.

I felt the depth of this: diligence without context isn't discipline, it's constant numbing and busywork. The goal was never to optimize myself into exhaustion. It's always been ease, alignment and a slightly unhinged feeling of being genuinely, embarrassingly alive.
 

This month felt like a different pace: a kind of attention and a life that doesn’t need to be constantly monitored to be lived. I honoured this principle, "说到做到" translation “following through with my promises” throughout the walk.

I don’t think going fully analog is the point. 

I’m more curious about what parts of this I’ll carry forward.

And for now, that’s enough. 😌

Putting these feelings into words for you, in case you haven’t already named them for yourself.

Thanks for tuning in, friend ✮⋆˙

written by Linda Lin, RCC RCAT

FEAR is the number 1 theme I’ve been witnessing throughout therapy sessions these days. 

A lot of us are going back to survival mode, while the western world of psychology calls this ‘dysregulation’. Whether it’s dealing with sudden major life transitions, many times out of our control, to the rapid changes of living in the world today, fear comes up hard and fast.

As a client calls it, "honestly our brain is just a meat sac with electricity".

Our brains get mushy and our feelings feel complicated when fear shows up. I see us grabbing at straws, searching for immediate relief, for answers, solutions, quick fixes as we navigate this territory. Then we try to cope with everything at once, and we end up self-sabotaging or freezing in overwhelm when things don’t go the way anxiety wants them to.

It doesn't have to be like that. 

Life shouldn't feel THIS complicated.

Here's how I am facing feelings like fear!

(in relevance to dealing with 2026, year of the fire horse)

1. Reminding myself, feelings aren't facts.

What if we didn't treat feelings, fear, rage, disgust, contempt, irritation, dislikes as verdicts? 

Imagine what it’d be like if we didn’t treat feelings as hard labels, like “this is just who I am” or “this is how things will always be”, but as guidance we can listen to, not obey.

Feelings always signal what matters to us.
They point to our unmet needs, unclaimed desires, and the ideas or beliefs we never consciously chose.

Kinda like when we're driving and we see a sign (the feeling) that says “slippery roads ahead”. This doesn't mean that we are bound to slip and fall so we gotta turn around and go home. We can drive or walk through with care, be mindful to go a little slower, or stay on parts of the road that feel safer.
 

I'd like to believe that feelings are always trying their best to guide us toward what hurts, what matters, and what needs care. They’re asking for our attention and trust.

At its very core, feelings want us to remember that we matter — that we are deserving of understanding, even when listening to this might change everything we once believed.

Pause for a moment. Take a breath.

Notice how these words land for you before you continue reading.

ᯓ :ִ ࣪✩ ݁∶⊹˖ᯓ⭑ᯓ :ִ ࣪✮ ݁∶ ᯓ :ִ ࣪✧ ݁∶

2. Practice the art of decision making.
 

Act before courage feels perfect. What if we focused on honesty instead of busyness, or the pressure to make everything “just right,” as if we were performing for a critical audience?

Building awareness. When we slow down, we can see ourselves more clearly like our values, desires, what we care for, and the unique energy we bring into the world. 

Part of presence building is slowing down and taking courage toward attempting. We don’t have to go far or move fast. The focus is more of that simple noticing and listening to what we need in the moment.
 

Practices like art journaling, using stickers and prompts, bibliotherapy and building in small rewards or celebrations, like a Big Paper Planning Day, have helped me build the courage to simply start. 

3. Your goals need to be neuro-informed!

Hate to break it to ya but did you know SMART goals increases fear and anxiety?

SMART goals may sound clear, functional, reasonable and responsible (due to surviving under a capitalist system)
…but people find that SMART goals work hand in hand with their anxiety and cognition instead of our energy and noticing what is happening in the present moment. 

An example like, “I have to go to the gym 5x this week.”
Our brain will do this thing by adding extra rules with it. 
“No matter what.” 
“Push harder than yesterday.” 
“Okay now increase the sets by 5%.”
Before we know it, the goal stops feeling motivating and we can't put ourselves to actually do it.

So why does demanding X amount by a certain time, in a specific way, make us anxious and self-critical?

It’s similar to how we overcomplicate our art, writing, and projects. We are trained to take pride in being driven by anxiety, perfectionism, the need to “look busy,” thinking that more effort will better ourselves so that we could finally meet our goals. 

Deep down, we know that all that pressure, all that busy-work rarely moves the needle and most often than not, we become frozen by overwhelm and FEAR.

That's because SMART goals originated from a place that was NEVER meant to be used for personal development! ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

SMART goals started as a management tool for organizations and the C-suite. It wasn’t built for emotional well-being since the beginning, but to keep employees in check.

Did you know? The A in SMART originally stood for Assignable, not Achievable 😒 That’s why they land so cognitively, cold, performance-obsessed when we apply them to day-to-day goals we have for ourselves. 
 

For many of us, SMART goals lead to disappointment, lower self-esteem, and spike our anxiety. Say we’re low in energy, but we set these goals when we were high in hope. The same SMART goals can then make us feel disappointed, “not good enough,” or “inconsistent” when life doesn’t go exactly as planned.

TLDR; SMART goals weren’t made in accommodation to emotional wellbeing, neurodivergence, context to our current energy level, or to nuances and sensitivities, and when times are multi-faceted (feeling collective despair as an example).

4. Our identity builds when we see ourselves as consistent.

When we show up consistently, even in small ways, our sense of self starts to feel real, and fear becomes less relevant. Self‑perception forms when we are a certain way because we have acted that way repeatedly. 

Like when we set boundaries consistently, and it strengthens the way we see ourselves, while sustaining our relationships. A win-win-win!?!

Research shows that when our actions align with our values on a regular basis, the brain strengthens neural pathways that reinforce our self-image over time. Consistency isn’t about perfection, it’s about building a reliable story of who we are.

5. Simplify everything with essence goals.

Essence goals sound almost too simple, but they actually work. Instead of overcomplicating life with logic and overthinking, they guide us back to what really matters: our values and desires.

This is what essence means to me ↓

Essence is unwavering in self-advocacy and protection with unconditional acceptance of our values. 
Essence brings deep attunement like the way nature and land show up. Like a grounded tree or a portal accessing our intuition. 

I’d like to imagine that our essence has been with us our whole life.

 Essence goals are adaptive, discerning, and handles nuances. They focus on how we actually want to feel, live, and move through the world.

Instead of pushing past our capacities, we practice honouring our emotional reality!

Examples can look something like this:

“Move in ways that make me feel alive and strong this week.”

“Show up for my community with presence and solidarity.”

“Unplug easily and celebrate after each workday.”

So here’s to more moments of tuning into your innate wisdom (which is backed by science btw.ᐟ.ᐟ ) to support your emotional wellbeing.

Always in your corner,
Linda ♡