quick note: this blog post is not written by AI. The writing below features ideas and wisdom of artists, personal journalling and newsletter writing, curated to what a therapist feels the world is needing these days. 

from our newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

What does it take to feel our enough-ness these days?

Lately in therapy sessions, in conversations with friends and family, and while recording the self-directed workshop series in collab with @friendlybureau on healing money (made for children of immigrants and working-class folks), I keep sensing a common thread. That we’re all experiencing a quiet, complex grief, each in our own way.

And one symptom that festers is the feeling of being stuck on a hamster wheel of proving.

There’s this unrelenting pressure to stay urgent, distracted, productive. Proving to others, yes—but if I’m unbearably honest, we’re trying to prove to ourselves that we’re enough.

My nervous system is so often on edge, caught in a cycle of not being there for myself enough—not resting enough, not reaching out enough, not building the right kind of structure. Always chasing a version of 'enough' that was never mine to begin with. These 'enoughs' don’t align with the values I want to bring into the world, or with what truly matters to me.

But when I slow down even just a bit, I become increasingly curious:
Do we know what our enough is?

Has it been named, clarified, or felt?

If we don’t know what enough is—how can we feel the enough?

When is enough... enough?
What even is ‘enough’?

Is the ‘enough’ we’re chasing actually important to us?

The attention economy: colonization of the mind

 It’s becoming harder to tell the difference between what we actually need and what the internet insists we should do.

Like taping my mouth shut so I don’t mouth breathe at night. Or doing facial yoga because I’ve been told my smile lines are deepening.

Each effort, well-intentioned, chips away at my energy: time feels tighter to the point where I want to hide in a dark cave, just to escape from all the noise.

Because there’s no actual importance, softness, appreciation of my life energy.

And that’s not even the life I want.

What if we could see that our body is trying its best—working so hard to meet the demands of the culture we live in?

Gentle reminders for you and me

 When we disconnect from our dreams, from presence—that’s a signal that we’re drifting from our body, our vitality, our aliveness.

Starting is enough.
Connecting our mind and body to witness how we react to the instability, unsustainable practices from these uncertain times, is enough. Like paying attention to our breath, we don’t have to change anything.

I believe that our bodies know deep down what doesn't matter to us and what actually matters.

What matters could be being witnessed, cared for, getting recognition or loved by those we hold close.

Maybe what matters is being of service because that is what heals us too.

Living with meaning, with pleasure, or with living dreams!

What if our collective aliveness is already in you—beneath the noise, quietly patiently waiting for you? 

When we confront the truth that we’re not here forever, something softens.

What if you are not existing and came all the way here to be excellent, but simply to connect?
To try.
To show up just as you are.
To bring something that matters to your soul.
To reach for life.

 
And as you find your way through all the noise...
you discover that you’re still enough.

 And that enoughness doesn’t define you either.

from our November newsletter, written by Linda Lin, RCC, CCC, RCAT

In my previous blog post on generational diaspora, I mentioned I was visiting my mother’s homeland, China, for the first time in over a decade! It took me a few weeks to sit with this journey before writing about it.

This trip involved much more emotional processing than rational processing. Feeling our emotions in this way can be challenging, and from my experience in the therapy room, it often only comes after we’ve built enough trauma-informed language and awareness.

What’s the difference? Rational processing is structured and analytical, focused on collecting information and making critical deductions about what happened. Feeling processing, however, is experiential—it’s about listening to and working with what comes up, viscerally. It’s when we start noticing signs that have been there all along: sensations in our breath, a gnawing in our gut, the energy we pick up, and a pull toward creating new, supportive cycles for our body.

Feeling lost? I was—and probably still am. Words didn't come easily to describe this deeply sensory experience. Here are some emerging themes as I sat on the images I created from my trip:

Chapter 1: The play.

The impacts of historical imperial violence are complex, and when passed down through ancestral lineage, it lands differently from person-to-person in different points in their lives…yet they feel familiar. 

As a Chinese person born outside of China, I found it challenging to fully embody the audience's cultural resistance. This surprised me, considering I feel deeply in other spaces. It prompted me to reflect on what I may have internalized from the West—and how numb I must've felt during the play. This numbness might hint at open wounds, unprocessed grief, and the overwhelming sensation of feeling too much without a concrete anchor for my intersecting identities.

To all the children of immigrants navigating multiple cultures and facing relational tensions due to generational cultural gaps—how are you all holding up?

Everything is political - including my identity.

Identity conflicts have felt especially confusing throughout the trip. The harbouring of internalized sinophobia stemming from Western political narratives about China feels practically acceptable in today’s world (& with elections in the atmosphere). Unfortunately and to no surprise, I encountered a lack of engagement and curiosity about my trip from some friends. 

These encounters have prompted me to reflect deeply on my own journey with internalized sinophobia. Internalized racism functions as a product of unresolved trauma—a cycle of harm and violence rooted in politically engineered oppression.

The layers of kin-based harm and wounds of what could’ve been.

So I found out from my trip that my partner’s extended family members love each other, like sincerely. It's like the kind of love bell hooks talked about in her book, all about love. The kind of love with all 7 components: care, affection, recognition, respect, commitment, and trust, honesty and open communication. They've got a 75-person WeChat group, more than half of the group located in the city dine together every weekend and near 90-year-olds would keep the vibrant energy by playing mahjong into the early hours. They welcomed us with open arms, unconditional warmth and support. 

A few days later, I visited my mother’s side in a different province after 20 years and I was struck by anxiety and generational cycles playing out before me. I gave myself permission to bawl, allowing space to grapple with parts of myself that felt wronged by the stark contrasts in family dynamics and kinship.

It began to dawn on me that the heart of emotional processing wasn’t just about healing; it is about connection. 

Connection and care for the younger versions of myself, connection to parts of my culture and identity I want to keep discovering, and connection to kin who, in their imperfect ways, still attempt to show up for each other.

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