Sunday, May 17, 2026
There was a time when therapy looked a lot different for me. It looked like random lunch dates with my girlfriends in the middle of the work week, stopping by somebody’s office just long enough to exchange one look before both of us started laughing, or quick “you busy?” texts after a stressful meeting. Back then, most of my family and closest girlfriends lived nearby. We were all balancing work, relationships, deadlines, and adulthood together in real time. Sometimes the conversations were serious. Sometimes they were completely unserious. Either way, laughter was always involved. And honestly? Laughter has always been therapy for me.
Several years ago, I moved away for work and opportunity. Like a lot of people, I made the decision believing I was building a better quality of life for my family. Less traffic. Lower cost of living. Better schools. More peace. On paper, it made complete sense. And truthfully, in many ways, it was the right decision. But what nobody talks about enough is the emotional trade-off that sometimes comes with starting over somewhere new. The quiet distance between you and the people who once helped make life feel lighter.
As I get older, I’ve realized I genuinely enjoy solitude. I like peace. I like quiet mornings and slower weekends. I like water features and backyard gardening. I like coffee on the deck watching the sunrise and wine in the evenings watching the sunset. That kind of thing. But distance has also taught me there’s a difference between enjoying solitude and missing your people. Because no matter how independent you become, there’s something healing about being around people who knew you before the stress, before the polished professionalism, before adulthood became one long calendar invitation.
So now, in between work schedules, different cities, and life moving faster than any of us expected, we have the group chat. One minute we’re discussing workplace drama, the next minute somebody’s sharing vacation ideas, binge worth shows, movie critiques, and then suddenly we’re deep into conversations about relationships, burnout, family, office politics, and whether any of us actually know what we’re doing anymore. Sometimes it’s serious. Sometimes it’s hilarious. Most times it’s both. But underneath all the jokes is something deeper: support. Real support. The kind that reminds you other women are carrying versions of the same weight too.
And somehow the group chat became its own form of therapy. Oddly enough, fashion gives me that same feeling sometimes. It became therapeutic for me too. Not in the superficial “buy more things” kind of way, but in the creative sense. The same way some people garden, decorate, paint, journal, or rearrange furniture when life feels heavy. There’s something calming about playing with color combinations, textures, accessories, boots, bags, or even trying to style pieces you’ve owned for years in a completely different way. Fashion gives you room to reinvent yourself without having to completely reinvent your life. Some days it’s less about getting dressed and more about restoring a certain kind of energy.
Honestly, I think we survive a lot more whether through shared laughter or style inspiration, than people realize.
To be continued…
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