by Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
Imagine you’re standing in a parking lot, just about to head into work, when you check your phone. There’s a message from your partner: They think they might be trans. They know a text isn’t ideal. That it might feel impersonal, but the words get stuck in their throat whenever they try to muster the courage to say something. Just writing that sentence took everything.
How might you feel in that situation? How do you imagine you would respond?
by Wanda Diep, LCSW.
Have you felt that lingering pang of guilt after feeling upset or even pissed the hell off at someone you care about deeply? Or frustrated when you notice feeling upset after something that’s “small” or “not worth getting emotional over”?
What you notice in these moments are called meta-emotions: feelings about your feelings. There are a few examples of these meta-emotions. Here are some of the most common I come across:
Guilt about feeling anger
Shame/embarrassment about experiencing jealousy (which can be viewed as a system of emotions, but that’s a conversation for another time).
Frustration with feeling sad, anxious, or “emotional”
Anxious about feeling anxious
Nervous about feeling happy
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
I often feel like the new year (and all of the hype around it) arrives like an overenthusiastic motivational speaker— there’s the banging of pots and pans, folks shouting about “fresh starts,” and insisting this is the year everything changes. So much noise. Meanwhile, I’m standing over here in my mismatched socks, feeling emotionally exhausted, and wondering if it’s acceptable for me to set my expectations somewhere between “survive” and “remember to drink water.”
I live with chronic depression. And living with depression has a way of muting the fireworks. No matter how big and beautiful those fireworks might be. While the calendar flips with explosions of confetti and enthusiastic countdowns, my brain tends to respond with a kind of cautious squint. Hope feels fragile. Light feels far away. And yet—annoyingly, persistently—January still shows up, asking me what I want from the new year.
by Wanda Diep, LCSW.
When it comes to building and strengthening meaningful relationships, mattering plays a huge role. It’s one thing to say “you matter to me,” but there’s a different sense of security when this is felt.
Back in the 1980s, a couple researchers by the names of McCullogh and Rosenberg broke down mattering into three parts: attention, importance and dependence. It’s updated now to a version of awareness, importance and reliance. Let’s look at the three components a little more closely:
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
We live in a world that seems to be moving faster each day—spinning with uncertainty, division, and painful change. Whether it’s the weight of global events, personal loss, or the quiet ache of feeling ungrounded, many of us are walking through life carrying more than we put into words. And in these moments—when the ground beneath us feels shaky—what we most long for is often what we most resist: compassion for ourselves.
Self-compassion is not a passive turning away from reality. It is not about excusing ourselves or avoiding discomfort. Rather, it is a courageous presence—a tender and honest attending to our own hearts. In the midst of inner and outer storms, it becomes a gateway to clarity, resilience, and peace.
by Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
Imagine you’re standing in a parking lot, just about to head into work, when you check your phone. There’s a message from your partner: They think they might be trans. They know a text isn’t ideal. That it might feel impersonal, but the words get stuck in their throat whenever they try to muster the courage to say something. Just writing that sentence took everything.
How might you feel in that situation? How do you imagine you would respond?
by Wanda Diep, LCSW.
Have you felt that lingering pang of guilt after feeling upset or even pissed the hell off at someone you care about deeply? Or frustrated when you notice feeling upset after something that’s “small” or “not worth getting emotional over”?
What you notice in these moments are called meta-emotions: feelings about your feelings. There are a few examples of these meta-emotions. Here are some of the most common I come across:
Guilt about feeling anger
Shame/embarrassment about experiencing jealousy (which can be viewed as a system of emotions, but that’s a conversation for another time).
Frustration with feeling sad, anxious, or “emotional”
Anxious about feeling anxious
Nervous about feeling happy
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
I often feel like the new year (and all of the hype around it) arrives like an overenthusiastic motivational speaker— there’s the banging of pots and pans, folks shouting about “fresh starts,” and insisting this is the year everything changes. So much noise. Meanwhile, I’m standing over here in my mismatched socks, feeling emotionally exhausted, and wondering if it’s acceptable for me to set my expectations somewhere between “survive” and “remember to drink water.”
I live with chronic depression. And living with depression has a way of muting the fireworks. No matter how big and beautiful those fireworks might be. While the calendar flips with explosions of confetti and enthusiastic countdowns, my brain tends to respond with a kind of cautious squint. Hope feels fragile. Light feels far away. And yet—annoyingly, persistently—January still shows up, asking me what I want from the new year.
by Wanda Diep, LCSW.
When it comes to building and strengthening meaningful relationships, mattering plays a huge role. It’s one thing to say “you matter to me,” but there’s a different sense of security when this is felt.
Back in the 1980s, a couple researchers by the names of McCullogh and Rosenberg broke down mattering into three parts: attention, importance and dependence. It’s updated now to a version of awareness, importance and reliance. Let’s look at the three components a little more closely:
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
We live in a world that seems to be moving faster each day—spinning with uncertainty, division, and painful change. Whether it’s the weight of global events, personal loss, or the quiet ache of feeling ungrounded, many of us are walking through life carrying more than we put into words. And in these moments—when the ground beneath us feels shaky—what we most long for is often what we most resist: compassion for ourselves.
Self-compassion is not a passive turning away from reality. It is not about excusing ourselves or avoiding discomfort. Rather, it is a courageous presence—a tender and honest attending to our own hearts. In the midst of inner and outer storms, it becomes a gateway to clarity, resilience, and peace.
by Brianna Patti, LMFT.
If you’ve ever googled something like “how can i get my partner to show up for me,” you’re probably familiar with popular teachings of Gary Chapman’s The 5 Love Languages (1992). Many people have sought solace in this ideology as they weathered impasses in their relationship. Partners who feel distanced from their significant other can receive a glimmer of hope as they read about simple prescriptions for connection that they can suggest to their partner. It’s important to honor that this framework has provided millions of people with concise language that began important conversations about deep emotional needs.
by Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
When people think about anxiety, they usually imagine constant worrying or thoughts looping on repeat. However, anxiety, like all emotions, is not a purely cognitive experience; it also lives in the body. Tight shoulders, unexplained nausea, a racing heart, or restless nights can all be signs of stress you’re carrying without realizing it.
This connection between mind and body matters, especially in a world where stress feels increasingly inescapable. Many people are living with not just personal worries but also collective fears tied to politics and questions of safety. For LGBTQ folks, immigrants, and others navigating discrimination, uncertainty, and threats of violence, the weight of these pressures can show up as chronic stress. Paying attention to how anxiety affects the body can be a first step toward understanding what you’re going through and can offer some concrete strategies to care for yourself even when so much else feels out of your hands.
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
In my time working with those suffering from addiction, I have found one truth to be consistently overlooked—not by those struggling, but by the systems, narratives, and even treatments surrounding them: The absence of self-compassion.
Addiction is not a choice. It is not a moral failing. It is not, at its core, about substances or behaviors. Addiction is a response—a deeply human response—to pain. It is an attempt to soothe wounds that may not even be remembered, to quiet voices of shame that have echoed for decades, and to reclaim, if only briefly, a sense of agency in a world that once felt out of control.
Yet despite this, those struggling with addiction are often met with judgment—from others, certainly, but most tragically, from themselves.
by Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
If you’ve ever been in a long-term relationship, you’ve probably learned that grand romantic gestures, while nice, can’t alone sustain a loving relationship; more often, it’s the subtler, everyday interactions that dictate much of how we feel with our partners: How you greet each other at the end of a long day, the small ways you show up, inside jokes, and a reliable shoulder to lean on when times are tough. Over time, those moments create a kind of emotional reserve. In the Gottman Method of couples therapy, we call this the emotional bank account.
The idea is simple, but profound: Every interaction between partners either deposits into or withdraws from that account. Warmth, affection, and attention all add to your balance. Criticism, dismissal, and neglect take away from it. When your emotional bank account is full, it’s easier to weather stress, misunderstandings, and conflict because you’re drawing from a well of trust and goodwill. Conversely, when it’s low, even small infractions may be enough to cause a disgruntled partner to rethink their relationship.
And, for queer and trans relationships, as well as other marginalized groups, who may already be carrying the emotional toll of navigating an often unkind world, these daily “deposits” can mean so much more, as a strong, trusting relationship (romantic or not) is sometimes our most reliable source of support and affirmation.
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
In the aftermath of romantic attachment, we often imagine only rupture: the slammed doors, the silence, the fragments of ourselves left scattered in the emotional debris. But, what if the end of a relationship was not a failure, but an evolution? What if the way we part ways became as intentional and compassionate as the way we came together?
Conscious uncoupling is not simply a trend or a softer word for divorce—it is a philosophy of ending that respects the bond once shared. It is the courageous act of turning toward the pain with curiosity rather than blame, with integrity rather than vindication. As a therapist, I have sat with couples in the throes of heartbreak and also with those choosing to close their relationship with care. And I’ve come to believe that how we end matters as much as how we begin.
by Tiffany Hooton, LMFT
If you’ve ever played Dark Souls, you know it’s a franchise that carries a reputation for its punishing bosses, bleak atmosphere, and environmental storytelling. Players new to the series find themselves facing defeat at every turn. The world of Lordran feels hostile and desolate. Everything wants to kill you, even the environment itself. Because, as seasoned players know, the real boss is gravity. The story is fragmented. Progress is slow and grueling.
So why do people like this game so much? True, there are fans who are in it for bragging rights, who want to make the game seem as difficult and as inaccessible as possible to new players in order to bolster their gamer egos. But there’s more to it than that. For many others, there is a genuine pleasure taken in meeting the challenges the game presents, and it’s in those challenges that I’ve found the greatest meaning.
Of course, I don’t mean to suggest that video games are a cure for mental health struggles; however, like any work of art, games can reflect life back at us in sometimes surprising ways. And, as someone who’s worked closely with depression and has, at times, struggled with it personally, I found that the mindset I developed while playing Dark Souls was useful for more than just beating bosses.
by Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
For many people, family is a source of love, support, and belonging. But what happens when your family of origin—parents, siblings, or extended relatives—becomes a persistent source of pain, chaos, or emotional harm? The idea of going no-contact can feel drastic, even taboo. Yet, for some, it’s a necessary step toward healing and reclaiming personal peace.
By Andrew Kravig, LMFT.
Okay, where to begin?! Let’s start with this: Leaning into vulnerability isn’t comfortable, but it’s where courage is born.
When you’re preparing to tell your family you’re in a polyamorous relationship, you're not just sharing a fact about your love life. You’re sharing something deeply personal, layered, and likely misunderstood. Something about who you are as a person and how you understand your place in the world. And that means vulnerability will have to walk hand in hand with this conversation.
But here’s what I know: Authenticity is a practice. And living wholeheartedly means choosing to show up, even when there are no guarantees. So, let’s let go of certainty, and see what vulnerable authenticity can offer us.
Here are some things to keep in mind as you approach this conversation.
By Brianna Patti, LMFT.
My Instagram feed lovingly (read: rudely) reminded me that July 23, 2025 was the 15-year anniversary of the formation of One Direction. Coincidentally, I had come across my collection of CDs a few months prior and noticed that I never purchased their final album, Made in the A.M. (2015), because the eight-month-old wound of Zayn’s departure was still too fresh at the time. I decided it was finally time to include this fifth album to my collection, sans our beloved fifth boy.
While I waited for the CD to arrive, I started playing their old albums again. I popped Up All Night into my Hello Kitty boombox (easily my best eBay purchase ever), and I nearly burst into tears when I heard the late Liam Payne sing the first line of the opening track. Suddenly, I was a teenager finding solace in the harmonies sung by other teenagers. This emotional time travel helped me return to a time when music, fandoms, and daydreams softened the edges of my reality.
I know I’m not alone when I say that my adolescence was rocky, and my favorite boy band offered me a temporary sense of safety. I’d describe their music as a kind of emotional scaffolding— something to hold onto when everything else felt unsteady. Their music didn’t fix anything, but it made me feel less alone, and sometimes that was enough. As a therapist, I’d like to share what I’m noticing about the benefits of diving into this kind of nostalgia.
By Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
Does it ever feel like people are just… lonelier? Depending on your algorithm, it seems like we can’t go more than a few days without hearing the words “male loneliness epidemic,” tossed around (sometimes sincerely, sometimes not), across articles, podcasts, and social media. Online commentators warn of the growing “atomization” of society. You could probably fill a bingo card with all the buzzwords floating around this conversation. But glib remarks aside, there’s something real behind the noise. Our social lives have changed, and for many, that’s meant a growing sense of disconnection and weakened community ties. And, though the media loves to center the struggle of white cishet men, this is a trend which extends far beyond those narrow boundaries of gender and sexuality.
By Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
In today’s world, many queer couples are creating relationships that challenge traditional gender roles and expectations. However, even the most liberated among us can still struggle with shaking off the unconscious pressure of societal norms that creep into our relationships. Whether it's about who initiates intimacy, managing household tasks, gender presentation, or covert expectations around emotional expression. As a result, these unspoken scripts about how people "should" behave in relationships can lead to confusion, tension, or misunderstandings that leave partners feeling frustrated, especially when we don’t realize they’re there. That’s why exploring how these norms impact LGBTQ+ partnerships can be so important (and why couples therapy can be a powerful space for healing, connection, and growth).
by Andrew Kravig.
Starting therapy is a brave decision. It means you're choosing to face challenges head-on, work through pain, and seek a healthier, more fulfilling life. But anyone who’s been in therapy knows—it’s not always easy. Real growth takes time, and two of the most important ingredients in that process are committing to do the work and consistency.
We live in a world that rewards quick fixes, fast results, instant gratification, and “life hacks.” But therapy doesn’t work that way. It’s not about getting answers overnight. It’s about learning to understand yourself, change patterns that don’t serve you, and build a more solid foundation for the future. That takes time, and it takes effort. The progress you make may be slow at times, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working.
by Tiffany Hooton, LMFT.
Let’s be honest: if procrastination were an Olympic sport, most of us would be gold medalists. We all know the drill—you sit down to write that report due tomorrow, and suddenly, it’s absolutely essential to clean out your sock drawer, reorganize your spice rack, doomscroll, and check if your cat needs a new Instagram post. Sound familiar?
Procrastination is a sneaky beast. It wears many disguises and often pretends to be “taking a break” or “waiting for the right moment.” But the truth is, it usually ends with us waiting until the eleventh hour, muttering regrets into a cup of stale coffee, or, worse, feeling crappy about ourselves, squashed under the weight of our own anxiety.
So why do we put ourselves through this Sisyphean torture? And more importantly, how can we do something different? Let’s take a look at some of the biggest culprits behind procrastination, and how to fight back (without defenestrating your laptop, or yourself, in the process).
By Andrew Kravig
If you’re anything like me, you’ve probably looked around lately and felt the weight of it all pressing in. The news cycle feels relentless. Policies targeting trans people seem to sprout up overnight. One day, I’m planning my week around a normal routine — work, gym, maybe brunch with friends — and the next, I’m reading about a new bill threatening access to gender-affirming care in a state I used to call home.
Being a trans man in uncertain times isn’t new, but it is exhausting. So how do we navigate it all — the headlines, the microaggressions, the family dinners where we’re still misgendered, the internal pressure to keep showing up when it feels like the ground keeps shifting?
I don’t have all the answers, but I’ve picked up a few strategies that have helped me stay grounded when everything feels unstable.
by Wanda Diep, LCSW
An acute bout of anxiety is anything but cute. In the moment, you might feel intense dread, an indescribable feeling like something terrible is going to happen. Plus, there are the body sensations of sweating, tunnel vision, lightheadedness, shallow breathing, and feeling frozen in place.
The good news is, you’ll be ok. The bad news is, you don’t know that in the moment.
I wrote out some of the common ways I help my clients deal with intense anxiety they might experience when out in their daily life.
Different things may work for you and your nervous system. One person’s clean, white, empty room is another person’s pile of pillows in a dark room with a comfort TV show and sparkling water to distract them. Here are a few steps to try, and then you can personalize them for yourself.
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contact@prospecttherapy.com | (562) 704-4736
