“How do you cope?”

It’s a question I’m often asked.

And I understand why.

How does one work with people who’ve experienced violence, abuse, trauma?

How do you carry their stories without breaking yourself?

How do you truly listen—to the hardest, rawest truths?

And I think…

What’s the alternative?

I’ve been there myself.

I know what it’s like to sit across from someone, trying to get the words out.

To feel like no one could possibly understand—that it’s too much, too big, too fragile.

So when someone opens up to me today, I know.

I know that survival is possible.

That healing is possible.

And I know that in that moment, the only thing needed is someone willing to stay.

So I stay.

I listen.

I hold space.

Not because I’m stronger than others—

But because I’ve built a way to sustain myself.

Because I know what it costs—and what it takes.

—

You can’t give without also filling up

Working with trauma requires presence. Softness. Precision.

And you can’t do that if you’re depleted.

So I’ve made recovery part of my profession.

I lift weights.

I breathe.

I meditate.

I sleep well.

I eat nourishing food.

I seek out what gives me meaning, joy, and energy.

I spend time with people where I get to be fully myself—not just the one who holds others.

To me, this isn’t a side note. It is the work.

Taking care of myself isn’t selfish—it’s a professional strategy.

A necessity if I’m going to keep doing what I do, year after year.

—

Sustainability in the human experience

Being able to hold painful stories isn’t about being unaffected.

It’s about knowing how you’re affected—and not getting stuck there.

It’s about building an inner system of support, recovery, and compassion.

Toward others—but just as much toward yourself.

I’m a therapist and founder of Pause Rooms.

Here, I create space for healing, reflection, and human sustainability.

Because yes—it is possible to work with trauma without falling apart.

But only if we take responsibility. For others—and for ourselves.