Blog for
Chris Lauzon - Therapist, LICSW

“Comparison is the thief of joy” is one of those phrases that sounds unquestionably wise. It’s well intended, even protective. For many people, especially those already carrying shame, self doubt, or a harsh internal dialogue it can be a helpful reminder to return attention inward. But, like most aphorisms, it becomes less helpful when we treat it as an absolute.

The image says what many of us feel but rarely slow down enough to name. We live in an age of constant access, news alerts, social feeds, opinion threads, breaking headlines, hot takes, and outrage cycles. None of it is inherently wrong; we are free: to believe, to speak, to vote, to worship, to dissent, and these freedoms matter.

So much of our emotional energy gets spent managing how we are perceived: what they think, how we “come across” to others, whether we said the ‘right’ thing. It’s understandable, we’re wired for connection, but when we orient our inner world around external judgment, we slowly lose touch with ourselves. What you think about yourself matters far more than what they think about you.

Most individuals are taught that growth should be decisive, consistent, and flawless; if a person is going to change, they should do it “all the way,” if they are going to care for themselves, they should “do it right,” and, if they are going to meet their needs, they should do it “always.” YET, that very mindset often becomes the thing that keeps us stuck. If you’re in a mindset of exploring your needs, especially after stress, loss, burnout, or transition, I want to gently

When a relationship ends whether you made the decision or the choice was made for you, you’re often left standing in the quiet aftermath, surrounded by emotions that feel heavy, tangled, and confusing. Grief. Loss. Sadness. Anxiety. Fear. Anger. Shame. Guilt. Not everyone experiences all of these, but most folks experience some combination, and when they do, it can feel as though they’ve been placed inside a box: a confined emotional space where movement feels restricted and

Have you ever looked at your relationship and thought, “We’re both here… but I still feel lost”? Like you’re in the same harbor, but somehow you can’t quite see each other clearly? I call this the Relationship Fog. It’s that hazy place where you still care, still want to be close, but communication feels clumsy, misunderstood, or distant, where you’re trying to navigate connection, yet something old and familiar is steering your wheel instead. Let’s talk about it.

The shift from summer to fall is beautiful in many ways, but it can also be deceptively draining. The end of summer vacations, less time with friends and family, shorter days, diminishing sunlight (and vitamin D), the start of the school year, the return of colder weather, and the looming weight of major holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas; all arrive at once. Add to that the closing of another calendar year, and suddenly, what once felt abundant and energizing begins to

Oftentimes our Old Mental Muscle (trying to protect us) pushes us to ‘feel’ responsible for others. Long-standing friendships, familial ties, or ingrained relational patterns can create the sense that we must hold things together, smooth over conflict, or carry the emotional weight of the group. But here is the truth: there is a profound difference between ‘feeling’ responsible and ‘being’ responsible; who pays the tool?

Living with ADHD as an adult is often framed as a challenge, even a deficit. But what if we flipped the script? What if ADHD isn’t just something to “manage,” but a superpower to harness?

When a relationship ends, or even when we begin to fear that it might we can find ourselves in a deeply emotional space that feels startlingly similar to the grief of losing a loved one to death. It is a death in its own right: the death of shared moments, of intimacy, of dreams once nurtured together.

Imagine standing on the stage of your own mind, and a voice calls out: “Let’s make a deal!” Here’s the offer: You commit to staying 80% in the present, and only 20% in the past or future. Not as a punishment. Not as a restriction. But as a gift to your present self, the only “you” that can act, change, breathe, and respond. Let’s break this deal down.

When people walk into a therapy room, it’s often in response to something urgent, an emotional crisis, a relationship breakdown, burnout, or a significant drop in their overall functioning. It’s natural. Pain is a powerful motivator. But while we spend so much time focusing on how to tread water when we’re drowning, we often forget that true, sustainable growth happens not during the chaos, but during the calm. Let’s call that calm your baseline.

Picture this: an old crosscut hand saw, lying on its back. The flat spine rests against the table, and the jagged edge, the teeth, points upward at an angle. Imagine tracing your finger along those teeth from one end of the saw to the other. It's not a smooth line. It's not soft or easy. It's jagged. Sharp. Uneven. Yet undeniably, the motion is angled up. This, in many ways, is the visual metaphor of our journey through mental health and well-being.

When we’re in the grip of a crisis response (what many call a panic attack) our system goes into full alert. Heart racing. Breathing shallow. Skin tingling or sweating. Thoughts flying. Judgments stacking. It can feel like the world is closing in, or that we’re about to lose control entirely. But beneath all of this is a simple truth: We are reacting to a perceived threat.

Let’s talk about the very fine line between “loving someone well” and “loving someone out of fear.” It’s a line that gets crossed more often than we realize, sometimes in the name of care, sometimes in the name of connection, and often without us noticing until tension begins to rise or space becomes scarce. If you’ve ever felt smothered in a relationship, or just as importantly, recognized you might be the one doing the smothering—you’re not alone. And it’s worth unpacking.

We’ve all done it... Scanned cheap flight deals, fantasized about a beach getaway, a mountain escape, or even a cozy staycation filled with naps and novels, only to immediately shut the browser tab and sigh, “Ugh, I can’t afford it.” But before you exile your desires to the land of "maybe next year," it’s time to grab your most powerful planning tool: self-awareness.

Online Dating: Fish With A Line, Not A Net: If you’ve spent any time on dating apps, you know the feeling: an endless scroll of profiles, hollow conversations that go nowhere, and a nagging sense that maybe, just maybe, you’re going about it all wrong. Let’s talk about a different way to date online, a way that feels less like you're trawling the ocean for anything that bites, and more like casting a line, patiently, intentionally, for what you actually want.

What if your future self could send you a message today? Not a warning, not a regret—but a vision. A clear, inspiring glimpse into the life you could be living. What would it say? What would it show? This is where the Tool of Self-Awareness becomes invaluable—not just for reflection, but for transformation. When you pair it with a powerful visualization known as The 2 Dimensional Postcard, you tap into your deepest truths to map out a future worth striving toward.

Somewhere along the road of growing up, many of us absorbed a lie: that life is a pass or fail test. You're either doing it right, or you're doing it wrong. Success or failure. Approval or rejection. We internalize this binary thinking early—at home, at school, in relationships—and it follows us quietly into adulthood like a shadow. But the truth is: real life happens in the gray. And that’s where the grace is.

When we think about conflict in relationships, we often imagine explosive arguments or long-standing feuds. But what can be just as damaging (though far more subtle) is conflict avoidance. That creeping tension that builds up when couples sidestep tough conversations, suppress small annoyances, or habitually say “I don’t care” to avoid disagreement. Over time, this kind of emotional evasion can erode connection, breed resentment, and spark fights over seemingly trivial things