Belonging-in an Unsteady World

Lately, there’s been a quiet but unsettling shift in the air. Across the Atlantic, the chill has deepened—America is blowing cold on diversity, equity, and inclusion. Words like “belonging,” “representation,” and “justice” are being scrubbed out of boardrooms and public institutions, repackaged or simply discarded. And though we’re watching from the UK, many of us are feeling it. The ripple. The wobble. The deeper question: Do I still belong here?

For those of us already living at the margins—because of race, gender identity, disability, class, queerness, neurodivergence—this moment can land like a bruise on top of older bruises. Even if you’ve found your voice, your place, your people… the world turning colder to your existence can still make you doubt. Still make you small.

And if you’re someone who cares deeply—who has spent time unpacking your own privilege, trying to walk gently in the world—perhaps you're feeling disoriented too. Wondering how to keep holding the thread of your values in a time when inclusion is being reframed as something radical or even risky.

Your wobble makes sense.

When the structures around us feel less safe, less truthful, less soul-led, our nervous systems respond. We may feel exhausted. On edge. Cynical. Or strangely numb. In therapy, this is often where people arrive—bone-tired from swimming against the current, aching with questions they can’t quite name.

What therapy can offer in these times is a space to land.

Not to fix, or rush past, or find silver linings—but to root. To reconnect with your own inner compass when the external world feels confusing or unkind. To grieve what’s being lost. To find language for what’s rising in you. To remember that your worth and your voice were never conditional on being tolerated by the status quo.

From this grounded place, something more spacious can unfold.

Maybe it’s the courage to speak up again.
Maybe it’s the quiet relief of no longer gaslighting yourself.
Maybe it’s tending to the part of you that has always felt outside—and beginning to reweave it into your story with tenderness.

We are not meant to navigate collective change—or collective harm—alone.

So if you're feeling shaky as old structures unravel, know that it's not a personal failure. It’s a sign of your attunement. Your aliveness. Your longing for a world that holds more of us, more honestly.

And if you need a place to steady yourself, to listen inward, to be witnessed without judgment—I’m here.

Therapy isn’t just for the broken.

It’s for the ones who feel too much.
For the ones who see and still choose to care.
For the ones holding both the grief of this moment and the fragile hope of what could be built from it.

Let’s sit with it together.
Let’s breathe into the wobble.
And from there, maybe—just maybe—we find our way back to a deeper kind of belonging.