No More Silver Linings

The Truth About Not Being Okay

I’m not okay, and I’m not going to pretend I am.

I know that might make some people uncomfortable.

Wait—so why would anyone want to read this? Haven’t I always turned to content for an uplifting perspective? To capture some hope?

I think that’s how I was for a long time. I remember my ex-husband teasing me about my movie choices. He said I was like a child—always wanting to watch Disney movies, rom-coms, or something happy. He told me Europeans could handle more truth, darker, unhappier endings because they better reflected real life. Frankly, after everything I’d been through up to that point, I didn’t understand why people sought out painful stories. I hadn’t yet started therapy, so I didn’t realize that certain movies were hard to watch because they triggered something in me. My unconscious mind had no more space for pain. My CPTSD was running the show, but I didn’t know it yet. I just knew I wanted something that made me feel better, made me laugh—and my ex-husband thought that wasn’t mature, but certainly cute.

I’m different now. I still won’t watch horror, but I can handle stories that hold some weight. The point is, I don’t know if sharing all this will be too heavy or if it will resonate. But I do know that when I was studying acting, I was always drawn to what was real.

So, you can read this if you want truth. Maybe I’ll find some insight; maybe I won’t. But I’m tired of only hearing my thoughts in therapy, and I’m way past the days of silver linings. Frankly, I’m lonely, frustrated, and a little stuck. No—literally. I’m in a boot for the fifth time in my life, and I can’t walk. So if you feel that way too (not the boot part, but the stuck part), maybe we can find a way through it together.

Kind of like the first time I went to therapy. At the time I was newly engaged and living in Barcelona, sitting across from Ana, my therapist. I told her I needed to find a way to be happy all the time—that I could never get low because my father told me not to speak to him if I was sad.

"Think of me like a person you write a letter to from camp. Only tell me the highlights of your summer. Nothing else."

I truly believed that if I wasn’t positive enough, I would attract bad things into my life. Like the time I was raped and my dad said, “You attracted this into your life so you wouldn’t have to move to Spain.” For a time, I actually thought I was that tragically powerful.

Ana paused and asked, “Have you ever met anyone who is happy all the time? Someone who never gets sad?”

I thought about that in silence for a long time—and I wasn’t one for silence. I started picturing moments of my father crying and screaming at me. And suddenly, something shifted. It was the first time I experienced what I would later call the lifting of the fog—the moment I realized I wasn’t seeing reality clearly. My perspective had been shaped by someone else’s fears, clouding my ability to see the truth.

In a time of misinformation and political uncertainty, knowing what’s real matters. And after five years of weekly therapy (coupled with many other methods), I think I’ve come to at least one conclusion: truth exists in the present moment, in being fully in our bodies. This is our call—to be here, now. With that awareness, it’s not that we won’t make mistakes or perceive untruths as truth—we will still mess up—but if we are present and embodied, we will feel truth in our bones, and that will help us navigate our choices.

I’m not pretending I have all the answers—I don’t. But I know this: truth matters. And if you’re feeling lost, frustrated, or stuck, maybe we can find a way forward—together.

Plus, I’ve been a ghostwriter for 13 years, and although I’m not about to quit my job in the shadows, I’m feeling a little braver about being seen…I just hope I don’t spook anyone too much.

If I can muster up the courage, I’ll try to write weekly. Stay tuned.