The Inheritance of Survival

There are moments in therapy when I’m reminded that our struggles did not begin with us. Much of what we call anxiety or negativity is the echo of a long lineage of survival. An important insight from the existentialists is relevant here: anxiety is part of the human condition. Further, our negativity bias is what kept our ancestors alive. The vigilance that still tightens our breath, the inner critic that scans for failure, the fear that tries to anticipate harm—these responses are part of our survival. They helped our ancestors notice danger, protect themselves, and stay connected to the groups they depended on.

We inherit these responses in our nervous systems and in our families. Over centuries, people adapted to hardship, scarcity, violence, domination, and powerlessness. There have been times when surviving meant suppressing emotion, pleasing others, watching for danger, or carrying shame as though it could protect us. These strategies still live in many of us, even when the danger has passed. They surface automatically, the way any survival mechanism would. We come by them honestly.

From Suffering to Compassion

When I view suffering in this way, something shifts. Some distance grows between myself and the stories that shaped me, and inside that space is a broader recognition of humanity. Tracing our patterns back beyond our individual lives creates a similar distance from which mutual recognition grows. The urge to condemn ourselves loses some of its force. We can look at our thoughts and habits without confusing them for our identity. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” we might begin to ask, “What helped us survive?”

This wider view is not about excusing harm or avoiding accountability. Instead, it offers a deeper context for responsibility that grows from understanding rather than blame. Patterns that once felt shameful begin to look like remnants of strategies that carried someone through fear or instability. When we acknowledge how human beings have long adapted to hardship, uncertainty, scarcity, or powerlessness, compassion emerges as a response to our shared fragility. We gain the pause needed for steadier attention. Parts of ourselves that once appeared as flaws begin to look like adaptations that were trying to keep us safe.

In therapy, moments of being understood in these ways can create reciprocal clarity. We begin to see ourselves with fewer distortions, shaped less by old defensive stances and more by what is present, what has served us well, and what we want to change. This kind of recognition becomes a meeting point where dignity can replace judgment and where self-compassion becomes a workable practice. When suffering is held in that kind of exchange, change becomes less about correction and more about allowing new responses to take shape.

Choosing is a Creative Practice

Understanding where our patterns come from doesn’t make them vanish. Therapy offers a place to sit with what we have inherited and consider how we want to relate to it now. Meaning grows through discerning which adaptations still serve us and which ones are ready for revision.

Agency develops gradually, through the recognition of our shared vulnerability and the choices that recognition makes possible. Each moment brings an opportunity to respond to old strategies with new intentions. We can soften the grip of inherited fear, interrupt familiar loops of self-punishment, and offer care to the parts of ourselves that once had to stay hidden. We become more conscious participants in our own lives rather than passive carriers of what came before.

In this sense, therapy becomes a creative practice. We shape what we have inherited into something more coherent and workable. Our adaptations become sources of insight rather than evidence of flaws. The future we move toward becomes something we participate in forming, guided by what matters most and supported by a fuller understanding of how we came to be.

If this approach sounds interesting to you, I invite you to book a session with me.

Books to Explore

• Lisa Feldman Barrett, Seven and a Half Lessons About the Brain (2020). Mariner Books.

• Kieran Setiya, Life is Hard: How Philosophy Can Help Us Find Our Way (2022). Riverhead Books.

• Sarah Petton, Your Resonant Self (2017). W. W. Norton and Company

• Kristin Neff, Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself (2011). Harperwave.

• Irvin D. Yalom, The Gift of Therapy (2001). Harper Perennial Modern Classics.

Making space for what matters

It can be hard to hear ourselves think these days.
Notifications ping, opinions stack up, and the pace of life leaves little room for reflection. Even our inner world can begin to feel crowded with self-doubt, imagined futures, replayed conversations, or quiet pressures to do more, be more, fix more.

In a culture shaped by speed and self-improvement, slowing down to consider what truly matters can feel indulgent. Yet that pause may be one of the most necessary things we can offer ourselves.

Stoic Lessons on Focus and Freedom

The Stoic philosophers were no strangers to uncertainty. Living through war, exile, illness, and political upheaval, thinkers like Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, and Seneca were writing from within the challenges of their own lives, not from a distance.

One of their central insights is the distinction between what we can and cannot control. Marcus Aurelius captured this clearly:

“You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

This is not an invitation to withdraw from the world. It is a practice of returning to what matters:
What kind of person do I want to be?
What values do I want to uphold when life feels uncertain or overwhelming?
What remains within my influence, even now?

These are philosophical questions, and they are also therapeutic ones.

Philosophy as Groundwork for Therapy

Long before psychology became a discipline, people turned to philosophy to consider meaning, suffering, agency, and the shape of a good life. Many contemporary approaches to therapy—including existential therapy, narrative approaches, and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT)—continue this lineage.

Like philosophy, therapy asks us to pause and reflect, not only on how we feel but on what we believe and whether those beliefs support the life we want.

Are we living in alignment with our values?
Are we acting with integrity, or simply reacting from habit or fear?
Do we notice the stories we tell ourselves, and do those stories still hold up?

Therapy creates space to discern what is worth listening to.

Making Space

Clearing the noise does not mean turning away from the world. It means approaching the world with greater honesty and steadiness.

Sometimes this begins with very practical work:

• noticing thoughts and emotions
• regulating the body
• untangling internalized beliefs or outdated narratives
• responding differently to old triggers

Beneath all of this is something deeper: reconnecting with what you care about so your life begins to feel like it’s yours again.

In this sense, therapy can serve as both anchor and compass, helping you stay grounded while orienting toward something meaningful.

What matters to you?

You do not need to have everything figured out to begin therapy. You only need enough space to think clearly, feel safely, and ask the kinds of questions that open possibility.

I offer 60-minute sessions for couples, adults, and adolescents across Saskatchewan and other parts of Canada (in person and online). My approach draws on philosophical inquiry, narrative work, and evidence-based practices.

Books to Explore

• Marcus Aurelius (ca. 180/2002). Meditations (trans. G. Hays). Modern Library.

• Epictetus (ca. 108/2008). Discourses and Selected Writings (trans. R. Hard). Penguin Classics.

• Seneca (ca. 65/2018). Morals of a Happy Life, Benefits, Anger and Clemency. Andalus Publications.

• Donald Robertson (2019). How to Think Like a Roman Emperor. St. Martin’s Press.

• Massimo Pigliucci (2017). How to Be a Stoic. Basic Books.

Therapy begins with questions

People often come to therapy searching for answers to questions like:
Why do I feel this way?
What’s wrong with me?
How do I fix it?

These are understandable questions, especially in moments of loss, confusion, or uncertainty. Yet therapy rarely begins with answers. More often, it begins with the kinds of questions that widen our perspective rather than narrow it.

Cultivating Open Inquiry

Therapy is not a search for perfection but for understanding. It offers a deliberate slowing down and a turning toward what has been avoided or overlooked. When we begin to ask questions with openness rather than urgency, the nature of our struggles can shift.

We might begin to ask:

• What truly matters to me right now?

• What am I resisting, and what might that resistance be protecting?

• Who am I becoming through my choices?

• What kind of life could feel more coherent, or more my own?

These questions do not promise clarity all at once. They invite awareness, and awareness creates movement. The process is not about replacing pain with positivity but about meeting one’s life with honesty and curiosity, allowing values—not avoidance—to guide what comes next.

Collaborative Meaning-Making

Therapy is neither passive reflection nor advice-giving. It is a collaborative process of interpretation and meaning-making, marked by slow and steady change. Many clients arrive with patterns that have become invisible to them—habits of thought, emotion, and expectation that shape how they live. Together we begin to notice these patterns, to name what has been unnamed, and to discern what can be reimagined.

My role is to help trace these connections, to listen for coherence beneath the surface of experience, and to bring context to what may have felt isolated or senseless. The goal is not to fix what is broken but to understand what has been adaptive, and to consider what might now be ready for change.

Through a trusting therapeutic relationship, reflection, dialogue, and practice, this work leads toward greater psychological flexibility and a stronger sense of agency. That wise, grounded sense of Self allows us to act in ways consistent with our values, even when certainty is out of reach.

Therapy may begin in conversation, but it soon becomes a form of creative thought. When we ask deeper questions, we open the possibility of authentic inquiry into who we are and what we value most.

Ready to begin?

I offer therapy for couples, adults, and adolescents across Saskatchewan and Canada, with both in-person and remote sessions available. Whether you're carrying a problem that feels too heavy to name or finding it difficult to see where to turn, I’m here to help you explore what matters and what’s next.

Books to Explore

• Michael White & David Epston, Narrative Means to Therapeutic Ends (1990). Norton & Company.

• Rollo May, The Discovery of Being (1983). W. W. Norton & Company.

• Kristin Neff, Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself (2011). HarperWave.

• Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning (1946). Beacon Press.

• Stephen Joseph, Authentic: How to Be Yourself and Why It Matters (2016). Piatkus.