There’s a particular kind of pain that defies easy description. Not the sharp sting of a cut or the dull ache of a bruise, but the hollow, gnawing distress that floods your chest when you’re separated from someone you love.

Whether it’s your child’s first day of school, a partner traveling for work, or the end of a relationship—this pain is real, visceral, and rooted deep in your mammalian brain.
We imagine that somewhere beneath all our contradictions, all our competing desires and impulses, there exists a coherent “I” pulling the strings.
This is the uncomfortable truth that haunts our age of endless optimization, relentless self-improvement, and the incessant pursuit of productivity. 



Listening to the people who come to my practice, I realize that there is a great fear of time-wasting. 
