We Don't Need More Advice

A call for connection over correction

Good evening beloveds,

So, I think we’ve become addicted to fixing ourselves.

I took a bit of a break from Substack this weekend. My feed felt loud… flooded with posts on how to grow, how to write better, how to get more attention, how to do it right.

And if I’m being honest, part of me wondered if it was the Substack algorithm gods playing a joke on me… or maybe testing my patience.

Because when I really sat with it, I realized why it was getting under my skin.

It makes me feel like a problem that needs fixing.
Do these posts ever make you feel that way too?

It makes me wonder if we’ve started outsourcing our self-trust to self-help.

At first, I caught myself trying to think of ways I could join in, what I could write to fit into that rhythm.

But the truth is… my page isn’t for advice.

Who am I to tell you what will work for you when in truth, we are all strangers? What works for me might not even touch you the same way.

I didn’t even really create this page to post publicly. I did it as exposure therapy. And the 30 of you who are now part of my journey, whom I have the deepest admiration for, were the most surprisingly wonderful added bonus of my first step in healing the fear that holds me back from living this life.

I’m just tired of all the help. Somehow it makes me feel more helpless.

I don’t want help.
I want someone else to make me feel normal.
To reinstate some hope in a world that profits off leaving us doubting ourselves.

This weekend alone, I felt scared, doubting, vulnerable, and alone.
I also felt the deepest sense of gratitude, joy, abundance, connection, and trust.

I am learning to stop trying so hard all the time to have it figured out.
To be a human BEING, not a human DOING.

I don’t have all the answers. None of us do. So why do we pretend?

At the end of the day, we all need to do what feels right for ourselves, and hold space for each other in that becoming.

Most of us don’t really need answers when we seek help.
We need connection.

I’m not writing the rest of tonight’s post as a prescription, but as a story of my truth, in case it helps normalize some of life’s ickiness for you.

Healing Lonely by Creating Connection.

These past few months have been a turning point for me. Filled with early nights, self-help books, nourishment, long walks, and time in nature. Learning how to say no to things, people, and places that feel unaligned so I could strengthen the “yes” of realignment.

But choosing better for yourself doesn’t come with immediate comfort.

If anything, it tests you.

It felt like I kept swimming, but suddenly I wasn’t alongside the same school of fish anymore. No sign of life for miles.

Changing, and choosing myself, meant accepting that parts of my life—and parts of me—would be left behind.

In non-metaphorical terms, that meant releasing life as I knew it to God, source, the universe… whatever you want to call it, and trusting that something better was being built, while still showing up as my best self in the process.

Like being put in a dark room with an easel and paint, told to create something beautiful without knowing how. And choosing to pick up the brush anyway.

Just. keep. swimming.

I went from having a phone that would never shut up to one that stayed silent for weeks. When I went offline, few friendships survived.

It was a hard pill to swallow at first. But I kept reminding myself: whatever died out was never built strong enough to last. And who needs more of that anyway?

That being said, I thrive off connection and community.

And for a while, I did what most of us do.

I waited.

I waited for the universe to send a new friend group. Maybe even the boyfriend I’ve been wanting. Knocking at my door.

It never came. Surprise, surprise.

Instead, I developed a touch of social anxiety. I didn’t want to go anywhere alone. I became scared of what people might think of me—something I hadn’t felt since high school.

For a bit, I let that voice win.

But deep down, I knew that if I wanted a life that felt good, I would have to create it myself. And face the discomfort head on.

Rebuilding.

One day, bored and mopey, I scrolled on ClassPass and decided to move my body.

I’m not going to feel lonely and get fat.

I don’t know what possessed me to go, but I’m indebted to that jolt of energy. It marked a turning point.

I walked into the class and was immediately taken aback by how kind everyone was. There was a name card waiting for me, and some prayer printed on the back that I couldn’t understand.

I had no idea what I was in for, but I dropped my judgments and just… immersed.

Next thing I know, I’m chanting OMMM, hitting every downward dog, saying “Govinda” without knowing what it means, and smiling the entire time.

The beginning of return, I thought.

The following week, I brought my best friend and used the extra courage to talk to the girl next to me.

She was so sweet. We exchanged numbers. Agreed to come back together.

A new yoga friend. Hell yeah.

I started going 4–5 times a week. Not just for the practice, but to challenge my social anxiety.

Each time I walked through those doors, my confidence grew. I could feel my spark coming back.

Outside the Comfort Zone.

My studio does something really special—they build community outside of class.

Almost weekly, they host events. Guest speakers, book clubs, music, art… always creating spaces for people to come together.

One day, I saw a flyer for a Friday night vision board event.

I didn’t have plans, but I hesitated. I didn’t want to go alone.

For days, I went back and forth.
To go or not to go.

I didn’t want to force my friends to come, but I was terrified to show up by myself.

And then… I bought the ticket.

Walking toward the studio that night, I had to keep repeating to myself:

Do not let fear win.
Do not let fear win.
Do not let fear win.

I almost turned around multiple times.

But I didn’t.

When I walked in, I saw two unfamiliar faces. Before my anxiety could spiral, Brenna—the host—came up and hugged me.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

And just like that, something softened.

I sat down, still repeating my mantra, until eventually… I didn’t need it anymore.

Two more girls joined.

We began with a sound healing meditation.

Then Brenna asked, “How are you guys?”

We all gave the standard, “I’m good.”

And she stopped us.

“No guys… we can’t just be good. How are you really? Because I, for one, am very stressed and anxious these days.”

And just like that, it was like we were all given permission to drop the act.

A portal to authenticity opened, and we all stepped through.

One by one, we shared. Our struggles, our fears, our truths.

We went from strangers to something that felt like friends in a matter of minutes.

As a therapist, I’m so used to listening and jumping in to help, fix, suggest.

But in that moment, I realized no one needed saving.

Not them. Not me.

We didn’t need solutions.

We just needed to be heard.

It was the gentle nods.
The soft “mhmm.”
The look in someone’s eyes that says, I get it.

That’s what did all the healing.

That’s what I want this page to be.

We don’t need to experience the exact same things to understand each other.
We don’t need to fix it, solve it, or make it better.
Sometimes all it takes is someone sitting across from you, quietly saying, I get it.

Just a gentle nod.
A reminder that you are not alone.

That we are all a lot more alike than we think.