The Paradox of Change

What if it rains? What if I left the stove on? What if the salmon in the fridge has already gone bad?

Anxiety tends to fill the empty spaces of our mind when life feels uncertain. Like a constant mental ping-pong match of 'what ifs,' it robs us of the simple joys right in front of us. You might recognize this pattern. One minute, you are enjoying a quiet walk on a beautiful day, noticing the smell of fresh grass and feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. Next, your brain is hijacked by a rapid-fire list of worst-case scenarios.

I often tell my clients it is like being Dr. Strange from Marvel, obsessively scanning all possible outcomes, except without the magic of the time stone to guarantee a perfect ending. So, we spiral instead. Overthinking, predicting, and catastrophizing.

It is exhausting, is it not?

Why Fighting Anxiety Makes It Worse

One of the most frustrating parts of anxiety is not the anxiety itself, but the way we fight it. We get caught in a loop. First, the anxious thoughts. Then, the frustration at having those thoughts. Then, the exhaustion from trying to outrun them. By the end of the day, you are not enjoying the fact that things actually went fine. You are just relieved you survived the storm your mind created.

This is the pattern I see over and over. And it leaves us feeling powerless.

We become frustrated with our frustration. We judge ourselves for not feeling peaceful, confident, or grounded. We treat emotions like a problem to be solved, rather than an experience to be felt. And the more we resist, the louder they become.

A mentor once told me, "What we resist, persists." I could not agree more.

How We Pathologize Emotions

In graduate school, I was taught many theories and models to 'fix' emotions like anxiety. The framework was often about resolving, reducing, or eliminating these feelings. But over the years, as a practicing clinician, I have come to question this approach.

Maybe the problem is not the emotion itself. Maybe the problem is the way we try to battle it, rationalize it, or push it away.

We have been conditioned to view emotions like anxiety, fear, and frustration as something to get rid of. But what if these emotions are not the enemy? What if they are simply part of the human experience?

A Different Approach: Grace Over Control

Carl Rogers, whose philosophy deeply inspires my work at Eon Therapy, once said, "The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change."

Instead of arguing with your emotions, what if you paused? Recognize the feeling first, without judgment. Notice what it feels like in your body. Breathe into it. Let it exist without trying to fix it.

I often tell my clients that the act of trying to solve the problem is exactly the problem. Next time anxiety shows up, instead of running, notice what it feels like in your body and what it sounds like in your mind. Give yourself permission to be human. It is natural to feel these emotions.

You may be surprised what shifts when you allow the feeling to exist, without rushing to reframe or rationalize it. And if the salmon does happen to go bad? I am sure you will find a creative and delicious backup plan. You always do.

If you would like to explore how to befriend your emotions instead of battling them, I welcome you to connect with me at Eon Therapy in Lakewood, Colorado.

Why Eon Therapy?

Since starting my private practice, Eon Therapy, many have asked why I chose the name Eon. Of all the words in the world, why this one?

The answer is not just about branding. Eon became a compass for how I think about growth, purpose, and legacy. It is not simply a name for my business; it reflects something I deeply believe in and try to live out, both in my personal life and in the space I offer to others.

I want to write this as candidly and openly as I can; not just to explain my “why,” but because I believe when we slow down enough to name what matters to us, something begins to take shape. Something we can stand by. Something that lasts.

The Word That Chose Me

The word eon is defined as “an immeasurably or indefinitely long period of time” (Merriam-Webster). When I came across it, it felt timeless, sacred, and patient; all qualities I wanted to carry into the work I do. Not just for myself, but for others navigating their own process of growth.

I know it may sound ambitious—and maybe it is—but is it not human to long for our lives to leave a meaningful impact? Whether I have one more hour, one more year, or one more decade to live, I want to live with intention. I want my work to matter.

When I reflect on the greats throughout history, I think less about their achievements and more about the moments that shaped them before anyone knew their name. We are often drawn to the end results: the invention, the breakthrough, the creation. But what about their inner world? What were they wrestling with? How did they make sense of things when no one was watching?

We tend to admire the story of the “tortured artist,” yet rarely pause to consider the complexity of their journey. We measure value by outcome and contribution, often overlooking the quiet, imperfect process behind what became their legacy.

The Work Before the Work

As a psychotherapist, I have the privilege of witnessing individuals in deeply human moments; not as the world expects them to be, but as they are. What continues to stay with me is not just what someone has gone through, but how they experience it—how they carry it, how they try to make sense of it, how they long to grow through it.

Over time, I have come to believe that growth is never about speed or arriving somewhere perfect. It is about presence. I often tell my clients it is okay to take their time. It is okay to feel stuck. The process is the point, not just the outcome.

The emotional terrain underneath someone’s story is where real transformation begins. We all know moments when someone sees us fully, without judgment. Sometimes that is all it takes to open a new direction.

I often imagine those moments like a ship adjusting course by just one degree. It may seem small at first, but over time, that single shift could lead someone to a destination far more aligned with who they truly are.

A Legacy of Presence

My faith is central to who I am. The wisdom, grace, and love I have found in God continue to shape how I show up—in therapy, in relationships, and in my own life. That said, I believe the process of becoming is universal. Regardless of belief, culture, or upbringing, we are all learning to grow through tension, fear, and desire.

My role is not to tell others where to go or what to become. I see myself as someone who supports the questions; someone who walks with others as they sort through their own meaning, their own change, and their own truth.

That is what Eon means to me. A lifelong reminder to approach my work with intention. To trust that even one conversation can change the way someone sees themselves. To live as though the small things matter—because they do. As James Clear once wrote, “How you do anything is how you do everything.”

I do not expect to be remembered for one singular achievement. Still, I hope the presence I offered—the conversations, the honesty, the compassion—continues to ripple forward. And if someone looks back one day and says, “That moment helped me move toward who I really am”, I would feel content knowing that was enough.