Unleash Your Inner Magic

Where Complex Trauma Survivors, Neurodivergent Folx, Plurals, and Beautiful F#*king Rebels Come to Heal

I’m the Anti-Therapist… trauma survivor, healing guide, & rebel with a cause. I’m not anti-therapy, I’m anti-bullsh*t. I’m about bringing more humanity and relational realness, not policing it. If traditional approaches  have left you feeling pathologized, dismissed, more broken than before, or knowing it’s not enough… THIS IS YOUR SPACE to reclaim your power and embrace ALL of you.

THIS IS WHERE HEALING GETS REAL

NO PATHOLOGIZING

Your plurality is strength, not sickness.
Trauma responses are adaptations, not disorders.
You are not broken… The systems are.

NO TOXIC POSITIVITY

We start with your rage, your pain, your beautiful fucking energy.
Real healing honors where you actually are, not where you “should” be.

NO ONE-SIZE-FITS-ALL

Neurodivergent brains need different approaches.
Plural systems need affirmative support.
Your healing journey is uniquely yours.

Welcome to the full-spectrum, glitter-dusted, rage-fueled awesome sauce with a rebellious kick and a magical aftertaste! Stay wild!

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WHO THIS IS FOR

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Raw, honest reflections, letters, & musings about healing, humanity, and hope.

JOURNAL UNLEASHED

A lone black sheep outlined in glowing hot pink apart from the cluster of white sheep, symbolizing the Black Sheep survivor protecting themselves from an unsafe family.

You’re Not Broken Because Family Is Unsafe

You’re not broken because the people who should’ve loved you weren’t safe. If just hearing the word “family” makes your chest tighten, this one’s for you. Your nervous system isn’t the problem… The environment was. Let’s navigate this season together. This post continues exclusively on Substack. Come join me there to read the full post.

Grayscale cracked concrete with hot-pink glowing roots breaking through, symbolizing plurality reclaiming freedom from Ego State Theory.

Ego State Theory: The Patriarch’s Blueprint for Controlling the Plural Mind

Ego State Theory wasn’t created to understand the plural mind. It was designed to control it. From Structural Dissociation to IFS, every “parts work” model still worships hierarchy. Plurality isn’t a disorder. It’s defiance… The wild forest breaking through the empire of One.

A grayscale suspension bridge fades into thick fog with a glowing hot pink thread of light still connecting both sides, symbolizing lost connection and lingering hope.

When the Feeling Doesn’t Come Back: What Trauma Teaches Us

When closeness fades and doesn’t return, it isn’t proof you’re broken. Complex trauma rewires how we hold connection… Love can exist even when the feeling disappears. Sometimes numbness isn’t disconnection at all; it’s your body’s truth whispering, “I can’t keep reaching where I’m not met.”Complex trauma teaches the body to lose access to closeness when safety isn’t steady. Sometimes healing isn’t fixing the bridge—it’s recognizing the wisdom in the numbness.

Realistic grayscale image of a wolf and a domestic dog facing each other across a glowing hot-pink crack in the ground, symbolizing false intimacy, power imbalance, and emotional distance.

Half-Held: The Ache of Almost Friendship

You’re not asking for too much… You’re asking people who give too little. When words promise care but actions disappear, that’s not friendship. That’s control. Stop chasing crumbs and start expecting meals.

A black and a white unicorn face each other in a grayscale cosmic sky, their glowing hot pink horns meeting in a swirling galaxy of light — symbolizing balance, integration, and expansive healing beyond therapy.

Not Against Therapy. Against Limiting Healing.

Therapy can be life-saving, but healing doesn’t end in the therapy room. This post explores the harm of limiting healing to one path… and invites you to imagine something wilder, more human, and more expansive. Therapy matters. But so does everything beyond it.

Grayscale illustration of a solitary person wrapped in a blanket, sitting curled up with head bowed. A glowing hot pink outline frames the words: “When There’s Truly No One to Call.” Symbolizes the isolation and survival of complex trauma.

When There’s Truly No One: Surviving the Everyday Absence of Connection

When there’s truly no one to call, survival itself is radical. For some complex trauma survivors, loneliness isn’t just a night… It’s daily reality. This post names the ache, honors the grief, and offers fierce ways to endure.

A grayscale image of a heavy chain anchored into rock on one side and a suspension bridge on the other. A glowing hot pink flame runs between them, symbolizing the difference between attachment as tether and connection as fire.

Attachment vs. Connection: Stop Mixing Them Up

Attachment and connection get thrown around like they’re the same thing, but they’re not. Attachment is survival… The tether that keeps you anchored. Connection is presence… The fire that makes you feel alive. Knowing the difference changes how we love, relate, and demand more than scraps.

A grayscale image of a woman with her back turned, draped in a black net tangled with glowing hot pink diagnostic codes, symbolizing how the DSM entangles humanity in labels and pathologization.

When Being Human Becomes a Diagnosis: The DSM’s Business of Brokenness

The DSM has turned being human into a diagnosis. Grief, anger, difference… all captured and coded for profit. But we are not broken. We are not billing codes. We are whole, and humanity is not a disorder.

Two grayscale chairs sit back-to-back with a glowing hot pink crack running through the floor between them, symbolizing rupture, disconnection, and therapy harm.

WTF! Doing Therapy to Deal With Therapy

Therapy is supposed to heal, but too many survivors end up needing therapy to recover from therapy itself. This post exposes the harm, the capitalist machine behind it, and why real healing lives in community, creativity, and liberation… not billing codes.

A circle of grayscale woodland animals glowing with hot pink light in a dark forest.

Plurals Don’t Just Survive. We Hold Each Other Up

Plural support is more than survival… It’s revolution. Inside and between systems, we hold each other up, create lifelines, and reclaim belonging. Finding community takes patience, risk, and courage, but it’s how we turn isolation into connection, and survival into liberation.

THERAPY LETTERS

Hot pink envelope with a letter that reads Dear Client beside a second paper saying I See the Shield. “Even when you push me away, I see the love beneath the shield.” Graphic for Anti-Therapist Unleashed.

Letter To My Client: I See the Shield.

I see the shield. I see the grief it guards, the love it protects, and the protectors who refuse to let you be shattered again. Even when you push me away, I know it’s survival, not rejection. My task is not to break down the barricade but to stay steady enough that your system can risk believing connection is possible.

Hot pink envelope with a letter that says “Dear Therapist,” beside a handwritten note in bold pink letters reading: “Why I push and push away. I push you away because I love too much… and because loss taught me love is dangerous.” Black background with the Anti-Therapist Unleashed logo.

Letter To My Therapist: Why I Push and Push Away

Why do I push you away when I want you close? Because love is dangerous. To let anyone in means touching the fault line where loss still lives. Every slam of the door is not rejection, but survival… a system guarding a heart that is still too full of grief, and still longing.

Black, white, and hot pink envelope and stationary set. The letter is titled Dear Client: Therapy Alone Can’t Hold the End of the World, symbolizing raw, unfiltered honesty breaking through traditional therapy’s box.

Letter To My Client: You’re Right. Therapy Alone Can’t Hold the End of the World

Therapy was never built to hold the end of the world. A 50-minute box can’t contain climate collapse, war, and collective despair stacked on top of old scars. Healing must move beyond isolation into connection, community, rage, tenderness, and survival brilliance.

Black, white, and pink envelope with matching stationery on a dark background, symbolizing a raw letter to a therapist about trying to heal while the world collapses.

Letter To My Therapist: How Am I Supposed to Heal While the World Burns?

How do we focus on personal trauma when the whole world is unraveling? This raw Dear Therapist letter refuses the myth that healing can be boxed into 50 minutes, calling out therapy’s limits in a collapsing world while demanding something more human, real, and rebellious.

Hot pink envelope with “Dear Client” card and letter reading “Yes, the frame is limited. Yes, your longing is valid.”

Letter To My Client: You Don’t Have to Leave to Stop Pretending

You didn’t break the frame—it was already broken. This “Dear Client” letter affirms your longing for more than 50 minutes and protocol. Your needs aren’t too much; they’re human. Therapy can offer something, but never everything. You deserve care that meets you in fullness.

Hot pink envelope with “Dear Therapist” card and letter reading “I’m not healed… I’m grieving.”

Letter To My Therapist: When Healing Becomes Leaving…And Maybe, Something Else

This “Letter to My Therapist” names a hidden truth: sometimes healing looks like leaving. When clients seem more “functional,” parts may be retreating into silence. Healing isn’t just staying or leaving—it’s grieving limits while daring to ask if presence can stretch beyond the frame.

Hot pink envelope with letter reading “Dear Client” and bold message “You didn’t break the frame. The frame was already broken.”

Letter To My Client: I Can’t Give You What You Deserve

This “Dear Client” letter names a wound therapy won’t admit: silence can be abandonment. Your longing for presence wasn’t too much—it was human. Yet the system teaches retreat, leaving clients to bear the cost. You didn’t break the frame; it was already broken.

Hot pink envelope with “Dear Therapist” card and letter reading “I didn’t just send a TikTok. I sent a piece of myself…”

Letter to My Therapist: When a Text Gets Left on Read

This “Dear Therapist” letter names the ache of being left on read. For survivors, silence isn’t neutral—it echoes as rejection. A text unanswered can stir old wounds of neglect. This isn’t fragility; it’s memory. Connection isn’t neediness. It’s the most human thing we seek.

Hot pink envelope with “Dear Client” card and letter reading “Therapy, as it’s often practiced, is not immune to these harms. It can and does reenact them.”

Letter To My Client: The Healing You Asked For Was Never Too Much

This “Dear Client” letter affirms what survivors know: your healing was never too much. Therapy can wound when boundaries echo conditional care. Real safety isn’t rules—it’s relationship, built on attunement and honesty. Your anger, grief, and longing are valid. You deserve care that honors your truth.

Hot pink envelope with “Dear Therapist” card and letter reading “The therapy box isn’t just a container. It’s a setup…”

Letter To My Therapist: When Therapy Reenacts The Wound

This “Dear Therapist” letter names a hard truth: therapy can mirror the very wounds it promises to heal. Boundaries and distance may look like safety, but for survivors they echo conditional care. Real healing needs presence—not containment that repeats the past.

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