Reference:

Miller, W. R., & Rollnick, S. (2012). Motivational interviewing: Helping people change (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.

📚 A memory came up from high school when I wanted to quit a school performance. My teacher didn’t push me—she just said, “You’ve got something powerful inside you.” That gentle affirmation helped me believe in myself. It reminded me of MI’s focus on evoking inner motivation, not forcing it (Corey & Corey, 2016).

💬 When I feel truly heard, I feel more confident to move forward. That safe space builds self-efficacy, and I think that’s what MI is all about (Egan & Schroeder, 2009).

🕯️ Motivation feels like a tiny candle in a dark room. You don’t need to fix the dark—just protect the flame.

🌱 Lesson I’m taking with me: You don’t need all the answers to help someone. Just being there with empathy can mean everything.

References

Corey, M. S., & Corey, G. (2016). Becoming a helper (7th ed.). Cengage Learning.

Egan, G., & Schroeder, W. (2009). The skilled helper: A problem-management and opportunity-development approach to helping (9th ed.). Brooks/Cole.

Miller, W. R., & Rollnick, S. (2012). Motivational interviewing: Helping people change (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.

I remember a high school experience when I was scared to act on stage. A teacher did not push or try to fix me. She merely said, "I can see this is important to you." That small moment reminded me of MI's use of affirmations—reflecting inner strength in a warm, supportive way (Egan & Schroeder, 2009).

MI also helped me understand that evoking motivation is about believing in someone even before they believe in themselves. That's powerful. I'd like to bring more of that kind of support into my relationships—not leading from the front, but walking alongside.

References

Egan, G., & Schroeder, W. (2009). The skilled helper: A problem-management and opportunity-development approach to helping (9th ed.). Brooks/Cole.

Miller, W. R., & Rollnick, S. (2012). Motivational interviewing: Helping people change (3rd ed.). Guilford Press.

I’ve been learning to sit with my own struggles instead of rushing to fix them. Like in MI, I’m trying to be curious, not judgmental. My self-care plan included more journaling, better sleep, and music breaks—because those small things help me feel grounded and connected to myself.

I now recognize that using MI means building on people's self-efficacy, but also mine. Change starts from that place of self-awareness and supportive guidance.

Reference

Corey, M. S., & Corey, G. (2016). Becoming a helper (7th ed.). Cengage Learning.

One evening in a rough week last semester, I sketched for hours without thinking at all. Upon looking at it afterwards, I could see that it depicted precisely how I'd been feeling—turbulent, trapped, but still striving for something greater. It was as if I could see my emotions on paper.

Art Therapy's goal of becoming a "reflecting surface" for feelings truly spoke to that moment with me (Rankin, 2025). I wasn't just speaking—I was merely learning to listen. It was a reminder that healing isn't always in words. Sometimes colors and shapes do it better.

Reference

Rankin, T. (2025). What is Art Therapy? Cognitive and Behavioural Approaches. [Document].

Guzman, L. (2020). Essential art therapy exercises: Effective techniques to manage anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Rockridge Press.

The lecture explained that emotional resilience is somehow related to self-regulation, and that's something I've been attempting to develop. I've noticed that when I give myself space to create, even if it's just painting my nails or journaling with stickers, I am more grounded and less reactive (Rankin, 2025; Guzman, 2020).

I used to think I was wasting my time making these "creative detours," but now see they're part of my own self-care toolkit. I'll never be an artist, but I'm learning that art doesn't have to be perfect to be powerful.

Reference

Rankin, T. (2025). What is Art Therapy? Cognitive and Behavioural Approaches. [Document].

Guzman, L. (2020). Essential art therapy exercises: Effective techniques to manage anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Rockridge Press.

I have certainly used secondary emotions like irritation to cover up primary ones like fearfulness or sadness. It's easier to say "I'm irritated" than to say "I'm insecure." That hit me very hard. I think part of me is really afraid of being misunderstood if I do open up the deeper things. But I learned also that validation only succeeds after the actual emotion is identified. That reminded me to be more mindful when I listen to others, too—really hearing them and not just reacting.

I'm working on using a broader emotional vocabulary in my life. It feels awkward at times, but it's helping me feel more like I'm in charge of my thinking and actions, especially when I feel out of control. Baby steps, but important.

To me, watching the trees sway or sipping hot tea slowly after a long day is like therapy. I had no idea those quiet little moments counted. I've started doing them more mindfully now. When I'm nervous, I bring my mind back to my breath or what I can hear, smell, or see around me. It centers me.

The mindfulness article on burnout and emotional intelligence struck a chord too. I've been working really hard these past few weeks, and this class reminded me that self-care is not selfish, it's required. I even created a mini self-care plan, which is short walks, journaling with music on, and saying no when I'm tired.

Mindfulness, to me, means to be gentle and slow down even when life is messy. That's something I would love to carry forward, not just in my life, but also while assisting others in the future.

After our body scan meditation in class, I felt more grounded in myself. It was incredible how still everything was for a moment. In the silence, I noticed how quickly my thoughts rush to conclusions like "I always mess up" or "If it's not perfect, it's a failure." I did not realize how much these thoughts shape my feelings and behaviors until I slowed down enough to listen clearly to them.

Now I'm trying to catch myself when I'm having those thoughts and say, "Is this really true?" It doesn't come easily, but to catch one distortion and restructure it is a small triumph. I'm learning that what I think is what makes me feel the way I do, and I have more power to change it than I was aware.

Reference

Beck, A. T. (as cited in Rankin, T., 2025). Cognitive therapy and emotional disorders. [Book citation or source].

Rankin, T. (2025). Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. [Lecture notes].

When we started talking about cognitive restructuring, all made sense. I could visualize how much my mind catastrophizes, especially when I am stressed. I will have one bad experience, and then I believe the whole day is lost or that everybody is upset with me. That's emotional reasoning, and I did not even know I was doing it (Rankin, 2025).

I've started jotting down those thoughts and politely disputing them. Even writing out, "Maybe I'm just tired, not a failure," was enough to shift my mood. I noticed that CBT isn't about altering thoughts as much as noticing them with kindness and interest. That's something I'd like to take more mindfully into everyday life.

Reference

Rankin, T. (2025). Cognitive restructuring and emotional regulation. [Lecture notes, Tami Rankin Curriculum].

I hadn't even noticed how often that thought comes up until we finished the CBT worksheet on automatic thoughts. When I make a mistake, I immediately go into "I should have known better" or "People will judge me as not being able to do it." These "should" statements and perfectionism thoughts have been driving my stress, and I never quite connected all the dots before (Rankin, 2025).

What was most beneficial was the body scan meditation that we did in class. It was such a valuable moment where I was relaxed and equanimous—where I wasn't criticizing myself for anything. That's when I realized how judgmental my self-talk is normally. I'm working on replacing some of those default judgments with more compassionate ones such as, "It's okay to learn as I go" or "I can do well without being perfect."

This whole process is helping me step by step to redefine the way I respond to setbacks—not as failures, but as growth. And to be honest, that adjustment feels very freeing.

Reference

Rankin, T. (2025). Core Beliefs and Cognitive Restructuring. [Lecture Notes, Tami Rankin Curriculum].

The idea that small, positive things can enhance mood brought to mind a day when I forced myself to go for a walk and ended up sitting to see the sunset. That tiny choice made a gigantic difference. It gave me back a feeling of control. I realized that positive reinforcement does not have to be something huge—it can be as simple as listening to music that I like or calling a friend.

We also discussed finding goals and values. That resonated with me. I've started writing down small week-long goals that are about what I'm passionate about—like creative expression, connection, and learning. Even when I don't hit all of them, it gets me more here and in touch with who I'd like to be.

Reference

Rankin, T. (2025). Behavioral Activation and Mood Enhancement. [Lecture Notes, Tami Rankin Curriculum].

What really hit me was that exposure therapy is not about challenging yourself to "get over it." It's about working your way up to confronting what you're scared of, in safe spaces, so your brain can learn it's not as bad as it thinks (Zalta & Foa, 2012). That made me remember a time that I had spoken in class even though I was scared, and nothing bad happened. In fact, someone complimented me on it afterward.

I've started testing out "mini-exposures" in my life—like speaking up more loudly in class discussions or challenging things at school. I still shake, but each time I make it through, I'm a little more resilient. That emotional processing over avoidance is what I'm working to move further towards now.

Reference

Zalta, A. K., & Foa, E. B. (2012). Exposure therapy for anxiety disorders: A practical guide to the treatment of PTSD, OCD, and other anxiety-related conditions. Guilford Press.

I remembered once when I was in a state of overwhelm with school, family drama, and homesickness. My tendency is to shut down or distract myself. But having learned about defusion—the principle of observing thoughts without becoming entangled with them—I did something other than that. I just sat with the feelings for 10 minutes, no music, no phone. I just breathed and allowed the thoughts to arise and pass. It felt clumsy but strangely freeing.

ACT reminded me that what I'm thinking isn't a fact—only thoughts. And I don't have to do everything one of them says. That little bit of adjustment had a big impact.

Reference

Harris, R. (2019). The happiness trap: How to stop struggling and start living. Trumpeter.

I spent a quiet minute in class writing down my values, and I was astonished to discover that "authenticity," "connection," and "growth" were all things that kept repeating themselves. I've been second-guessing myself a lot lately-more so when new situations or presenting myself as a creative potential. But after I thought about basing my action on my values and not my fears, I felt more solid.

Last weekend, I put something up on my YouTube channel about myself that I had been reluctant to put up for weeks. My fear of what people would think told me in my ear, "What if people judge you?" But my sense of value on authenticity told me that being genuine is more essential than being perfect. That choice made me feel strong.

ACT is enabling me to build a life of what is most significant—not what my head cautions me to fear.

The word "dialectical" used to feel gigantic at first, but now it actually makes sense. You can love a person and get hurt by them. You can desire something else, but also be afraid of it too. That one hit close to home.

My group also spoke about how this kind of thinking reduces shame. I discovered that I'd been hard on myself for feeling mixed-up feelings, especially when I get mad. DBT has shown me that feelings aren't bad—just are. That adjustment makes it easier for me to welcome myself more kindly.

Reference

Linehan, M. M. (1993). Cognitive-behavioral treatment of borderline personality disorder. Guilford Press.

It was comforting to hear others tell me they've had that happen too. The idea of learning distress tolerance—and accepting that distress will happen without needing to "fix" it right away—felt empowering. I wrote down the class quote: "You can feel the wave without being pulled under."

I've started to be more mindful, even if only by breathing slowly a few times when I'm feeling overwhelmed. I'm learning that I don't necessarily need to respond in the moment. Sometimes it's okay to just label the emotion and let it continue on its own.

DBT is teaching me that building a life worth living takes both living through the quiet moments and living through the storm—and both are being human.

But narrative therapy made me pause and think: What if anxiety is something I feel—not something I am?

I used to think this way about myself during high school, when I was prepping for tests. I'd say to myself that I wasn't strong enough to cope under pressure. That was my story. But if I really reflect on it, I've actually coped under pressure many times—sometimes very well, sometimes not so well. Narrative therapy is teaching me that I can reframe that story. I can say to myself: "I'm someone who has struggled with anxiety and still shows up." That feels more empowering and real.

Reference

White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative means to therapeutic ends. Norton & Company.

In my group, I quickly described a time when I had helped a friend in a tough situation last semester. She afterward told me that it made her feel heard and understood. That is not part of my usual inner dialogue, but it ought to be.

Narrative therapy helped me recognize that there are other stories that exist in my life, stories of strength, compassion, and growth. I just need to notice them more. It encouraged me to start gathering those moments—not the moments when I flailed, but the moments when I showed up with care and with bravery.

It made me remember something I had heard as a child: "Don't cry so easily, it makes you weak." It became part of my inner story. But I now understand that sensitivity is not weakness. It means I am deeply caring. That's what I'm beginning to recognize as a strength.

Narrative therapy has shown me I have the right to reclaim how I narrate my life about myself. I am not "too sensitive"–I am sensitive. I am not "lazy"–I need to rest sometimes. I'm getting better at re-storying my life with more kindness and honesty.