How to Go Deeper with Conversations

Guest Author, Christie Eppler, Ph.D.

How to Go Deeper with Conversations

[Dr. Eppler is one of the best question askers and listeners I know. I am appreciative for this post and for the way she gently encourages connection and growth. I hope it encourages you to continue to lean in towards connection with others. – Jen]


You know when several of your therapist friends post the same blog entry that it is going to be good (or controversial enough incite an academic riot). Recently, quite a few of my colleagues and friends posted Momastery’s post on relationship-saving questions. The thesis of this entry is simple and elegant: ask rich, thoughtful, caring, and provocative questions.


Instead of asking, “How are you?,” ask more thoughtful questions.


“Did you feel lonely today?”

“Did you feel proud?”

“How is your mom’s chemo going?”


These are specific and heartfelt queries. They increase intimacy, empathy, and bonds in relationships, factors needed for healthy relationships. As a family therapist, this advice resonates with solid communication research and what we know about family cohesion and health. Yes! Ask good questions.


And…


There will always be times when folks, out of habit or just not knowing what to ask, ask, “How are you?” And, it can be hard to answer that question. It is big, amorphous, and vague. However, we can choose our response. We can answer in a similar vein, “Oh, I’m ok.” or “I’m busy.”


Instead, we can answer as if we were asked the most interesting question in the world.

How are you?

“Oh, I felt a little lonely when…”

“I’m disappointed that my mom’s chemo is making her tired. It scares me.”

“I jumped for joy when I found out…”


It is a good thing when others ask us thoughtful questions, but it won’t always happen. Sometimes, to paraphrase Gandhi*, we have to be the change we wish to see. We can be intentional with our response, even in the face of a non-perfect question.


Before her oral comprehensive exam, a friend was given apt advice: Answer the stumper questions in a way that speaks to what you personally know. The answers to big questions can be steeped in our personal experiences. A broad question like, “What is going on?” can be honed down to, “What is it like for me?” Personalization helps us connect. It gives words to selves who crave to be shared in relationships. Instead of, “Things are fine” (impersonal), we can say, “I feel/I think…” Then, we are speaking from our own self.



Sometimes, answering vague questions with specific, personal answers happens naturally. Have you noticed that a good friend can ask you a simple question and it starts a whole conversation? But, someone else, someone with whom you have less of a connection, asks you the same thing and it doesn’t really go anywhere. What is the difference? Our response. We may have little control over the questions we are asked, but we do have the ability to act with our answers, our expressions, and in what we share.


The answer is usually both. Seek to ask good questions. Invite those in your relationship circles to ask great prompts (some families use a question jar that they can choose from – be creative!). And, set an intention to answer fully and personally, for all questions.


*Gandhi’s quote: “If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. … We need not wait to see what others do.”

___________________________

Christie Eppler, Ph.D, LMFT is a professor and program director in the Couple and Family Therapy program at Seattle University. Dr. Eppler is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist (LMFT, Washington) and holds an approved supervisor designation from the American Association of Marriage and Family Therapists (AAMFT). Her clinical practice covers the complete age span of children, youth, and adults. She has provided clinical services in an elementary school, community-based clinics, and at a college counseling center. The Washington State School Counselor Association (WSCA) named her Counselor Educator of the Year in 2007. She has published in the Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, among other family-related journals. Her qualitative research focuses on the intersections of spirituality and narrative therapy, resiliency, and issues of social justice. She lives in Seattle with her dog, Mossy, who is always looking for their next adventure.


Restore Therapy Collective

By Hande Walker, MA, LLP October 15, 2025
I used to despise people telling me to be grateful or even worse, count my blessings, every time I expressed negative emotions about a problem in my life. I have never found gratitude or positive affirmations helpful, always regarded them as a form of psychobabble— until quite recently learning about "glimmers". To me, glimmers (or any other nervous system regulation technique) are almost the prerequisite to any type of positive thinking, whether it's gratitude exercises or the practice of reframing negative thoughts. Nervous system regulation is the ability to go back and forth between states of activation/arousal (when you are triggered) and states of calm/relaxed, depending on what’s going on in your environment. This is the natural capacity of your nervous system, to be functioning smoothly and finding balance between different states; for your heart rate to increase for instance to prepare for action, and then to slow down and recover from the aftereffects of this activation. When you experience traumatic events, your nervous system gets stuck in different states for too long. Constantly being in a state of hyper-arousal is an example of this. Waiting for the next thing to go wrong, you are always hyper vigilant, on guard, and prepared. Slowing down feels risky and unsafe. Fortunately, there are ways in which you can teach your nervous system find balance and reclaim a peaceful state for optimal rest. For me, my nervous system needs to get to a state of calm and some sense of grounded-ness before I can convince my brain to think positive. Thinking positively feels like a tall order when my system is still trying to assess danger for survival. Glimmers are more accessible to me in such a state of hyper-arousal, while gratitude feels like extra work and effort when I am already at capacity. I suppose I also did not quite understand the point of positive thinking in the past, which contributed to my aversion. To say—let alone believe—that I was a worthwhile human being deserving of wonderful things did not quite match the internal storm I harbored, for instance, when I was in the depths of despair trying to make sense of the ending of my marriage a few years ago. So, neither positive affirmations nor gratitude exercises alone was enough to shift my thinking. I am using past tense because I have a different, more accepting, softened, curious, not so ready to attack type of attitude towards positive thinking, specifically gratitude and positive affirmations, maybe even leaning more towards positive, but when it's done in the right way, in combination with nervous system regulation. I am mostly frustrated with the expectation that we are to be grateful in life. I do think that when something unfortunate happens, it is very normal to acknowledge the badness in the situation rather than finding the silver-lining. Contrary to some widely used social scripts, I do not believe that everything happens for a reason or that there is a life lesson we can learn from every negative experience. If that happens naturally, that's wonderful. However, I believe that sometimes this mentality forces us to turn our emotions into something productive, to make something good with the misfortunate we have experienced. I get that this may be a source of comfort that distracts people from experiencing their excruciating pain. Some people think that the opposite of finding the silver lining is dwelling or staying stuck. I think this brings up a lot of fear about losing control and not being able to stop the pain once acknowledged, seen, and felt. Although this fear is valid, you can always learn healthy ways to cope with a bad situation, instead of trying to convince yourself that your situation is “not that bad”. Fully processing your feelings and thoughts about distressing life events and integrating these experiences into your life can help you develop a more adaptive narrative about yourself and the traumatic event you endured. On the other hand, if you are conditioned to be a Pollyanna, you may trick yourself into believing that bad things happen to teach you something valuable in life. I want to recognize that it can feel more empowering and less helpless to think that ‘everything happens for a reason’ than to accept that bad things happen, period. It is also understandable and human to want to avoid the pain and suffering, but this avoidance can be costly. It is possible to build up internal resources and a good support system, while expanding our capacity to tolerate distress and navigate the after-effects of trauma. So that you do not have to invalidate or diminish the significance of your own feelings/experiences and so that you can start living from your highest potential, liberated from all of the limitations imposed by the unaddressed overwhelming life experiences. To be clear, I do think that if you are able to make something productive out of your trauma or if it becomes the driving force of you making your life more meaningful, then that is very powerful. A common example is people experiencing domestic violence and becoming an advocate to raise awareness in the pursuit of helping others. It can be healing for them and for the survivors of violence. But sometimes bad things happen, and you can't make sense of it, you do not have the answers as to why they happened, or you don't have the motivation or willingness to transform your misfortune into an opportunity like some people are able to do. I find that desperately trying to find answers takes us away from the experience of feeling the pain and ultimately impedes our ability to move on from it. Oftentimes, the act of mourning may bring us closer to the acceptance and meaning making stage anyway. Paradoxically, I find that the truth or the wisdom we so often search for—through the pursuit of definitive/fixed answers—actually lies in the discomfort of existing in that in-between-space, in the not knowing, the ambiguity, the uncertainty, and the doubt. My hypersensitivity to positive thinking probably stems from my very first encounter with the concept of gratitude by my very-well-intentioned, sweet mother, suggesting to me that the blemishes on my skin were a symbol of my youth, something to be cherished and even celebrated when I was in middle school. I did not quite feel like celebrating or cherishing my blemishes at that time of my life—I do not think I will ever get there to be honest. I know what my mother was trying to accomplish and I love her for that. However, her attempts at instilling positivity inevitably had a role in me developing some sense of guilt and shame around not liking my not-very-likable skin condition at the time, which I carried with me (the guilt and shame) for a long time. It makes me think about how many parents unintentionally plant the seeds of that very unnecessary guilt in their children in an attempt to help their kids feel better about their difficult experiences. When in fact, validation, empathy, and a container to hold all of the distressing emotions would make it a lot easier to deal with unfortunate situations, in my opinion. There was nothing to be grateful for having a skin condition that made me very self conscious at such a difficult developmental phase of my life. I did not want to hear that I was beautiful even with the presence of my skin condition (a form of positive affirmation) because I did not believe it. I also did not want to hear that my skin condition symbolized something meaningful like me going through puberty and being an otherwise healthy adolescent (a form of gratitude). NO, it symbolized unfairness and a sense of defeat to me. I was doing a 12-step skin care routine and staying away from gluten and dairy (even before it was trendy) when I was still a young girl, whereas my friends could just be 'regular teens' and not care about their diet/skin care regimen. As an adult, I am aware that my friend's lives were probably not perfect either, but I did not have the biological and emotional capacity in middle school to think rationally and say "Well I am sure everyone is going through something, nobody has it all". I was convinced that I was doomed. So my point is that, I was not really receptive to the positive affirmations or the gratitude practices at that age. The younger part of me just wanted to complain and cry and for my adults to be on my side and not only give me permission to cry, protest, complain, and grieve, but also give me tools (in addition to the practical help and resources) to manage these very difficult feelings, because that would have been the best gift ever. Even writing this, a part within me is screaming at me to be 'grateful' for my health, to be grateful for my wonderful childhood, my amazing parents' endless support, countless appointments with numerous dermatologists, for all the medication that I could afford to buy, my parents' active involvement in my life, and their genuine love and care for me. And I am forever grateful. AND, I would also greatly benefit from validation and a toolkit (perhaps glimmers) to help me make sense and cope with my feelings of despair, instead of being rushed into the stage of acceptance through gratitude. Anyway, this blog post was supposed to be about the Polyvagal Theory and how it served as a precursor to somehow transforming my thoughts about gratitude and affirmations. Let's move on to the main story, glimmers. It was not that long ago that I heard the term "glimmers". I fell in love with this word (my skeptical part surprisingly did not automatically put this term in the psychobabble category). Somehow, the word itself gave me hope. I started sharing the meaning and value of "glimmers" with my family, friends, and clients. It felt more approachable to me to notice glimmers as a way of cultivating a hopeful and optimistic outlook on life, as opposed to repeating some mantras to myself that did not quite resonate. I am very cautious and skeptical of any intervention or technique that is so trendy and "life changing" as I do not believe in quick, surface level fixes. Understanding the science behind glimmers and its connection to nervous system regulation was profound. If you do not know what a glimmer is already, here is an explanation from Deb Dana: "A glimmer is a micro-moment of regulation that fosters feelings of well- being. A glimmer could be as simple as seeing a friendly face, hearing a soothing sound, or noticing something in the environment that brings a smile...". Deb Dana talks about the positive impact of glimmers on neutralizing triggers and helping us come back to regulation. After attending Deb Dana's training on Polyvagal Theory and getting a better understanding of the biological underpinnings of glimmers, I have started to practice "noticing and naming glimmer moments" as she had suggested in the training. Below you will find a few examples of the types of glimmers I have encountered in the recent months: I was in Chicago recently with my partner exploring the city. We decided to take a break from walking around downtown and sat on a bench at the Cityfront Plaza to take in the beautiful view of the city, skyscrapers, and the hustle and bustle of its busy people. I grew up in a big city in Turkey, so simply being around big buildings was glimmer-ous enough for me. Not for my partner though, he felt mostly claustrophobic being surrounded by enormous buildings. The city life itself was not particularly a source of glimmer for him, which is a testament to the uniqueness of everyone's personal glimmer. Your glimmer can very well be someone else's trigger, but when you find a glimmer moment that you can share with a loved one, it can be a real special moment in my opinion. Shortly after our quiet break in the Cityfront Plaza, we managed to find a mutual glimmer totally unexpected. We were suddenly made aware of the theatrical arrival of the sassiest Canadian goose I have ever seen in my life. Somehow, this bird managed to be the center of attention with its loud entrance to the scene, fluttering its wings as if to call attention as a display of dominance, as if to say "Everyone, look how magnificent I am", with all sorts of tricks and shows proud with the attention it was getting from all of the tourists, but to be honest—mostly me. I could not keep my eyes off of it. I was captivated. I think that was the most peaceful I have felt in a long time. It felt like all of my body parts were at rest simultaneously for the first time, there was no urgency to move or do anything else, but to stay in that moment. I felt content, grounded, and as if all the pieces were in the right place. Needless to say, the Canadian goose was my glimmer. And if I were to make a list of glimmers before this experience, I do not know that a goose would make the top of the list. Another recent glimmer was watching a squirrel eat what seemed to be a gigantic apple outside of the window of my dentist's office, instantly calming my nerves whilst sitting in my dentist's chair anxiously waiting for her to arrive. Another example was raindrops hitting my window, leaving visible streaks and patterns of water on the glass. A glimmer I notice on a daily basis is the post snack lip smacking of my cat. It is the most soothing and comforting sound ever. I find that my glimmers have a common theme—animals and nature. I realized that it has been very powerful for me to be mindful of these glimmers that I notice each day, as they remind me of the bigger picture, my purpose and meaning, what I value and live for (a goose?), and indirectly and effortlessly, make me more grateful for and remind me of all the wonderful things that I have in my life. The irony in all of this is that I do not have to force the positive affirmations down my throat when my body does not tolerate and reacts negatively to this foreign substance it does not recognize and therefore does not digest. After all, it was easier for me to come to the conclusion that I was a worthwhile being when my nervous system was in a regulated state. Unexpectedly, the glimmers set the necessary conditions right, so that I was more receptive to engaging in a higher level cognitive exercise (reframing negative thoughts, making a gratitude list, etc) that ultimately allowed me to be at peace with myself and the world. Ultimately, I am 'grateful' for all of my glimmers and how easily accessible they are in everyday life. How wonderful would life be if we were all offered the exact tools we needed to thrive and be our best selves in childhood. At the risk of sounding like an inspirational quote, it is never too late to re-parent yourself and give yourself the proper nutrition you need to cope with a stressful situation, rather than constantly feeling defeated and even more guilty when you can not take in all the "support and comfort" the wonderful people in your life are so genuinely and generously offering. I hope you are surrounded by people who can listen to you and adapt/ adjust their valuable offerings so that their support matches your internal storm, and will not end up causing a hurricane when all they are attempting to give you is a safe haven. I hope with the help of "glimmers", you can also identify what your safe haven is, so you know exactly where to take refuge during challenging times. If you need the help of a professional to help you identify the coping tools specifically designed for your unique needs, sensitivities, and personality patterns, do not hesitate to reach out to Restore to schedule an appointment with a Restore therapist. A few side notes: If positive affirmations and gratitude exercises/practices are helpful for you, that is wonderful. This post is for individuals who do not find them helpful, who may need adaptations or alternatives to these practices, or may need more ground-work (mindfulness, therapy, etc) to do before they can use them as valuable resources. If you find the information on gratitude and positive affirmations on any social media platforms helpful, validating, affirming, that is great. My hope is that you are mindful of the content you are consuming, as there is a lot of toxic positivity and inaccurate information being shared by individuals that are not trained in mental health. Although they may mean well, some of the information they share can be more harmful for some individuals or vulnerable populations. If something resonates with you, that's great. If not, discerning media content can be a skill you can cultivate in order to protect your mental/emotional wellbeing.  Hande Walker, MA, LLP is a therapist at Restore Therapy Collective. In her free time Hande enjoys long walks or a hike in the nature. Besides spending time with friends and family, Hande loves reading-especially psychological thriller books. To schedule an appointment with Hande, please send a secure message through our contact form .
By Rachel Schelhaas, LMSW April 7, 2025
Many times when a client comes to me for the first time they are eager to learn and implement new coping skills. In my first year as a therapist I heard from many clients striving to implement new skills that the skills “Weren’t working”. To this I typically ask what do you mean when you say “work or doesn’t work?”. Clients will usually respond with something along the lines of, “I use the skill and I still have anxiety”. This is where a reframing of coping skills is necessary to the therapy process. There is not a skill in the world that we can practice that will entirely alleviate painful or challenging emotions. If there was, we would all know about it, there would be countless books, podcasts, and resources about it, and ultimately there wouldn’t be a need for coping skill therapy. So instead of framing skills in the black and white mindset of “working” or “not working” there are a few shifts that may be beneficial. Use Scales When working with clients I often encourage them to capture distress on a scale. For example, on a scale of 1-10 with 10 being the most distressing anxiety you could imagine feeling, how intense does this feeling feel to you right now?.This means that when applying a skill we’re hoping for a decrease in intensity knowing that complete alleviation is not likely. It can be comforting to use this approach to measure something like anxiety before and after a skill, noticing that if that number decreases even by one, the skill is worth engaging in. Notice & Be Curious When applying coping skills I am however less concerned about a decrease in a distress score then I am about noticing and naming experiential, physical, and thought related changes. For example, the anxiety feels like a knot in my stomach, or I noticed my heart rate slow during the exercise, or the pace of my thoughts slowed following use of the skill. This means adopting a curious and alert mindset to notice what is happening before, during and after skill use in our emotions, thoughts, and body. Ride the Wave When working with a new client I often hear pathologizing and praising of certain emotions (joyful=good, sadness=bad etc). Emotions may be challenging and painful to feel at times but categorizing them in this way is typically unhelpful and can lead to loneliness, shame, and avoidance. Freeing ourselves from categorizing emotions allows us to see every emotion as a wave that rises and falls in intensity. Some rise and fall rather quickly, some last longer, but all emotional experiences are simply a part of our human experience. When we learn to ride the waves of emotions instead of boxing them up into categories it allows for freedom to feel and relief in the reality that intensity of a feeling will decrease over time. So when you think about using your coping toolkit in the future I’d encourage you to take on a curious mindset, scaling intensity of a feeling, with the reassurance that the intensity will naturally decrease over time and perhaps even more so with utilizing your new coping skills.  Rachel Schelhaas, LMSW is a therapist at Restore Therapy Collective. Rachel enjoys working with clients to increase their insight and understanding of themselves in order to bring their best self to the relationships that matter most. In her spare time you can catch Rachel going for long walks, cooking a tasty meal, reading an audio book, or searching for unique finds at the thrift store.
By Hande Walker, MA, LLP December 27, 2024
I feel like I am getting to know a different aspect of my grief each day. Grief for me is like one of those people that you are intimidated by. You think you know everything about them, but then they do something unexpected and completely take you by surprise. The kind of person that is unpredictable but not in a bad or unhealthy, manipulative way. The kind of person that cannot categorize their personality type in a number, because they are more complex than that. The kind of person from whom you feel there is so much to learn, even though you’ve known them forever. It never gets boring, but it’s a bit exhausting because sometimes you just want to be around simplicity, predictability, and even boring, as you do not always feel up for an adventure. So anyway, imagine that person, but it’s not a person - it’s an emotion instead. That is how I experience my grief! Recently, I have realized that my grief makes me want to take action. It gives me the “sense of urgency” to act on a thought or an idea. The action step is not always in line with my values, what would be in my best interest, or what would benefit my relationships. I sometimes find myself wanting to provide a manual for my clients who are going through grief. To be able to tell them when their grief is going to end or be more manageable. Why do I want a manual? This is a question I battle with a lot in my line of work. Because most things are so abstract, I crave a manualized approach to tell me what to say or what to do. When it comes to grief especially, I also think I need the manual to have some sense of certainty and familiarity, so the process of grieving does not get more overwhelming than it already is. Grief feels distinct from other emotions in this way, as it has a quality that never ceases to baffle me. Like, you do not know when it’s going to hit you, even if you identify and go through every single possible scenario you can imagine to know what to do and how to take care of yourself when you’re reminded of your loss. It is like the universe finds a clever or sneaky way to surprise you when you expect it the least. Let’s talk about anxiety, for example. Anxiety can be sneaky too and manifest in subtle ways sometimes. Not the intense physical symptoms that feel like you are going to have a heart attack and die, but when you experience rumination, can’t stop overthinking something, when you are being short with your partner or feel irritated and agitated. That is easier to chalk up to anxiety for me. For some reason, it is easy for me to understand and conceptualize anxiety. To understand the impact of anxiety on relationships, for instance, is easier to grasp and come to terms with. If I am anxious and easily annoyed, I will relate to others in a way that will reflect the ‘not so pleasant state of my mind/being.’ When it comes to grief though, it feels as if all of a sudden, I do not know how to be a human and do humanly things. When I am grieving, I do not always understand how I feel physically or regard the sensations in my body - or even the energy around me - as a reflection of my grief. For some reason, it is very hard to make that mind-body connection for me in the context of grief.It is also hard to put this into words, as I feel like I am trying to describe something so intangible. It’s as if you have to experience it to know and to understand. I recently realized that “the urge to do something and fix it” comes from a place of hurt, sadness, and powerlessness attached to the grief related to a loss I experienced a few years ago. Not wanting to come to terms with something that is so unfixable, so irreversible. Not wanting to accept that there is no chance to make it better anymore. It is over, and I have to accept that I must move on.Yuck! Even writing this in a very clear and conclusive way right now evokes uncomfortable feelings and sensations in my body. Hello there, grief! I see and recognize you now! Finally, not suppressing or ignoring the presence of my grief is helping me not make impulsive decisions or take actions when there is no action to take. For example, calling that person that my brain somehow convinced me was such a good idea, even supporting its argument with persuasive reasons that provided a sudden (false) sense of relief. I felt like I was finally on to something. Finally, I found a way to reverse the situation and make everything go back to what it was before. I am excited, hopeful, and it feels too good to be true. Then reality sets in. After engaging in some reflection and feeling more grounded in the painful reality, I realized my “protective part” was trying so hard to not let me feel the pain of loss and grief. One time, my protective part worked so skillfully that I even convinced my therapist that I was making the right decision with the action I was planning on taking. My therapist even told me jokingly that I should be a lawyer. Apparently I was so persuasive. I really want to give credit to my protective part for working so hard to keep me safe. I initially was so upset and embarrassed about that protective part that ran the show that day, for going to such lengths to prove her point right, not caring about the consequences of her almost-impulsive actions. Then, I realized it was that protective part that would not let me develop a relationship with my grief - so much so that I felt numb when my body was screaming for help, begging to be seen. With the help of therapy, I was able to understand the incredibly hard work my protective part was taking on so that I did not feel the pain of loss. Only then did I start to have compassion for this amazing, courageous, kind, younger part of me. I reassured her that despite the pain, I was glad to be in touch with my grief. Because feeling disconnected from the pain also meant I was disconnected from the other positive things that were going on in my life. I was just an observer of myself - of my life - like watching myself in a movie as an audience member, not knowing I am the main actor and I can change the course of things. How exciting and empowering! But also scary and risky. That was when I realized I’d rather live in reality and learn ways to manage my grief (just like I did with anxiety) than live in a fantasy world, hoping and wishing that someday my brain will find a way to get back what I have lost. Witnessing so many of my clients who are in different phases of their grief journey and their relentless attempts at cognitive bypassing made me realize how important it is to find manageable ways to allow grief to exist. Simply acknowledging the presence of grief and being honest with myself about the intensity of the pain helped me relate to my grief in a different way. It did not become this scary thing or a danger zone I never wanted to go near. Instead, I realized I had to learn to honor its existence and adaptive function in my life. Easier said than done- I know. However, coming to this realization gradually brought me an unexpected sense of relief - knowing I do not have to fear grief. Because when you add fear to the mix, it’s as if the thing you are avoiding intensifies by multitudes. I think what helped me a lot was curiosity and openness to this new entity that was coming my way. Also, resourcing myself - expanding my capacity to handle big emotions (positive and negative) - was necessary if I was going to take an honest look at my loss. It required a lot of courage that I didn’t have at the time - not realizing courage was something I could cultivate when I opened up more space for the unknown and embraced the fear. And embracing the fear didn’t look “cute,” like what you see in the movies, when somebody finally confronts and overcomes their fear. Inevitably, I will experience another loss in life, but having a stronger relationship with grief itself - knowing more aspects of grief and having an open and curious attitude towards it - means grief finally does not feel like such a strange territory, like the person I was describing in the beginning. It also does not take control of my life or does not dictate my decisions. I, at least, have more neutrality towards it, rather than completely denying its presence. I can’t say that I am excited to interact with it at all times or that I look forward to its unannounced arrival. However, I am interested in listening and hearing what it has to tell me. At the very least, I do not find myself fantasizing about a manual to help me interact with my grief anymore (I never read them anyway). And I am happy with that progress. Hande Walker, MA, LLP is a therapist at Restore Therapy Collective. In her free time Hande enjoys long walks or a hike in the nature. Besides spending time with friends and family, Hande loves reading-especially psychological thriller books. To schedule an appointment with Hande, please send a secure message through our contact form .
Show More