Healing often sounds empowering. But what people don’t always talk about is the loneliness that can come with it. When you’re the first one in your circle to start setting boundaries, naming your needs, and doing the work—it can feel like you’re drifting away from the people you used to feel closest to.
This post is for anyone who’s outgrowing old patterns, grieving familiar dynamics, and wondering if it’s normal to feel so alone in the process.

If you’ve ever been told you’re too sensitive, too needy, or too much, this is for you. You are not hard to love. You may have just been asking for love from people who didn’t know how to give it. Real connection doesn’t require you to shrink yourself. It meets you where you are—and reminds you that your needs were never the problem.

After a long season of showing up for others, I wanted to give myself something different for my birthday this year: space. I spent it in San Diego—my first time in California—eating tacos, watching sunsets, walking across the border into Tijuana, and (once again) not seeing a single whale on a whale-watching tour. But beyond the travel moments, this trip reminded me of something deeper: joy doesn’t have to be earned. It can be the thing that heals us.

It’s not always easy to walk away from something you’ve invested in—especially when you’ve spent time justifying why it’s not that bad. But growth often starts with a quiet realization: you’re no longer willing to abandon yourself in order to keep the peace. Whether it’s a job, a relationship, or a pattern that no longer fits, you’re allowed to outgrow what you once settled for.

You don’t have to be alone to feel abandoned.
Emotional abandonment is the quiet pain of being unseen, unheard, and unsupported—even by the people closest to you. This post explores what it is, how it shows up, and how healing begins.

This weekend I went camping—just me, the trees, and a campfire that asked nothing from me. I didn’t hustle. I didn’t multitask. I didn’t fix a single thing.
Okay, I checked my inbox once. But only out of curiosity, like opening the fridge knowing you’re not actually hungry.

Still counts.

Some of the deepest grief we carry isn’t about what we lost—it’s about what we never got. The parent who couldn’t show up. The relationship that never felt safe. The support that never came. This week’s post explores what it means to grieve what never was—and why that grief is valid, real, and worthy of compassion.

I’ll be honest—this one was hard to write. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because so much of it hits home. My own relationship with Father’s Day is complicated, and my feelings about my dad are layered. Grief, longing, questions that don’t have answers—it all shows up for me too.

If you’ve been second-guessing everything, this is for you.
Self-doubt often starts in places where your voice wasn’t heard or your feelings weren’t valued. But you’re allowed to come home to yourself now.

Some relationships don’t end with a fight—some just fade when you grow.
It’s confusing and painful when people who once felt like home no longer feel like a fit.
This week’s post explores what it means to outgrow safe relationships, how to navigate the grief of it, and why it’s not a betrayal to choose peace over proximity.

Feeling guilty doesn’t mean you did something wrong.
It often just means you care—about others, about doing the right thing, about being a good person.
But when you’ve been taught to prioritize others at your own expense, even healthy choices can feel wrong.
This week’s post explores the kind of guilt that shows up when you start honoring yourself—and why it’s actually a sign of growth, not failure.

If “yes” slips out of your mouth before you even think it through, you’re not alone. Saying no can feel uncomfortable—especially if you’re used to equating kindness with self-sacrifice. This post explores why it’s so hard to say no, how that ties into guilt and fear, and what it means to set limits without over-explaining. You don’t have to justify your no. You just have to trust that your needs matter, too.

When everything feels like too much and even the smallest thing could send you over the edge, you might be in emotional overload. It’s not about being dramatic—it’s your nervous system saying, this is too much. This post breaks down what emotional overload really looks like, why it happens, and how to ground yourself when it hits. If you’ve been holding too much for too long, this one’s for you.

Let’s be real—setting boundaries can feel really uncomfortable. For a lot of us, even just thinking about saying “no” or asking for space brings up guilt, awkwardness, or a fear that we’re being rude. So if you’ve ever thought, “I know I need better boundaries, but I don’t want to come off like a jerk,” you’re not alone.

Anxiety is more than just worry—it’s a full-body, full-mind experience that can leave you feeling overwhelmed, restless, and exhausted. It shows up in racing thoughts, chest tightness, irritability, and avoidance—not because you don’t care, but because it all feels too much. In this post, we unpack what anxiety really feels like, why it’s not just “being dramatic,” and how you can begin to manage it with real tools and self-compassion.

If you’ve been calling yourself lazy lately, pause. What you’re feeling might not be laziness—it might be burnout. And that’s not a flaw; it’s a signal. Burnout can look like exhaustion, disconnection, or just going through the motions. This post dives into what burnout really is, why it gets mislabeled, and how to start healing by giving yourself more compassion, not more pressure.

Welcome to Uplift, a space for real talk about mental health. I’m Jaymi, a licensed clinical social worker and founder of Vertical Healing. This blog is where I share grounded insights, practical tools, and compassionate reflections on everything from anxiety and burnout to boundaries and self-worth. If you’re craving honest conversations and support for your emotional journey, you’re in the right place.