Sally DiCesare

There’s something I’ve been thinking about as we come to the end of this month together. We’ve talked about hearing yourself. About getting to know your own energy. About noticing the people, places, conversations, and choices that leave you feeling more like yourself—and the ones that somehow leave you feeling a little less so. And […]

Boundaries can help protect you while you’re learning something even more powerful: how to stay full of yourself. Over the past few weeks, we’ve been talking about learning to hear yourself again. That quieter voice underneath what everyone else thinks you should do, who you’ve learned to be, and all the ways you’ve become very

What your changing energy may be telling you before your mind has figured it out. Have you ever been having a perfectly good day, and then one conversation changes everything? Maybe nothing particularly upsetting was even said. There wasn’t an argument. No one did anything you could point to as wrong. But somehow, after the

Last month, we had some honest conversations. We talked about the ways we slowly lose ourselves—not all at once, but little by little, while we’re busy taking care of everyone else. We explored why it’s so hard to say what we need, why we work so hard to keep the peace, and why trusting ourselves

I thought this essay was about finding the courage to speak. It turned out to be about something much quieter. Can I tell you about something that happened recently? We had just finished a meditation. The room was quiet. Neither of us seemed in a hurry to speak. My client sat there for a moment

I didn’t realize how much of my life was spent paying attention to everyone else until I began wondering how often I paid the same attention to myself. It wasn’t an accusation. It was simply a question. And like so many meaningful questions, it came quietly. For years, I would have described myself as easygoing.

I wonder if you’ve ever stopped long enough to ask yourself how you became the person everyone depends on. Not the person who simply helps—most of us are happy to help—but the one everyone quietly comes to rely on. You’re the one who remembers the appointments no one else remembers, notices when someone is upset

For more than forty-five years, one skill helped me care for thousands of patients. I never realized where I’d learned it. I’ve always been able to read a room. Long before anyone said a word, I could usually sense who was anxious, who needed reassurance, who wanted to talk, and who simply needed someone to

Before life got busy, there was a way you naturally moved through the world. Last week, we talked about the possibility that you haven’t lost yourself. Maybe you’ve simply spent so much time taking care of responsibilities, meeting expectations, and showing up for everyone else that you’ve lost touch with your own voice. So this