The marriage. The children. The parents. The career. The version of yourself that everyone needed you to be. And somewhere in the middle of all of it, you lost the thread back to yourself.
This is not a wellness problem. You don't need more self-care, or better boundaries, or a rebranding of your life.
Something deeper is asking for your attention — the question underneath all the questions: who am I when I stop being who I had to become?
You're in the passage now. The one that opens when the old roles no longer fit, when the life you built starts asking whether it was really yours, when you sense — bone deep — that something is over and something else is possible, but you don't have language for it yet.
This passage has a name. And it has a way through.
You are not too much. You have simply been pouring yourself into containers too small to hold you.
This is not about fixing what's broken. You are not broken. It is about recovering what got covered — the woman underneath the accommodations, the apologies, the years of making yourself smaller so everyone else could be comfortable.
Who were you before you became who you had to become? We begin with recovery — of the self that got covered by decades of roles and other people's needs. This may include letter writing, relationship inventory, and the slow excavation of the promises you made young that no longer serve you.
Which relationships are nourishing, and which are running on history and habit? Where are you still seeking approval from containers too small to hold you? What is your marriage, your friendship, your family actually asking of you — and what do you want back?
You are in the last trimester. That is not a morbid fact — it is a clarifying one. What matters now? What do you want the remaining time to actually feel like? What would it mean to stop waiting for permission to live as yourself?
I am the woman who has walked this territory — and is still walking it.
After more than three decades as a therapist, what I know is this: the most important thing I bring to this work is not my training, though I have plenty of it. It is that I have lived the transitions I am asking you to face. The marriage that needed reckoning. The relationships I stayed in too long, and the ones I grieved when they showed me their actual size. The long inventory of choices that once looked like mistakes and now look like the exact steps that brought me here.
I did not arrive at this work from the outside. I arrived through my own passage — the spiral kind, the non-linear kind, the kind that doesn't resolve neatly and doesn't need to.
What I offer is not a hierarchy. I will not sit across from you as the one who has it figured out. I will sit beside you, as someone who knows this territory from the inside — its darkness, its unexpected openings, the moments when the body knows before the mind catches up.
You are not behind. You are exactly where your life has brought you. And this is where we begin.
There was a night, not long ago, in a place far from home, when two things I had been holding as true dissolved at the same time.
My body knew before my mind did. That is how it works, when something real is happening.
I was not alone, and I was completely alone. The person with me could not meet me where I was. That was its own kind of knowing.
I did not collapse. But I was changed. That night is part of why I do this work — because I know what it feels like to be in the gap between who you were and who you are becoming, and to find, in that gap, that you are still standing.
Many women have been told that vulnerability is the path to connection. And it is — but only with containers large enough to hold what you bring.
Part of this passage is learning the difference between making yourself smaller and being discerning.
The behaviors can look identical from the outside. But one drains you and one protects you. One says I am less than I am around you. The other says I am exactly who I am, and I am choosing where to spend my most precious material.
We meet twice a month for 75 to 90 minutes — enough space to go somewhere real, not so much that it becomes overwhelming.
A complete arc with a beginning, a middle, and a culmination. Long enough for the real material to surface and move.
In person if you are local to Providence, or remotely if you are not. The work travels.
At the close, the women I have worked with individually come together for a small group retreat — not strangers, but women who have each done their own deep work and are ready to witness one another across it.
For the full six-month container. Sessions are private pay. A superbill is provided so you may submit to your insurance for potential reimbursement — keeping the work clean, between you and me, without a third party at the table.
Facing the Light is mentoring, not psychotherapy. As a clinician licensed in Rhode Island and Massachusetts, I can provide a superbill on request, which some clients submit to their insurance for partial reimbursement.
The light is not somewhere else. It is what becomes visible when you stop being who you had to become in order to survive.
It is for the woman who is done with surface. Who has tried the other things and knows something deeper is asking for her attention. Who is ready — not perfect, not resolved, just ready — to stop being who she had to become and find out who she actually is.
If that is you, I would be honored to walk beside you.
There are two ways in. Neither is a test. This is the beginning of the conversation.
Fill out the short reflection below and I'll be in touch to schedule a conversation.
Curious but still circling? Reach out directly at eileen@facingthelight.com and let's simply talk.