Sometime in the summer of 2021, Spotify suggested “Walk” by Griff as a song the algorithm thought I might like. The rest was history. Every year, my Spotify Wrapped report confirms my devotion to this song, and to Griff as an artist. Griff is an artist whose connection to the emotions and stories of her family system pours out in her music. Each song is so filled with love, introspection, and hope even in her most difficult confessionals. There is hope in the insight.

“Walk” tops my list as one of the most loving songs ever written. Just put it on your favorite song streamer and walk with it. It’s so affirming. This song expresses so many things I have to say to friends, family, and certainly my clients.

This song is perfect to bring me back to posting on Therapy Jam Sessions.

It’s been a while since I posted. After a while of not communicating regularly with someone – even invisible blog readers – the pressure starts to form about what you will say when you finally resurface. The longer I waited to post something new on Therapy Jam Sessions, the more I psyched myself out. I share this because I know how relatable this is.

Certainly, life got in the way of writing. The state of the world paused me, too. For the current stressors in our community at large, I am still finding my words. That said, the most artistically honest reason for not posting in so long is that I’ve been trying to write something longer than blogs. It started with giving myself permission in 2024 to just read with no pressure to write.

Permission to just take things in with no written response other than my copious notes on Goodreads was probably one of the best things I’ve done for my creative spirit. It was me saying to myself, “all you gotta do is walk.” I read several books a week and did literature studies with a passion I never had in my college English classes. It was a great time.

My brain was getting quite full by the end of 2024. So, at the beginning of 2025, I followed the trend clients introduced me to. I gave myself just one word as my new year’s resolution: WRITER. I started writing every day in what I eventually started calling my “Sci-Fi” journal.

The imagined audience for journaling carries different vibes and objectives. Some journaling is just for you, and some journaling is a draft of words to eventually share. Journaling just for you is great to vent or vomit out an experience with no need to make sense to anyone but yourself. It’s the mental equivalent of pulling everything out of your closet. You need the pile of things out. You can sort it later.

My “Sci-Fi” journal is a different type of journal than the venting kind. It a disciplined practice to develop skills and endurance for longer forms of writing. If you can guess from its title, it’s turning into a science fiction novel set in a world that is my greatest hope for us all someday.

As I write this, I realize that in many ways this song “Walk” is also about the writing process. The lyric “all the countless times in the dead of the night you were with me when no one else could be,” makes me think of how this story has always been with me. It’s a story I made up to get through difficult times when I was younger. It’s a story that gave me enough faith in humanity to become a therapist. In ways like this, our creative expression can be like a friend to us.

I share all of this to model the pursuit of wild dreams as a grounded practice. For many reasons, there are boundaries for therapists sharing about certain personal struggles, past and present. That said, I don’t assume the same boundaries about my hopes. I assume clients benefit from generally knowing that that therapists believe we can all do amazing things.

This post is how Lin Manuel Miranda’s final version of the song, “Burn,” in his musical Hamilton, is an example of choosing more mindful empowering thoughts and actions over your “first draft” reactivity, even when you are heartbroken.

As fiery as the “First Burn” draft is, the final version is the most powerful.  The final version’s power might first be lost on you if you’re in your feelings siding with Eliza. The power of “First Burn” sung as a quintet by five of the artists who portrayed Eliza Schuyler Hamilton in various productions of the show is especially captivating. “First Burn,” makes some sharp points. If you are feeling betrayed by any “Alexander Hamiltons,” you may be cheering on lines like, “your enemy whispers so you have to scream/I know about whispers, I see how you look at my sister.”  You may feel like he deserves to be guilted with lines like, “Explain to the children the pain and embarrassment you put their mother through/When will you learn, they are your legacy?” This version is raw and real. We could call it “brutally honest.”

As compelling as “brutal honesty” may seem because of the “honest” part, most relationship therapists discourage communication in this form. Most of the time the other person deserves to have their feelings considered. Reconciliation is easiest when kind words bring down defenses. That said, at this point in the Hamilton story even I’m going to say that no one needs to measure their words on his behalf. Eliza doesn’t need to maintain her composure, but in the final version of “Burn,” she chooses to. And this is where we take notes from her.

In the scene and song that made it into the Hamilton production, instead of showing some rant that includes Hamilton witnessing her vitriol, Eliza appears alone. I found that choice to be so sad and lonely at first until I realized how, as her choice, it was so much more powerful.  In the final version’s lyrics, she reviews the betrayal with keen observations. She reflects on her initial impressions of her husband and how those connect with his betrayal. She accepts the reality that he is unreachable; “your sentences border on senseless, and you are paranoid in every paragraph/how they perceive you, you, you, you!” She realizes there is nothing to be said to him, so she makes a decision about her own rights, “The world has no right to my heart, the world has no place in our bed, they don’t get to know what I said.” She realizes she cannot control him, and how he is not trustworthy, and she lets him go. It’s heartbreaking, but so brave and open.

In my mind, this song is the turning point is where Eliza becomes the main character in this story. The beginning of the play foreshadowed the final events of Hamilton’s life so effectively that the songs depicting them are essentially reprisals of earlier songs and earlier situations. This time around, we are prompted to experience them all from Eliza’s perspective. This is why that last songs and scenes are such tearjerkers. Now connected to Eliza, we feel every loss with her.

So why is it more powerful to be sad and alone than angry and lashing out? Because it takes getting sad and alone to heal. Just like with physical injuries, you cannot get the best care when you are thrashing around. We certainly understand how you might need to initially thrash to survive, but we don’t want to stay in that that. We want to get back to the place of growth. For that we must have a quieter and more reflective, “Burn.”

Bonus Thoughts:

You might be interested to know I was thinking of Hamilton in this specific instance in effort to “complete the stress cycle,” as Emily Nagoski, PhD, and her twin sister Amelia Nagoski, PhD advised in their book Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle.  This book goes beyond the nebulous and often glib advice to, “just practice self-care,” to avoid a crushing attack of emotional exhaustion.  It explains how the stress cycle works, and how to restore your energy by completing it. The Nagoski sisters detail why consciously seeking out experiences like laughter, creative expression, and crying are essential for restoring your mental health after a you have been in stress mode. Crying is actually one of my favorites. The last part of Hamilton, starting with “Burn” is a great way to get tears out. Listening to “Burn” to prevent burnout seems apt.

Resilience is also a meaningful quality in the absence of a crisis. Daily pressures and responsibilities related to finances, childrearing and workplace demands sometimes lead to conflict and tension. A noteworthy hallmark of a resilient marriage is a willingness to laugh or use humor to halt unproductive communications. A couple I worked with noticed that if their fights were spiraling, it often helped if one was willing to break the tension by smiling, opening their arms and exclaiming: “let’s hug it out!” Fans of the television show Entourage will recognize this gesture as a tribute to the legendary character Ari Gold for whom this couple shared a sense of amusement and fondness. There are obviously other communication strategies that help couples navigate more serious conflict. But a willingness to employ humor where appropriate is a characteristic shared by many resilient relationships.

As Sheryl Sandberg emphasizes in her new book Option B: Facing Adversity, Building Resilience and Finding Joy, the good news is that resilience is not an inherited trait; it is fluid and can be built. To develop resilience in a marriage, consider the value of offering support in a crisis rather than blaming and lashing out. And don’t underestimate the value of positive humor.