One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned so far is the power of perspective. Understanding that people experience life through their own unique lens has helped me extend more grace to those around me, especially the people closest to me. Take my boyfriend, for example—he’s a firefighter. Before, I only saw what he shared with me: the exhaustion, the long shifts, the physical toll. But now, I realize there’s an internal weight he carries that I may never fully understand. The things he sees, the people he tries to save (or sometimes, the ones he can’t), and the pressure of showing up every day in a profession that demands so much of him. Before, I might have taken his silence or distance personally, but now I recognize that sometimes he just needs space to process. That alone has shifted the way I support him.

Then there’s my father. His struggle with alcohol and substance use after being discharged from the military shaped so much of my childhood. I watched him go from a man I admired to someone I barely recognized. For so long, I carried anger, confusion, and sadness, wondering why he couldn’t just be the father I needed. But through my studies, I’ve started to understand the depth of what he went through. The transition from military life to civilian life is jarring, and for many, it feels like losing a part of themselves, not to mention he lost his father to alcoholism as well. He wasn’t just struggling with addiction—he was struggling with identity, purpose, and unresolved pain. Learning this hasn’t erased the hurt, but it has helped me extend more compassion toward him and that part of my life.

In many ways, this journey has forced me to confront my own fears and behaviors. I’ve realized that my resistance to marriage isn’t just about modern relationships or independence—it’s deeply tied to my father’s struggles. Seeing his dysfunction made me wary of commitment, afraid of being trapped in something unhealthy. It’s funny because I’m training to help people build strong, lasting marriages, yet I’ve had to unpack my own hesitations about what that truly means. But instead of running from it, I’m learning to explore it, to challenge my assumptions, and to define what a healthy, fulfilling partnership looks like for me.

One of the most important takeaways so far is how crucial it is to show up for yourself before you can show up for others. Whether it’s as a partner, a friend, a therapist, or just a human navigating life, you can’t pour from an empty cup. Since starting this journey, I’ve become more intentional about self-care—not just the surface-level kind but the real, internal work of healing, setting boundaries, and honoring my needs. And in doing so, my relationships have improved in ways I never expected.

I’ve found myself being more patient with people, not just the ones I love but even strangers. That person who cut me off in traffic? Maybe they’re rushing to an emergency. The cashier who seemed rude? Maybe they’re going through something heavy. This shift in perspective has made me softer, more understanding, and more at peace with the world around me.

I came into this field wanting to help others, but the biggest surprise has been how much I’ve helped myself along the way. And I know this is just the beginning.