Living With Intention

In sessions, I find myself talking about intentionality quite a bit.

Not because I think we need to be intentional about every single thing we do. That would be exhausting. There are plenty of things we do on autopilot, and honestly, that's not necessarily a bad thing. We don't need to consciously think through every step of brushing our teeth or making breakfast.

But how often are we actually present for what we're doing?

Think about driving somewhere familiar. You get in your car, start driving, and before you know it, you're pulling into the parking lot. You don't really remember the drive. You were physically there, but your mind was somewhere else.

I remember this happening to me at one of my old jobs. The job was located near an apartment I used to live in. One day, I was driving to work and, without really thinking about where I was going, I ended up at my old apartment.

I had driven there so many times that my brain just took over.

I wasn't present. (I promise this was a one-off!)

Thankfully, the consequences were pretty minor. I just had to laugh at myself and redirect.

But we can move through much more of our lives this way than we realize.

We can go through our morning, have conversations, respond to emails, interact with our families, and make decisions without really stopping to notice what we're doing.

What Helped?

I see another version of this in therapy all the time.

A client might come into session and tell me, “I'm feeling better.”

Of course, that's great. That's what we want.

However sometimes when I ask what has been helping, they aren't really sure.

Maybe their anxiety has decreased, or their depression has lifted. They've been getting through difficult situations a little differently; however, they aren’t able to identify what they were doing differently or what is causing the shift.

And that matters.

Let's say I'm having a really difficult moment and my anxiety is high. I use a grounding skill, like the five senses exercise, and eventually notice that I'm feeling a little calmer.

There is a difference between simply feeling better and recognizing:

“I was struggling. I used a skill. It helped.”

Now I know something about myself that I didn't know before.

The next time I'm struggling, I have something I can try. I'm not starting from scratch.

I'm learning that I can pay attention to myself, learn what helps, and use that information the next time I need it. That can change the way we see ourselves. Instead of only seeing the things we struggle with, we can start to see ourselves as people who are capable of learning what we need.

Sometimes we are already doing things that help us, but we don't recognize them as coping. Intentionality can help us notice those moments too.

Instead of thinking, “I don't know how I got through that,” we can start to recognize, “I actually did some things that helped me get through that.”

That can be incredibly empowering.

It doesn't mean the skill will work every time, and it doesn't mean I can make difficult feelings disappear whenever I want. It means I've learned something about what helps me.

Curiosity Changes What We Do

Sometimes, though, paying attention to our patterns can bring up a lot of judgment.

Why am I still doing this?

I should be better at this by now.

Why can't I just handle it?

Intentionality gives us another option: curiosity.

Instead of immediately deciding that something we did means something is wrong with us, we can get curious about what happened.

What was going on for me in that moment?

What was I needing?

What did I try?

What seemed to help?

What didn't?

We might realize that something helped, that something didn't, or simply notice a pattern we hadn't seen before.

That's useful information.

And curiosity gives us somewhere to go with it.

If I decide, “I always mess this up,” there isn't much left to do.

If I think, “Hmm, that didn't go the way I wanted. What happened?” I have somewhere to go from there. There is room for movement.

I can try something different. I can adjust. I can stay in the process.

When we can get curious instead of immediately judging ourselves, we can actually learn from what happened.

It's Not Just About When We're Struggling

Intentionality isn't only about what we do when we're having a difficult time.

It also affects how we move through our everyday lives.

If I'm not paying attention, I can easily fall into patterns simply because they're familiar. I can respond to people out of habit. I can spend my time in ways that don't actually line up with what matters to me. I can say yes because saying no feels uncomfortable. I can avoid something because avoidance feels easier in the moment.

This is where I think intentionality connects with our values.

When we slow down enough to pay attention, we can start to notice how we're actually living. How am I showing up in my relationships? Am I connecting with people in a way that feels like me? Am I spending my time in ways that matter to me? Am I moving toward the things I say are important to me, or am I just doing what feels familiar?

Sometimes we may realize that we don't really like how we're showing up. Maybe we're avoiding something, saying yes when we don't want to, or spending our time in ways that don't feel particularly meaningful.

That doesn't mean we've done something wrong. It just gives us something to look at.

We can get curious about why we're doing what we're doing and decide whether we want to keep going in that direction or try something different. The point isn't to judge ourselves when that happens. It's to notice.

From there, we can decide what we want to do differently. That might mean using a coping skill, setting a boundary, having a difficult conversation, or reaching out for support. It doesn't have to be a big change. Sometimes intentionality is simply noticing that the way we're doing something isn't working for us and deciding to try something different.

We are going to go on autopilot. We're going to react. We're going to make choices that don't line up with our values. We're going to have moments when we aren't as present as we would like to be.

That's part of being human.

For me, living with intention isn't about controlling every moment or making the “right” choice every time. It's about paying attention to what we're doing, what helps, what matters to us, and how we want to show up.

It's learning to notice our own lives while we're actually living them. To recognize what helps. To get curious when things don't go the way we hoped. To come back to what matters to us.

We may not always know what to do next; however, the more intentional we become, the more we learn about ourselves.

And sometimes, that's where change begins.

ADHD, Goal Setting & the Fear of Losing Momentum

Living with ADHD often means living with big dreams and just as big frustrations. You might have heard—and even tried—the classic advice: “Break big goals into small steps.”

And yet… even when you know that strategy works, you might avoid it. Why?

For many people with ADHD, there’s a hidden fear at play:

“If I stop, I might never start again.”

That worry can shape the way you approach motivation, productivity, and even your sense of self-trust. Let’s break down why this happens—and what can help.

The “All-or-Nothing” ADHD Mindset

When you finally catch a wave of focus, it feels precious. You ride the momentum hard, because deep down you worry: “If I pause, I’ll lose it.”

This can lead to pushing yourself until exhaustion, skipping breaks, or resisting small steps in favor of “one big push.”

The reality is:

• Momentum does sometimes fade.

• That doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

• It means your brain works in rhythms, not in straight lines.

The Avoidance Cycle

Another layer of this struggle is the avoidance cycle. When a task feels overwhelming—or when the fear of losing momentum kicks in—it’s easy to avoid starting altogether. Avoidance is one of those coping strategies that feels good in the moment but costs us more over time. So while avoidance is often used as a coping strategy, it is important to remember that it is a maladaptive way to cope despite the instant gratification we might feel in the moment.

Here’s how the cycle plays out:

1. Event – Something comes up that feels overwhelming, stressful, or uncomfortable. (Example: a big work task, paying bills, or even putting clothes away.)

2. Discomfort – Anxiety, fear, self-doubt, or overwhelm sets in. The body and brain signal: “This feels bad. Let’s escape.”

3. Avoidance – We decide to delay or not do the task. Maybe we scroll, distract, or walk away.

4. Instant Relief – For a short while, it feels better. The stress quiets down and we feel like we’ve escaped the pressure.

5. Increased Stress & Shame (Long-Term) – The problem hasn’t gone away; it’s still waiting. Now, guilt, shame, and more pressure build on top of the original discomfort.

Then the cycle repeats. Each time we avoid, the momentary relief teaches our brain that avoidance works—even though the long-term cost is higher. Over time, the discomfort and shame multiply with each round. That makes the task feel bigger, scarier, and more loaded the next time we face it. It’s not just about the task anymore—it’s also about the shame of not doing it earlier.

Avoidance works in the short term because it relieves the pressure. Think about doing the dishes. At first, leaving them in the sink feels easier than tackling them right away. Avoiding them brings a quick wave of relief.

But the longer you wait, the more the pile grows—and the harder it feels to start. Suddenly, a simple 5-minute task looks like a mountain. We go from a couple dishes in the sink, to a sink filled with dishes overflowing on to the countertops.

ADHD often magnifies this pattern. Small steps get delayed until they feel impossible. Avoidance builds on itself. And shame starts to whisper: “Why can’t I just do this?”

Shame & ADHD

This is where the shame spiral kicks in. Many people with ADHD grow up hearing they’re “lazy,” “unmotivated,” or “inconsistent.” So, when momentum slips, shame rushes in to confirm those old stories. This ends up feeding into shame.

When we buy into shame’s narrative (“I’m lazy,” “I’ll never get it together,” “Something’s wrong with me”), it chips away at self-esteem in a few ways:

• Identity fusion: Instead of seeing a behavior (“I avoided that task”), shame convinces us it’s an identity (“I am a failure”).

• Erosion of self-trust: Each time shame takes over, it feels harder to believe we can follow through next time.

• Internalized criticism: Over time, the voice of shame can sound like our default inner voice, making self-compassion feel unnatural or even undeserved.

The result? A fragile sense of self-worth that feels conditional on productivity or perfection.

When we replace shame with curiosity and compassion, the opposite happens:

• Self-esteem strengthens (“I can struggle and still be worthy”).

• Motivation shifts from fear-driven to values-driven (“I want to move toward what matters, not just away from failure”).

• The avoidance cycle weakens, because mistakes become learning moments instead of proof of inadequacy.

Reframes can look like:

• Avoidance is not laziness—it’s a coping strategy.

• Shame is not proof of failure—it’s a signal you need more compassion, not criticism.

• Progress isn’t erased because you paused—you can always re-enter.

Instead of helping us “try harder,” shame drains energy, focus, and hope. Feeding into shame erodes self-esteem and sabotages motivation by keeping you stuck in avoidance—whereas compassion restores trust in yourself and makes small, sustainable action possible.

Willingness vs. Waiting for Motivation

One powerful skill for breaking the cycle is willingness.

Instead of waiting for the perfect wave of motivation, willingness asks:
Am I willing to take one small step, even if I don’t feel like it right now?

This could look like:

• Washing just one plate instead of the whole sink.

• Opening your computer, even if you’re not ready to write.

• Setting a timer for 5 minutes to “just start.”

Willingness lowers the stakes. It builds trust that you can move forward without waiting for the “perfect” mindset.

Practical Tools to Break the Cycle

1. Name the Fear

When you catch yourself hesitating, say it out loud:

• “I’m afraid to stop because momentum matters to me.”

• “This isn’t procrastination, it’s me protecting my focus.”

Naming it softens the shame.

2. Create Gentle Restart Points

Think of these as bookmarks for your brain.

• “Next time, I’ll just open the file.”

• “Tomorrow, I’ll reread the last sentence I wrote.”

Restart points reduce the pressure of “starting from scratch.”

3. Practice Willingness

Ask yourself: “What’s the smallest step I’m willing to take right now?” Then do only that.

4. Trust the Cycle

Focus will ebb and flow. That’s ADHD reality—not a personal flaw. Remind yourself:

• Pausing is not quitting.

• Breaks protect energy.

• Momentum can be rebuilt again and again.

Final Takeaway

If you live with ADHD, you don’t have to finish everything in one sitting. You don’t have to fear pauses. You don’t have to drown in shame when motivation slips.

Your progress doesn’t have to look perfect to be meaningful. With willingness, gentle restart points, and a compassionate view of the cycle, you can move toward your goals—without burning yourself out in the process.

Let’s Talk About Body Image

One of my favorite, but also one of the more challenging, exercises to do with clients is body image timeline work.

I usually start by asking clients to think back to when they first remember noticing their body. From there, we start mapping out different experiences throughout their life where they received messages about their body, had experiences with their body, or started forming opinions about what their body was supposed to look like.

Sometimes the things that come up are pretty direct. A comment from a doctor. Something said in health class. A diet advertisement. Comparing yourself to an actor or actress. A makeup commercial telling us what we need to change about ourselves.

Other times, it is something that may seem much smaller.

Maybe it was hearing Aunt Karen comment that someone had “let themselves go.” And, to be clear, Aunt Karen probably could have kept that comment to herself. It was rude and inappropriate. But I won't get into that here.

Maybe it was noticing which bodies received compliments. Maybe it was comparing yourself to friends, siblings, or people you saw online. Maybe it was an experience where you felt embarrassed or uncomfortable in your body.

And usually, it isn't just one thing.

It is a collection of experiences that happen over time.

We receive messages about what bodies are supposed to look like, which bodies are considered attractive or healthy, what we should change, and sometimes even what our bodies supposedly say about us as people. We also have our own experiences that shape how we understand and relate to our bodies.

Then you add an eating disorder into the mix.

When Body Image Becomes Part of Recovery

First, I want to clarify something because there is a common misconception that every eating disorder involves body image concerns.

It doesn't.

Eating disorders are complex, and not everyone with an eating disorder is struggling with their body image or trying to change the way their body looks.

For people whose eating disorder does involve body image, though, it can add another complicated layer to recovery work.

One of the things that can make body image work so challenging is that you can't get away from your body.

In other areas of our lives, if we know something is a trigger, we may be able to create some distance from it. We can avoid certain situations, take a break, or change our environment.

Your body doesn't really give you that option.

You may avoid looking in the mirror. You may try not to think about your body. You may find ways to cover it up or avoid situations where you feel particularly aware of it. However, there are still going to be reminders throughout the day because you are living in your body.

So if we can't avoid our body, where do we go from here?

Where the Work Begins

We start working on our response.

That might mean shifting the way we talk about our bodies. It might mean reducing body checking behaviors. It might mean making space for body neutrality rather than trying to force ourselves into body positivity.

And sometimes, it may simply mean finding a little more kindness toward a body that we don't particularly like right now.

I also want to acknowledge that this work doesn't happen overnight.

If we go back to that first timeline, we can see that our current relationship with our bodies didn't develop overnight either. It was shaped by years of comments, comparisons, experiences, and messages about what our bodies were supposed to look like.

So it makes sense that changing that relationship takes time, too. Even if we wish it could change quicker.

I don't want to minimize how hard that can be. It is one thing to tell someone to “love your body,” and another thing entirely to actually feel that way.

The goal doesn't have to be loving your body all the time.

It can start with creating a little more space around the thoughts and feelings we have about our bodies.

Looking at the Other Side of the Timeline

This is where I usually come back to the body image timeline.

After we spend time looking at the experiences that may have shaped someone's relationship with their body, I will often ask clients to create a second timeline.

This time, we look at something different:

What has your body done for you?

Your body may have healed broken bones, played sports you loved, carried you through difficult illnesses, held your child, danced, run, hugged the people you love, gotten you through a long day, and simply continued showing up for you.

This isn't about creating a list of reasons you should suddenly love or appreciate your body.

It is about noticing that the story we have about our bodies can become very narrow. We can become so focused on how our bodies look, what we wish were different, or what we've been taught to criticize that those things start to feel like the whole story.

The second timeline gives us an opportunity to widen that story.

Our relationship with our bodies can be shaped by years of comments, comparisons, expectations, and experiences. Those things matter, and they can have a real impact on how we see ourselves.

But they aren't the whole story.

Our bodies are not only the parts we like or dislike. They are not only how they look, how they fit into clothes, or how they compare to someone else's body. There are many different pieces to our relationship with our bodies, and sometimes we need space to notice all of them.

For me, that is what the two timelines are really about.

The first helps us understand where some of our beliefs and feelings about our bodies came from.

The second helps us remember that our relationship with our bodies is more than those experiences.

We can start by making room for a more accurate picture of our bodies, including the parts that are difficult, the parts we appreciate, what our bodies have experienced, and what they may still allow us to experience.

Sometimes that is where body image work begins.