Tell the Truth—Even When It’s Hard

Although I’m widely known as the “millennial therapist” because of my Instagram handle, I’m also the author of It’s On Me and a spokesperson for Yves Saint Laurent Beauty’s recent “Abuse is Not Love” campaign—an initiative aimed at combating intimate partner violence. 

The reality is, I never imagined becoming a brand, and especially not one linked to voicing the hard, uncomfortable truths people sometimes need to hear. Confrontation makes me want to die inside—truly. My nervous system prefers I stay in my lane, avoid conflict, and, ideally, never have to say what someone might not want to hear. I’d rather swallow gravel than return a wrong order at a restaurant. And yet, somehow, I’ve built an entire career on the therapy equivalent of doing exactly that.

In every public offering, I’ve resisted the urge to wrap hard truths in an abundance of fluff until they lost their meaning. I don’t pat people on the back for merely trying, nor do I say things like, “You’re exactly where you need to be.” I speak my actual beliefs—directly, honestly, and with enough humor to soften the existential dread. And surprisingly, people don’t run away; they lean in.

Of course, there were moments I questioned whether I was doing it “right.” I remember a journalist requesting a photo of me looking serious and “wise,” and I had no idea how to pose—should I squint or stare into the distance as if contemplating mortality? I also remember hesitating before posting something brutally honest one time, something along the lines of, “If you have a pattern of being in harmful relationships, maybe the problem is you.” (I’m paraphrasing, but you get the gist.) I dreaded the comments section, yet I posted it anyway.

At the core of it all, I kept telling the truth—even when it was unbearably uncomfortable. So, did I build a brand? I suppose. But more than that, I forged a space where honesty feels less like an attack and more like an invitation.