Pier 34 is a non profit organization focused on providing the best quality mental health to those in need and unable to afford such care.
12/24/2025
✨ A Christmas Blessing
As we stand on the edge of Christmas,
may your heart find a moment of quiet before the celebration begins.
May what feels heavy be set down for the night. May what feels unfinished be held with grace. And may peace meet you not in perfection, but right where you are.
Tomorrow is coming.
Hope is near.
And tonight, you are allowed to rest. 🤍
Merry Christmas from Pier 34.
12/22/2025
When Hope Arrives Slowly
Hope doesn’t always come with trumpets or sudden relief. Sometimes it arrives quietly — in the middle of a hard season, wrapped in waiting.
At Christmas, we remember that hope entered the world small and unnoticed.
Not in power or certainty, but in humility and trust.
If you’re still hurting, still waiting, still unsure — you’re not behind. Slow hope is still hope. And it is enough for today.
12/19/2025
The Silence Between Prayers
There are seasons when prayers feel unanswered — when heaven seems quiet, and the waiting stretches longer than expected.
Christmas reminds us that silence is not absence. God often does His deepest work in the quiet places, long before anything changes on the outside.
If you’re carrying unanswered prayers this season, you’re not forgotten. Hope was born into silence once before — in a stable, in the dark, without announcement. And it still meets us there now.
May peace find you in the waiting. May trust grow even when answers haven’t come yet. And may you remember: the silence is not empty — it is held. 💙
12/17/2025
Hope for the Ones Who Are Hurting This Season
Not everyone feels joyful in December.
Some are carrying grief, exhaustion, or quiet heartbreak while the world rushes to celebrate.
If this season feels heavy, know this: you are not forgotten.
Hope doesn’t always arrive loud or wrapped in certainty — sometimes it comes as simple permission to rest, to feel, and to keep going gently.
There is room for you here, exactly as you are. 💙
12/15/2025
A Soft Place to Land When You’re Tired
The holidays can be loud — even when they’re beautiful. If you’re tired in ways sleep doesn’t fix, you’re not doing it wrong.
You don’t need to push harder, explain yourself, or hold it all together tonight.
Sometimes the most healing thing is permission to rest without guilt.
May you find a soft place to land —
a quiet moment, a warm drink, a deep breath and remember that you are allowed to be held, too. 🤍
12/12/2025
When Family Dynamics Feel Hard
Not every battle needs your participation. Compassionate detachment is choosing peace without shutting your heart.
It’s loving people while releasing the pressure to fix, absorb, or explain. You can show up with kindness — and still protect your inner calm. 💙
12/10/2025
We’re told the holidays should look a certain way— perfect photos, perfect plans, perfect families.
But perfection is just a quiet pressure in a glittered disguise. The truth is—joy isn’t found in what’s flawless. It’s found in what’s real.
Burned cookies still taste like memories.
A messy living room means people are together.
A slower rhythm might be better than a perfect plan.
Let the season be warm instead of perfect.
Present instead of polished. Kind instead of impressive.
That’s where peace actually lives. 💙
12/10/2025
Letting Go of Holiday Perfection
We’re told the holidays should look a certain way— perfect photos, perfect plans, perfect families.
But perfection is just a quiet pressure in a glittered disguise. The truth is—joy isn’t found in what’s flawless. It’s found in what’s real.
Burned cookies still taste like memories.
A messy living room means people are together.
A slower rhythm might be better than a perfect plan.
Let the season be warm instead of perfect.
Present instead of polished. Kind instead of impressive.
That’s where peace actually lives. 💙
12/08/2025
How to Slow Down When Everything Speeds Up
The holidays have a way of rushing past us.
One moment it’s quiet, and the next — schedules, events, noise, expectations.
If you feel yourself getting swept into the rush, here are three gentle places to pause:
• Breathe before you say yes. Not every invitation needs your energy.
• Step outside for 60 seconds. Night air, morning light — anything that brings you back into your body.
• Choose one moment to savor. A small laugh, a warm drink, a sparkler in your hand.
Slowing down isn’t about stopping life —
it’s about noticing it again. 💛
12/05/2025
Emotional Boundaries for the Holidays
Sometimes the holidays are loud, bright, and busy — and your heart feels a little quieter than the room you’re standing in.
It’s okay to celebrate and still protect your peace.
It’s okay to smile and still say, “I need a minute.”
It’s okay to show up — without giving every piece of yourself away.
Emotional boundaries don’t dim your light.
They help it shine in a way that doesn’t burn you out. 💙
12/03/2025
When the Season Feels Heavy — Finding Calm in December
December doesn’t feel magical for everyone.
Sometimes the lights feel too bright, the pace too fast, and the expectations too heavy to carry.
If this season feels more overwhelming than joyful, you’re not alone.
You’re allowed to slow down.
You’re allowed to breathe.
You’re allowed to make your holidays gentle, even if the world around you is loud.
Peace rarely arrives in the noise — it usually comes in the small, quiet choices:
a slower morning,
a shorter to-do list,
a moment of stillness you give yourself without guilt.
Let this be a December defined not by pressure, but by presence.
Not by perfection, but by peace. 💙
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The term “little brother” can awaken memories of sibling rivalry, broken toys, and tattle-tales. The term “little brother” can also bring to mind fond memories of forts, mud-pies, and a person who knows you better than you know yourself. Rob was my “little brother” and the mention of his name echos all of these recollections.
Rob passed away at the age of 34 after a long battle with Bipolar Disorder. He was found as if napping in his apartment on a summer afternoon and I will never know why. Rob had suffered for 14 years, but with therapy and medication, he was beginning to experience an improved quality of life. This help should have come much sooner.
My grief consumed me, missing him so much at times I could hardly breathe. I had come to think of myself as his safe harbor that he could turn toward when he was sad, sick, or afraid. But what I realized was that I had not only lost my best friend, but my pier on the water as well. Where would I turn now?
As a therapist, I found myself exasperated with the lack of mental health resources available for those not only in need, but as human beings, deserving of help. One morning, I approached my office mate. We tossed around ideas for months, with mostly me tossing and Donnie telling me why it wouldn’t work. But we finally decided on a model that we mostly agreed on.
Excited to move forward, I approached Susie, who I had known for many years. We all met for lunch one afternoon and committed to this journey of providing a pier for our community. For those deserving of being seen, of being heard-of becoming whole.