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Monday 10am - 6pm Tuesday 10am - 7pm Wednesday 10am - 7pm Thursday 10am - 7pm

Discovering Joy, LLC, 9488 West Flamingo Road Ste 102, Las Vegas, NV (2026)

12/25/2025

🎄🎅🎁 🎄

12/19/2025

Children of immigrants will do everything except feel the actual hurt of “no one thought about me.”
 We’ll clean the whole house, troubleshoot everyone’s problems, answer emails we ignored for 3 months — all to avoid admitting: “Wow… that really stung.”

We weren’t taught to say, “My feelings are hurt.”
 We were taught to swallow it, stay helpful, and pretend we didn’t need anything in the first place.

But here’s the plot twist no one told us growing up: You can’t move on by outrunning your feelings. You move on by letting yourself feel the exact thing you’ve been avoiding — the disappointment, the hurt, the “I wish someone cared enough to check on me.”

That feeling won’t break you. It’s actually the doorway out.
Feel it → Name it → Free yourself.

Everything else? Just emotional procrastination dressed up as productivity.

12/17/2025

Children of immigrants see rest and immediately think they’re disappointing the entire bloodline.
 Like somehow closing your eyes for 10 minutes means your great-great-grandparents are shaking their heads from the astral plane. 😩😂

But plot twist: Our ancestors ALSO took naps under trees. 🌳 They rested when the season changed. They slowed down in winter because… biology.

Meanwhile our protector parts are like: “Get up. We don’t rest. We hustle until our joints file a complaint.” And our exile parts are whispering: “Can we just… chill? I’m tired.” While our healthy Self is like: “My loves… sit down. It’s WINTER. The sun clocked out at 4pm.” 😅

Here’s the truth: Rest doesn’t mean you stopped caring. Rest means you stopped abandoning yourself.

This winter season, give your nervous system what it’s been begging for: ✨ Slowing down ✨ Cozying up ✨ Doing nothing without guilt ✨ Letting your parts feel… safe

You’re not lazy. You’re learning how to exist without guilt — and that is ancestral healing in real time.
If hibernating animals can disappear for months and still be celebrated, you can take a nap without disappointing the ancestors. 🙌🏽💛

12/12/2025

Adult Children of Immigrants Starter Pack: ☑️ Never resting without guilt (because apparently sitting down is a crime in 47 countries) ☑️ Apologizing for having needs (“Sorry for being… alive?”) ☑️ Translating every emotion into “I’m fine” (even when your left eye is twitching) ☑️ But also: resilient AF and healing the entire family line 🙌🏽

Here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: Growing up as a child of immigrants means you were the emotional translator, the helper, the good one, the strong one… sometimes the only one. And that creates habits—like guilt for resting, fear of disappointing people, and the default setting of “I’m fine” even when you’re internally buffering.

But hear me out:
 Healing isn’t about becoming less strong. It’s about letting your strength work for you instead of against you.
✨ Rest without guilt. ✨ Let your needs matter. ✨ Say how you actually feel, not the emotionally-bilingual version. ✨ Break one pattern at a time so the next generation doesn’t inherit that “I’m fine” glitch.

You helping yourself is how you help everyone who came before you and everyone who comes after you.
We’re rewriting the starter pack now — with boundaries, joy, rest, and actual emotional vocabulary. 🙌🏽💛

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12/08/2025

So many of the people I work with are the default helpers, the ones who hold everything together while quietly falling apart. And I’m often the first person to say, “Hey… I see how much you do. I see how invisible it can feel.”
 Because this is a familiar story for children of immigrants. We grew up reading every non-verbal cue like our lives depended on it… the irritated sighs, the light footsteps (good mood?) or the stomps (not good). We learned early that if everyone else was okay, then we were supposed to be okay too.
 ✨Hypervigilance disguised as responsibility. ✨Self-sacrifice disguised as strength.
You: “No one ever asks how I’m doing.” Also you: “It’s fine, I’ll just do it myself, easier for everyone.”

Healing? Healing looks like letting people experience the consequences of not planning ahead. Healing looks like loosening your grip on responsibility so others can pick up their share. Healing looks like remembering your needs matter even when no one asks. Healing looks like not being the emotional shock absorber for every room you walk into.
You deserve support too. You deserve to be checked on too. You deserve to be seen too.
                             

12/05/2025

Motherhood is wild. My go-to line with my kids? “Don’t waste my brain space on something you already know the answer to.”

Because listen… as we get older, our bandwidth is basically: ☑ keep the household running ☑ keep the children alive ☑ maybe remember to drink water ☑ try not to dissociate by 3pm
When you’re operating at bare minimum survival mode, every neuron counts. The mental real estate is premium… Beverly Hills pricing.

And this isn’t just a mom thing. Children of immigrants know this extra well — we grew up being the family’s chief problem-solver, strategic planner, and designated phone-call-to-Comcast maker. Our “conceptual and planning skills” have been used like unlimited data plans since childhood.

So if you’ve got adults in your life who want to use your brain as their personal Google Calendar… Who want you to plan, think ahead, organize, analyze… So they can just show up and execute — but don’t reciprocate? Baby, that might be a relationship to re-evaluate.

Protect your brain space. Protect your peace. Protect the last 3 functioning synapses you have left.

Your future self — and your inner child who never got a break — will thank you.

12/03/2025

Learning to stay in the good place a little bit longer.

As children of immigrants, many of us were raised by parents who didn’t have the luxury of slowing down. Rest wasn’t safety. Enjoyment wasn’t guaranteed. If things felt good, it usually meant the next challenge was right around the corner. So our nervous systems learned to scan for danger even in moments of peace.

In adulthood, that shows up as rushing to the next goal, feeling suspicious of ease, or not knowing how to let a good moment actually land in the body.
 Our Parts learned that staying in joy was risky.

In IFS terms, our Protectors are always on alert: the part that prepares for the worst, the part that can’t stop planning, the part that shuts down joy because it feels “too good to be true.”
They’re not trying to ruin things— they’re trying to keep us alive in the ways they learned how.

But healing means gently teaching these Parts that we’re safe now.
 That it’s okay to let good things last.
 That we don’t need to draft an emergency exit plan every time something feels peaceful.

It’s practicing staying in the moment instead of bracing for impact.
 Letting your body actually feel the softness instead of rushing past it.
 Letting joy linger. Letting pride linger. Letting enough linger.

This is what generational healing looks like: learning to let ourselves have the peace our parents never got to hold.
 Learning that joy isn’t a trap—it’s medicine.
This season, I’m choosing to stay. 
Stay with the good. Stay with the present. Stay with the parts of me that are learning it’s safe to receive.

                                             

12/01/2025

My “left-out” part stays dramatic. One missed invite and she’s like: “I guess we’re unlovable. Time to reinvent our entire personality.”
Meanwhile my adult Self is like: “Sweetie… it’s a brunch, not a betrayal.”

And because I grew up as a child of immigrants, that part learned early that feeling left out = work harder so no one forgets you.
 So my protector parts start auditioning: – Performer Mode: “Let’s achieve something today so we feel worthy again.” – People-Pleaser Mode: “Let me love everyone extra hard so I never feel this feeling again.” – Firefighter Mode: “Dopamine hit? I gotchu. Coffee? Scrolling? Cleaning the whole damn house? All three?”

Meanwhile the little part inside me is just sitting there, swinging her feet, whispering: “I just wanted to feel included.”

And honestly… she deserves to be heard.
This is the wild part about healing: Sometimes the thing that hurts the most isn’t the situation — it’s all the parts inside of us sprinting around trying to fix it instead of letting us feel it.

In IFS, we call this a burdened exile + very overworked protectors. In Filipino culture, we call this Tuesday.

But here’s the truth I’m learning: When that left-out part finally gets space to speak — without me overachieving, people-pleasing, or chasing a dopamine buffet — she softens.

She becomes less dramatic, less panicked, less “rewrite our whole identity because Karen didn’t invite us to mimosas.”

She just says, “That hurt… can you sit with me?” And that… I can do.

Healing isn’t becoming someone who never feels left out.
 It’s becoming someone who doesn’t abandon themselves when they do.

My posts are for educational and marketing purposes and not a replacement for therapy.

11/27/2025

This Thanksgiving, I’m feeling deeply grateful for the version of me who finally stopped being scared to be seen.
 As a child of immigrants and a person of color, invisibility was a double-edged sword — it kept me safe, but it also kept my gifts quiet. This year, I stopped whispering and showed up as my full, authentic self in every area of my life. Even knowing some people might misunderstand me, criticize me, or quietly exit stage left.

And honestly? Worth it.
 Because I learned I don’t have to perform for love. I don’t have to hustle for my worth. And when I stopped doing Olympic-level emotional labor to be liked, I had so much energy left to pour into my community, my family, and the work that matters.

I’m thankful for the opportunities this year gave me — to meet new people, trust more deeply, be vulnerable, and expand into the woman I’ve always been.

Growth is wild… and apparently also contagious because my nervous system is finally like, “Oh… we’re safe? Bet.”

Here’s to gratitude, healing, generational upgrades… and to showing up as ourselves, even when it’s scary. 🧡✨

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

11/26/2025

🌀 Community care is cute—until everyone’s spiraling at the same time. 😬
Sometimes it’s not that your friends don’t care. It’s that they’re carrying just as much as you are.
 You vent, they vent, and suddenly you’re trauma-bonding instead of healing.
Community care is sacred — but it only works when we have the capacity to hold each other without losing ourselves in the process.

Therapy doesn’t replace community — it strengthens it.
 Because when you learn to self-regulate, set boundaries, and see your own patterns… you stop adding to the collective chaos and start modeling calm.
Healing in community starts with healing within. 🌿

11/19/2025

There’s no one way therapy looks in my office. Some days, it’s sitting on furniture and deep conversation.
 Other days, we’re following your eyes, talking to your parts, or meeting your inner child who still wants to be seen.

As a child of immigrants and a therapist who works with complex trauma, I know healing doesn’t happen in just one position or one approach. 
Sometimes we sit. Sometimes we breathe. Sometimes we cry and laugh in the same minute. And sometimes… we just let your nervous system lead the way.

Because therapy isn’t about performing “being okay” — it’s about creating safety in all the positions your body has learned to survive in.

🪞✨ Healing takes many forms. Sometimes it looks like sitting still. Sometimes it looks like remembering who you were before you learned to be so strong.

11/14/2025

There’s a big difference between letting go and locking away.

Letting go = processing, grieving, and allowing yourself to move forward. Locking away = pretending you’re over it while your body’s like “Surprise, we’re crying in traffic again.” 🚗💧

When we tell ourselves to “just move on,” but skip the part where we actually feel our emotions, we don’t release them — we store them.
 And those feelings eventually show up as irritability, overthinking, or exhaustion.

So next time you tell yourself to “let it go,” try: 🧘🏽‍♀️ Naming what you feel. 🫶🏽 Allowing yourself to grieve what didn’t go as planned. 🌿 Releasing the need to control the outcome.

Because real letting go isn’t cold detachment — it’s warm acceptance.

Discovering Joy, LLC

12/25/2025

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Monday	10am - 6pm
Tuesday	10am - 7pm
Wednesday	10am - 7pm
Thursday	10am - 7pm