Olga Wood Counseling

11/13/2025

I love the beauty of language! I leaned recently that in the Irish “I miss you” is “Tá cumha orm duit” —
“There is longing on me for you.”

Grief, in this language, isn’t something people do but rather something that rests upon them. Like a soft weight on the heart, or heavy fog that settles without asking permission.

The word “cumha” means carrying memory, sorrow, love, and the ache of something that was once close, now absent yet still deeply present.
It is a reminder that grieving process doesn’t make the loss disappear; it simply changes its shape.

Psychology tells us that love continues after loss. Nnot in the same way, but in the quiet threads of remembering. It sounds like the Irish, in its poetic way, understood that long before science named it.

So when longing finds you, don’t rush to push it away (because it hurts). Let it rest where it lands. It is love, speaking a different language —one that says, your loved ones mattered and still do.

11/09/2025

Vienna, 1913-1914.

My son brought to my attention this image. It has been haunting me since.

There they were. Within a few miles of one another: Hi**er, Stalin, Trotsky, Freud, and Emperor Franz Joseph.

In that small corner of the world, within a five mile radius, light and shadow quietly crossed paths.The ones who would try to control and destroy the world walked the same streets as the one who was trying to understand the human soul.

It made me think how similar we are as individual human beings. The same contrasts — the impulse to dominate or to heal, to harden or to understand, to destroy or to create — live within us. .
History mirrors the psyche: we act out what we do not face within.

This image isn't just a map a city on the brink of war. Itit was a reflection of the human condition itself:
the tension between darkness and light, waiting to see which one we would serve.

Today, may we pause and look inward.
Which voice are we feeding — the one that seeks to control, or the one that longs to understand?
What war might we prevent, within or around us, if we chose to tend to the quieter, more compassionate parts of our own humanity?

11/03/2025

There’s a quiet brilliance in the movie Nanny McPhee! It could be argued that it mirrors the journey of healing.

Nanny enters a home in chaos. At first glance, the children are wild, defiant, unruly, and angry. But beneath all of the defiance lives grief.
Heartbreak.
Loss.
Uncertainty.
The void of unmet needs.

No one has stayed long enough to understand their pain.

And Nanny McPhee doesn’t punish their pain.
She meets it. With gentle structure. She shows them that boundaries are safe and that love doesn’t disappear when challenged.

Over time, the chaos softens.

The children learn to regulate what once overwhelmed them.
They learn to listen, to love, to trust.
And when they no longer need her — when the lesson has rooted —
she quietly disappears.

So much of therapy is like that.
Our protectors (the anger, the withdrawal, the control) guard the hurting parts of us. They appear to be strict, unkind, and even threatening or dangerous! They are only waiting for us to feel safe enough to let them rest.

Healing isn’t about erasing what was once needed. It is about recognizing the purpose underneath the defense,
and allowing vulnerability to take its place.

Because when the lesson is learned (just like in the movie) the protector part of ourselves no longer needs to stay.

I invite you to ask yourself today: which part of you has been your Nanny McPhee — harsh on the surface, but guarding something tender ?

11/01/2025

I grew up in a land far away, where tradition was woven through with close relationships, and families were united or divided by shared pain as much as simple joys.

In my homeland, Transylvania, November 1st was a day to honor those who once walked beside us, and whose love still lingers in quiet ways.

We dressed warmly and carried lit candles—not to call them back, but to remind our hearts that they were once here, and that love never truly disappears.

The flicker of a candle feels like memory itself—fragile, yet alive. It dances softly against the breeze, whispering the names we hold within us.

In those moments, I recognized that grief doesn’t end. It changes from tears to smiles, from heartache to gentle peace, as we learn to breathe again.

And as the wax melted slowly into the night, we felt our loved ones’ nearness—not in physical form, but in the warm thoughts and feelings we still carried, reminding us that love was still there.

Tonight, perhaps you can join me and light a candle for someone who still lives in our heart.
Let its gentle light remind you that love conquers loss, and that every flicker is a memory that keeps us connected.

10/30/2025

Healing isn’t a straight line.
Some days we bloom; we are hopeful, open, and see life as vibrantly colorful.

Other days we’re quiet, still, tending to what no one can see, while the world around us seems a bit more void of color.

On the blooming days, we feel alive and connected. On the rooting days, we’re doing the deep work—strengthening, grounding, preparing for what’s next.

Both matter.

Both are sacred parts of healing, a journey of becoming whole.

Even when it feels like nothing is happening, parts of us are growing to deeper understanding.

We become steadier.
We learn to stand tall through every season.

So be gentle with yourself.
The blooms will come again—
and when they do, they’ll be stronger because of the roots you grew in the quiet.

— Wounds to Wonder 🌿

10/29/2025

I stood in an operating room for 21 years, surrounded by monitors, bright lights, and the steady rhythm of heartbeats. I loved every moment of helping repair broken hearts. It was holy work.

Now, I find myself in a different kind of healing space. No sterile field, scalpels, instruments, scissors or sutures. The hearts I work with today need gentleness, safety, and time.

Emotional wounds can’t be stitched up, but they can be held, understood, and slowly restored. That is a sacred space.

This message is for those who carry invisible pain as a hopeful reminder that healing is possible.

Please know that with gentle support and a safe space, the heart knows how to find its rhythm again.

10/28/2025

What does therapy really look like?

Therapy often looks like two people sitting in a quiet room, softly untangling life’s twisted knots and turns.

It looks like learning to breathe again after holding your breath for so long, it now hurts to breath.

It’s a gentle return to yourself.

Sometimes there are tears.
Sometimes there’s laughter.
Sometimes there’s silence. The kind that speaks volumes.

Therapy is a sacred space where your story can unfold at your own pace, where your heart is met with care, and your pain is met with understanding.

If you’ve ever wondered what therapy might look like for you, please know : it can be a place of healing, safety, and compassion.

A place where wounds slowly turn to wonder. 🤍

10/27/2025

When Exhaustion Runs Deep

Exhaustion isn’t just about needing more sleep.
It’s what happens when your mind, body, and heart have carried too much for too long — without enough space to rest or restore.

You might notice:
• You’re more irritable than usual, and it’s hard to self-regulate. The smallest things feel overwhelming, and tears come easily.
• Social interactions feel draining. It’s hard to be present, to connect, or to enjoy time with loved ones. You might crave solitude, not because you don’t care, but because you have nothing left to give.
• Your body feels on edge — tense, jumpy, easily startled, almost as if it’s anticipating something to go wrong.
• It’s difficult to remember the last time you felt at ease, laughed, or truly enjoyed yourself.
• You may feel numb or detached, moving through life on autopilot.
• Sleep and appetite shift between extremes — too much or not enough.

These are not signs of failure or weakness.
They’re signals from your nervous system saying, “I’m overwhelmed. Please slow down.”

06/12/2024

Trauma is a deeply personal experience, and no one should have to face it alone. It's crucial to understand that each person's response to trauma is unique. Even if two people go through the same event, their perspectives will be different.

The aftermath of trauma can lead to various challenges, including anxiety, depression, hypersensitivity, and physical symptoms. It's important to acknowledge and respect each person's individual experience with trauma in order to provide practical support. Recovery from trauma is a complex process that often requires personalized professional care, including therapy, support groups, and, in some cases, medication.

Creating a compassionate and empathetic environment is crucial for those affected by trauma. By increasing awareness and understanding of trauma, we can build a supportive and inclusive community where individuals feel safe and validated. This will encourage those who have experienced trauma to seek help and believe in the possibility of healing.

04/17/2024

Susan Tankersley and Terance Dawkins discuss recognizing patterns of unhealthy behaviors we can identify within ourselves and our families. By increasing self-awareness, we can break the chains and free ourselves from transmitting and future generations from receiving faulty/unhealthy messages.

We are so happy you are here! Please continue to listen to this series on inter-generational trauma. We hope you find tools to equip yourself with and are en...

04/15/2024