Free Minds Counseling

Free Minds Counseling Life is a game! Learn the rules and the skills to thrive. Game and grow!

Individual, family and couples therapy with an emphasis on education, skills training and lifestyle changes to support long term health. I utilize an eclectic blend of talk therapy interventions, nutritional counseling, lifestyle coaching and neurofeedback to help you bring your life into balance.

11/01/2025

You know that awkward feeling when you start something new and immediately realize you have no idea what you’re doing? Congratulations! You’ve just entered Stage 1: Unconscious Incompetence, a.k.a. “I don’t even know what I don’t know.” This is the “button-mashing” phase of learning - you’re running around Azeroth with a rusty sword, wondering why you keep aggroing things way above your level.

Then comes Stage 2: Conscious Incompetence. You’ve learned enough to realize you suck, but hey - awareness has entered the chat! You’re dying less often, but every victory feels like you barely scraped by. This is where most players rage-quit, because nothing kills motivation like realizing you’ve been spec’d all wrong.

Push through that, though, and you hit Stage 3: Conscious Competence. You know what you’re doing but it still takes focus. You can clear the dungeon, but only if you keep your rotation tight and your attention bar full. It’s effortful, but you’re starting to see your progress, and that’s where the real XP starts stacking.

Finally, after enough reps, you reach Stage 4: Unconscious Competence. You’ve got the muscle memory down. You could tank this raid in your sleep. This is the level where skill becomes instinct - you’ve internalized the mechanics so deeply that your brain just does the thing.

But here’s the secret: every time you take on a new challenge, you start the cycle over again. It’s not failure - it’s progress. Each round through the stages is a prestige-level reset, carrying your wisdom (and a few emotional battle scars) forward into the next game.

So next time you feel clumsy, lost, or like you’re flailing through life’s tutorial zone, remember: you’re not bad at the game. You’re just leveling up.

11/01/2025

You know that moment when your brain hits full red-alert mode - heart racing, thoughts scattering like critters after an AoE spell - and suddenly even existing feels like a raid mechanic you weren’t briefed on? That’s when it’s time to pull out one of my favorite emergency cooldowns: the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique.

Here’s how it works. You’re basically rerouting your attention points from the anxious mind zone back into your physical body. Think of it as hitting “/focus” on the present moment.

🖐 5 things you can see - Look around like you’re looting your surroundings for treasure. Name five things in your environment - the way the light hits your keyboard, a plant doing its best to photosynthesize, the empty mug that’s definitely not judging you.

🤚 4 things you can touch - Texture check! Notice the feel of your chair, your clothing, your desk, your pet’s fur (bonus XP if the pet purrs). This helps you respawn into your body instead of staying lost in your thoughts.

👂 3 things you can hear - Maybe it’s birds outside, the hum of your computer, or that faint boss music your anxiety keeps playing in the background. Acknowledge each sound without judging it, just log it in your mental journal.

👃 2 things you can smell - Deep breath. Catch a whiff of coffee, soap, a candle, or maybe your environment’s... unique scent profile. Doesn’t matter, it’s data, and data is grounding.

👅 1 thing you can taste - Take a sip of water, chew a mint, or just notice the aftertaste of your last snack. (If it’s been coffee and chaos all day, that’s okay. Awareness achieved.)

By the time you’ve finished, your nervous system has usually stopped trying to cast “Panic Storm” and your brain’s threat level drops back to yellow. It’s simple, it’s fast, and it works almost anywhere - even mid-dungeon or mid-meeting.

You don’t have to slay your anxiety dragon every time it shows up. Sometimes, you just need to remind yourself: you’re safe, you’re here, and your senses are your most reliable party members.

11/01/2025

Let’s talk about a sneaky little confusion that trips up even seasoned players in the game of life: persistence is not the same thing as entanglement.

Persistence is when you keep working toward a goal - you fall, you get back up, you adapt your strategy, you keep rolling the dice until RNG finally cuts you some slack. It’s noble, resilient, and productive. You’re choosing your quest, managing your resources, and keeping your focus on progress.

Entanglement, on the other hand, is what happens when your emotional aggro gets stuck on something that’s no longer serving you. You’re no longer playing to win - you’re just stuck in combat because you can’t let go of the target. Maybe it’s a relationship, a project, or a dream version of how things “should” have gone. You’ve stopped gaining XP, but you keep swinging because the sunk-cost fallacy whispered, “Just one more hit.”

So how do you tell the difference?

Persistence feels empowering. Even when it’s hard, there’s movement, growth, and purpose.

Entanglement feels draining. It’s the emotional equivalent of lag - lots of effort, no progress.

Persistence adapts. If one path is blocked, you look for another route.

Entanglement insists. It demands the world conform to your expectations instead of evolving with reality.

Persistence respects boundaries. Entanglement tramples them in the name of “loyalty.”

The fix? Hit pause and check your status effects. Are you choosing this fight because it’s still meaningful, or because you’re afraid of what it means to stop?

Persistence moves you forward; entanglement keeps you trapped in the same loop. One builds your skill tree. The other just eats your mana.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do isn’t to keep fighting - it’s to sheathe your sword, take the lesson, and walk away from the respawn zone.

11/01/2025

Assumptions: the invisible traps that wipe more life raids than any boss mechanic ever could.

We all make them - quick little “fill in the blank” guesses our brains toss in when we don’t have all the data. It’s efficient, sure… until it isn’t. Because assumptions are basically emotional fanfiction: we take a few facts, add a dramatic subplot, and suddenly we’re mad at someone for something they never actually did.

That’s how friendships, teams, and relationships end up taking critical damage. One person assumes silence means disapproval, the other assumes everything’s fine and boom, the group chat turns into a cold war.

Here’s the thing: communication is the ultimate dispel.
It’s messy, awkward, sometimes uncomfortable but it’s also the only way to clear those hidden debuffs before they stack. You can’t fix what you won’t talk about. And half the time, the “big problem” evaporates the second you actually compare notes and realize everyone’s been fighting the wrong target.

So next time your brain starts writing a whole narrative about what someone must be thinking or feeling, hit pause. Check your perception. Ask questions. Clarify. Use your words - they’re your most underrated gear slot.

Because assumptions build walls. Communication builds bridges. And honestly? Life’s just a lot smoother when your raid team’s on voice chat instead of everyone guessing what the tank’s about to do.

11/01/2025

Getting a late diagnosis - whether it’s ADHD, autism, or another neurodivergent trait - can feel like finally finding the map after wandering in a dungeon for decades. Relief hits you: “Oh! So that’s why the traps kept one-shotting me.” But almost immediately, grief follows - a bitter potion that hits every corner of your emotional inventory.

You grieve the lost time - the quests you skipped, the side missions you never realized existed. You grieve the unnecessary hardship, the self-imposed debuffs you carried because no one told you how your character stats really worked. You grieve missed opportunities, strained relationships, and years of being misunderstood. And, if we’re honest, you grieve the part of yourself that blamed you for struggles that weren’t your fault.

It’s normal to mourn all of that - grief is just your system finally processing what’s been going on behind the scenes. But here’s the twist: awareness, even late, is OP. It unlocks new strategies. It gives you tools you didn’t have before. It lets you stop fighting yourself and start building your skill tree with intentionality.

So yes, cry for the lost XP and wasted mana. Rage at the unfair mechanics. But then, and this is the crucial part, start leveling up from where you are. Because the game isn’t over, your respawn point just got a major upgrade. And that, honestly, is a rare and powerful buff.

11/01/2025

Ever notice how life is basically a giant MMO, and yet nobody told you your inventory space is limited? You can only carry so many items, skills, and emotional baggage before your bag gets full, your movement slows, and suddenly you can’t pick up that shiny new opportunity without dropping something else.

Your mental inventory is even trickier. Thoughts, memories, obligations, worries - they pile up faster than loot after a dungeon run. Before you know it, your brain is that one character hoarding every useless crafting material because “you might need it someday.” Spoiler: you probably won’t.

That’s why regular inventory management is key. Physically: donate the clutter, toss the junk, organize your loot. Mentally: reflect, let go of grudges, prioritize what actually gives you buffs, and make space for the stuff that matters. Even your emotional pet needs room in your party.

Think of it this way: a well-managed inventory keeps your stats optimized, your movement speed high, and your stress debuffs low. Plus, it means when a new epic quest drops, you’ve actually got the space to grab it without panic-selling your emotional sword collection.

Your inventory isn’t infinite. Respect the space, do the resets, and watch your life run smoother than a perfectly executed raid.

11/01/2025

Dysgraphia is a neurological disorder that affects a person’s ability to write coherently and efficiently. The term comes from the Greek words “dys” (meaning difficulty) and “graphia” (meaning writing). Individuals with dysgraphia may struggle with handwriting, spelling, and organizing written thoughts. This condition can affect both children and adults and often leads to challenges in academic, social, and professional settings. Over time, these difficulties may also impact self-esteem and mental health, making early recognition and supportive interventions crucial. There are five different types of dysgraphia.

Read more here: https://mind.help/topic/dysgraphia/types/

11/01/2025

Strength looks different each day. Sometimes it's doing the most and other times it's knowing that you need help and asking for it. Showing up as best you can is what counts.

11/01/2025

Many people would say the connection between happiness and gratefulness is very simple: when you are happy, you are grateful. But think again. Is it really the happy people that are grateful? Quite a number of people have everything that it would take to be happy, and they are not happy. So, how doe...

10/29/2025

Here’s a little secret most of us forget when we’re mid-battle: you can’t make good decisions when your inner world is on fire.

A peaceful heart isn’t just a spiritual luxury - it’s a tactical advantage. When your emotions are raging like a raid gone wrong, your brain shifts into survival mode. Vision narrows, logic glitches, and suddenly you’re trying to make life choices with the same clarity you’d have dodging a boss mechanic while your UI’s on fire.

But when your heart is calm? The fog lifts. Options become clear. You can actually see the map instead of reacting to every flashing red warning. A peaceful mind doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. It means you’ve created enough internal stability to make deliberate, effective moves instead of panic rolls.

Peace is the high ground from which wisdom operates. From there, you don’t chase every noise, you don’t fall for every emotional crit hit, and you don’t confuse motion for progress.

So before making big decisions, pause. Breathe. Center. Get your heart back to neutral. Because the right choice rarely reveals itself in chaos but it’s almost always visible from peace.

10/29/2025

Let’s clear up a common misconception in the emotional skill tree: compassion does not require self-torture.

Somewhere along the line, a lot of us picked up the idea that to truly care, we have to feel other people’s pain so deeply that we start wearing it like raid gear. But here’s the problem, when you’re overloaded with everyone else’s debuffs, you can’t heal effectively. You just collapse under the weight of the whole dungeon.

Real compassion isn’t about drowning in someone else’s suffering - it’s about staying calm enough to help. You can care deeply, offer empathy, show up with love and wisdom, without letting that pain set up permanent residence in your nervous system.

In fact, the most powerful healers, both in-game and in life, know how to ground themselves first. They don’t absorb damage to prove they care; they build resilience so they can keep showing up.

So next time your heart wants to help, remember: feeling with someone isn’t the same as suffering with them. Keep your compassion strong and your boundaries intact. You can’t light the way for others if you’ve snuffed out your own flame.

10/29/2025

Alright, adventurers, gather ‘round the campfire of self-awareness for a quick raid briefing on Emotional Boss Mechanics.

Here’s the thing: you can’t skip the fight. You can’t stealth past your feelings, you can’t crowd-control grief indefinitely, and suppressing sadness doesn’t “just despawn it.” Nope. Those suckers respawn endlessly until you actually engage.

Feelings are like dungeon mobs that drop valuable loot - wisdom, self-understanding, clarity - but only after you tank the hit and process the damage. The “Ignore and Move On” strategy? That’s how you end up in the endless respawn loop of intrusive thoughts, random emotional aggro, and the dreaded “why am I suddenly crying over an ad for paper towels?” debuff.

Processing pain means feeling it fully - naming it, acknowledging it, sitting with it. Letting it move through you instead of building a fortress around it. Because if you don’t feel it, you can’t release it. It just keeps running in the background like a buggy NPC script, glitching your peace and draining your mana.

But here’s the power-up moment: you choose when to let it go. That’s the “disenchant” phase. Once the emotional loot is collected - insight gained, lesson learned - you don’t need to keep farming that dungeon. Hit the emotional “/release” command. Walk out of there lighter, levelled up, and ready to explore new zones.

So yes, feel your feels. Cry, rage, ugly sob into a pillow if needed. Then, when the experience has done its work, consciously let it go. Don’t let old pain keep re-queuing you for a dungeon you’ve already cleared.

Your emotional XP bar only fills when you process and release. Feel it, then yeet it, my friends.

Address

104 East. Summit Avenue
Wales, WI
53183

Opening Hours

Monday 9am - 5pm
Tuesday 9am - 4pm
Wednesday 9am - 6pm
Friday 9am - 6pm

Telephone

+14149093449

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