Mindfully Nursed

08/21/2026

A little note that I’ll be away from the office next week, August 24–28.

Online booking will still be open, and I may check messages here and there, but replies will likely be a little slower than usual.

I’ll be back to regular appointments the following week.

Thank you for your understanding, and I’ll see you again in September. 🤍

Warmly,
Tara

08/20/2026

Self-awareness can be incredibly useful.

It can help you notice patterns sooner, understand where a reaction is coming from, and make choices with more intention.

But it does not make you immune to being human.

You can understand yourself well and still repeat an old pattern. You can care deeply about a relationship and still avoid a hard conversation. You can know exactly why you feel overwhelmed and still feel overwhelmed. You can need reassurance and still be capable.

Insight and change are related, but they are not the same thing.

Sometimes knowing more helps. Sometimes what matters next is practice, support, acceptance, boundaries, rest, or trying something different in real life.

Therapy can be a place to explore that gap between “I understand this” and “I’m still struggling with it.”

If that’s a place you’ve been finding yourself lately, I offer a free 15-minute discovery call to see if working together might be a good fit.

In-person in Cornwall, with virtual appointments across Ontario, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland.

Warmly,
Tara

08/17/2026

There are a few things I’m less interested in as a therapist.

Whether you’re doing therapy “right.”
Whether every feeling can be neatly explained.
Whether we can find a silver lining.
Whether every hard thing needs to become a lesson.

I’m much more interested in what matters to you, what actually helps, and what fits your real life.

That might mean making room for something difficult instead of trying to get rid of it. It might mean looking more closely at a pattern. It might mean practical problem-solving. It might mean noticing that the way you’ve been coping made sense for a long time, and also that it may not be working quite as well anymore.

Therapy, for me, is less about performing insight and more about making space for honesty, curiosity, and choices that feel more aligned with the life you want to be living.

If that sounds like the kind of therapy you’ve been looking for, I offer a free 15-minute discovery call to see if we might be a good fit.

In-person in Cornwall, with virtual appointments across Ontario, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland.

Warmly,
Tara

08/14/2026

You don’t have to be good at therapy to benefit from it.

You don’t need to arrive with the right words or a tidy story. You can understand the problem and still feel stuck. You can want depth and practical help at the same time.

My job is to help us slow things down enough to understand what is actually happening, what matters to you, and what might be useful in your real life.

Sometimes that means deeper reflection. Sometimes it means practical problem-solving. Usually it’s a bit of both.

I bring nearly two decades of nursing experience into the room with me, along with a therapy approach that pays attention to your body, your context, your relationships, and the life you have to go back to after the session ends.

You can disagree with me. You can be unsure. You can laugh. You can know a lot about yourself and still need support.

Therapy does not need to feel clinical, performative, or disconnected from real life.

If you’ve been thinking about starting therapy and wondering what it might actually feel like to sit across from me, I offer a free 15-minute discovery call.

In-person therapy in Cornwall + virtual appointments across Ontario, Nova Scotia and Newfoundland.

08/12/2026

I’ve been sitting with this one for a while.

It started with me trying to understand why I was feeling so much resistance to something that was supposed to be good for me. Somewhere along the way, it became a much bigger reflection on endurance, trying harder, making space, and learning to trust ourselves when something no longer fits.

This one is more personal than most things I share here. It also feels important.

At nearly 40, I’m becoming less convinced that every problem in life can be solved by trying harder. I’m beginning to wonder if some problems are solved by paying closer attention.

The Problem With Being Good at Enduring Things

I’ve spent a good portion of my life believing that if something wasn’t working, the answer was probably to try harder. I’m becoming less convinced.

07/30/2026

Grief changes shape.

A few days ago would have been my Grandma’s birthday.

I’ve spent enough years grieving her now to know that grief does not follow a straight line. It changes shape.

In the beginning, it felt sharp. It stole my breath and left me wondering how the world could keep moving without someone I loved so deeply in it. Over time, some of those raw edges softened. The grief never disappeared, but it became more familiar. Less like something I needed to overcome and more like something I could make room for while continuing to live.

There can be a quiet pressure to be “further along” by now. To wonder why certain dates still catch us off guard, or why a memory can still bring us to tears years later.

But healing does not always mean leaving grief behind. Sometimes healing looks like learning to carry love differently.

I carry my Grandma in the freesias I bring home whenever I have the chance. They were her favourite flowers, and somewhere along the way, they became mine too. They’re the flowers my children and partner buy for me now, and the ones tattooed on my arm.

I carry her in the stories I tell my children about their great-grandmother. In the fancy teacups we pull from the cabinet for birthdays and holidays, or simply because an ordinary cup of tea deserves a beautiful cup. I know she would much rather they be used and enjoyed than left collecting dust.

A portion of her spoon collection hangs on our kitchen wall. Years ago, we each chose our favourites. Mine is still the same spoon that captivated me as a little girl.

She taught me things I don’t think she ever realized she was teaching. Gentleness. Humour. Unwavering faith. The enjoyment of little moments. Fresh flowers. A good piece of chocolate. A Werther’s Original during a car ride. A funny inside joke. She showed me that a beautiful life isn’t made up of extraordinary moments. It’s found in the ordinary ones we choose to notice.

I used to think grief was something we moved through and eventually left behind. Now I think it may be both. We move through the sharpest parts while carrying the love we have for them with us.

Looking around my own life, I still find her everywhere.

In the flowers I bring home. In the stories I tell my children. In the teacups we still use. In the reminder to slow down, to laugh, and to notice what is beautiful, ordinary, and right in front of me.

I miss her deeply. I always will. And I’m grateful that loving her continues to shape the way I live. ❤️

07/29/2026

I’m a few days late posting this because I’ve been busy doing exactly what I encourage my clients to do… making room for the people and moments that matter.

This week has been about recharging, connecting with my family, and soaking up these last days of summer before the busyness of fall returns.

I’ll be back in the office on August 4, rested, grateful, and looking forward to seeing everyone again.

07/18/2026

A couple of weeks ago, I had one of those moments where life quietly taps you on the shoulder.

The kind where you look around and realize you’re standing in something an earlier version of yourself couldn’t have imagined.

Danielle and I have spent the last few years building our practices from a few hours apart. Along the way, we’ve shared ideas, celebrated milestones, worked through the inevitable challenges of business ownership, and reminded each other that we’re not the only ones trying to hold all of the pieces together.

Private practice can be a beautiful way to work, but it can also be surprisingly isolating. There are no coworkers down the hall. No shared lunch breaks. No one who fully understands the privilege and responsibility of holding space for others while simultaneously trying to build something of your own.

And then, every once in a while, this work gives you a gift.

A couple of weeks ago, our families finally met.

We wandered bookstores, drank coffee, and talked about work, motherhood, and life. We exchanged little bird figurines. My kids think it’s funny how drawn I am to birds, and as it turns out, Danielle loves them too.

There’s something fitting about that. Birds build nests. They return home. And they rarely travel entirely alone.

My little bird now sits in my office as a reminder that even when private practice feels quiet, I am not doing this alone.

Years ago, Mindfully Nursed was just an idea. Now it has roots. It has become a place of connection, healing, and community. And unexpectedly, it has brought people like Danielle into my life.

Building Mindfully Nursed has brought many gifts, but getting to walk alongside someone like Danielle from Maple Mindset has been one of my favourites.

Here’s to growing roots a few hours apart, and to the people who remind us that even in work that can feel solitary, we were never meant to do it alone.

07/17/2026

I’ve recently talked about this ❤️

So much of the suffering I witness in my work comes not from life's inevitable pain, but from the way people turn against themselves in the middle of it. The self-criticism, the shame, the belief that feeling this way means something is fundamentally wrong with them. What I want to offer — what this work is really about — is a different relationship with yourself. One that starts with this: you are fully human, as you are, right now. Read more in my latest Psychology Today article.

05/23/2026

A lot of people who start therapy with me are the ones everyone else depends on.

They’re functioning. Working. Parenting. Showing up for everyone around them. And at the same time, they’re overwhelmed, exhausted, disconnected from themselves, carrying stress in their bodies, or quietly wondering how long they can keep operating like this.

Those are the people I kept thinking about while building the new website.

I wanted someone landing there to quickly get a sense of who’s on the other side of the screen and the kind of care they can expect. Thoughtful. Grounded. Human.

One of the lines on the website says:
“You’ve done the hardest part.”

Because honestly, reaching out can feel incredibly vulnerable.

I’m really proud of how this turned out and grateful for everyone who’s been following along with this launch. 🤍