In the often-genteel world of couples therapy, where gentle nods and validating murmurs reign supreme, Terry Real has never been one for pleasantries.

He’s the therapist who tells men—not just in the privacy of his office but in bestselling books and national talks—to wake up, get real, and take responsibility for the mess they’ve made in their relationships.

And not in a soft, let’s-process-your-feelings kind of way, but in a firm, unapologetic, and transformational manner that has redefined modern couples therapy.

Family therapy has long been rooted in identifying and addressing dysfunction, but what if the key to healing wasn't in fixing problems, but in amplifying strengths?

That’s the idea behind Resource-Focused Therapy (RFT), an innovative approach developed by Bradford Keeney and Wendel Ray that shifts the therapeutic lens from deficits to the inherent resources and capabilities within families.

Instead of dwelling on what’s broken, RFT highlights what’s already working and builds upon it, transforming therapy into a dynamic and creative experience.

There was a time when if you told someone your father wasn’t speaking to you, they’d assume it was because you crashed his Buick or stole money from his wallet.

Now, they assume you set a boundary.

Welcome to therapy culture: the religion of our modern age.

While our ancestors fretted over sin and salvation, we wring our hands over trauma and self-actualization.

We used to confide in a Imam, rabbi, or priest. Now we unload on a therapist (or, more commonly, the internet).

Instead of redemption, we seek closure.

Instead of community, we have self-care.

Instead of a Higher Power, we have, (most appropriately) our inner child.

And, in many ways, this shift has done wonders—destigmatizing mental health struggles, improving emotional intelligence.

But, like all religions, therapy culture has its excesses, hypocrisies, and unintended consequences. So let’s talk about it.

It’s ok. I’m a marriage and family therapist.

Let’s be honest: modern couples therapy often feels like a buffet of therapeutic techniques where everything is presented as equally valid.

“You want a monogamous marriage? Great! You want an open relationship? Also great! You communicate through a series of passive-aggressive Post-it notes? Well, let’s explore that!”

But what if you want something deeper?

What if you crave relationship therapy with a chewy moral center—something that acknowledges not just your emotional needs but also the ethical and relational stakes of being in a committed partnership?

If that’s you, congratulations. You’re looking for a therapist who believes in something. And trust me, they’re out there.

If you’ve ever wandered into the world of modern relationship advice, you’ve likely encountered Esther Perel.

A brilliant Belgian psychotherapist, she’s the high priestess of erotic distance, the champion of mystery in long-term relationships, and the nuanced defender of the occasional infidelity.

Her TED Talks dazzle, her books sell, and her clients—well, they walk away feeling seen.

But not everyone is enchanted.

Among those raising a skeptical eyebrow are spiritually inclined couples. They may be Christian, Jew, or Muslim.

They’ve found themselves shaking their heads at the suggestion that passion thrives on the unknown or that a touch of betrayal might reinvigorate a marriage.

For spiritually-inclined couples, Perel’s philosophy is, at best, incomplete and, at worst, a siren song leading marriages onto the rocks.

Evolutionary psychology (EP) is the field that insists every weird human behavior—from falling in love to overspending on throw pillows—can be explained by the survival strategies of our prehistoric ancestors.

It tells us that men hoard wealth because cavewomen loved mammoth hunters, and women prefer taller men because Neanderthal Chad had better rock-throwing skills.

It’s a compelling theory, and in fairness, EP does have its moments.

But too often, it veers into “just-so stories,” sloppy science, and some suspiciously convenient explanations for why the world is the way it is (and why we shouldn’t bother changing it).

More troublingly, it tends to treat humans less like self-aware souls and more like confused primates still fumbling through modern life with prehistoric instincts.

So, let’s take a closer look at the cracks in EP’s foundation—because humans deserve a better story.

Emotional affairs don’t happen in a single moment; they evolve in quiet increments, slipping under the radar of what we traditionally define as infidelity.

Unlike physical affairs, which are easier to label as betrayal, emotional infidelity exists in a murky in-between—where innocent friendships subtly transform into something more intimate, more secretive, and more consuming.

In an era where digital connections thrive, emotional affairs have become an area of heightened clinical concern.

What starts as a friendly conversation with a coworker or a reconnection with an old acquaintance on social media can spiral into a deep, emotionally charged attachment that threatens the stability of an existing relationship.

The emotional energy that once fueled intimacy with a partner is now invested elsewhere. But when does a friendship cross the line into infidelity?

The answer often depends on one key factor—how your partner feels about it.

Mental health misdiagnosis can lead to ineffective treatment and prolonged suffering, and few conditions are confused as often as Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and Bipolar Disorder (BD).

Both conditions involve emotional instability, impulsivity, and challenges in relationships, but they have fundamentally different causes, progressions, and treatments.

This confusion has real consequences—studies show that up to 40% of folks diagnosed with Bipolar II actually have BPD (Zimmerman et al., 2010).

This article will clearly differentiate these two disorders using scientific research, clinical findings, and expert recommendations, ensuring you walk away with a solid understanding of their differences, similarities, and best treatment strategies.

Neurodivergence has become a cultural conversation, amplified by the echo chambers of social media. TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter have become fertile ground for discussions about autism, ADHD, dyslexia, and other neurodivergent conditions, providing a voice to many who have long felt unheard.

But with this surge in visibility comes an insidious undercurrent: misinformation and oversimplification.

The digital age has turned self-diagnosis into a shared experience.

Algorithms reward content that is digestible, relatable, and

emotionally engaging—often at the expense of accuracy.

This has led to a troubling paradox: while awareness is increasing, the nuanced complexities of neurodivergence are being reduced to memes, hashtags, and bite-sized explanations that risk distorting the reality of these experiences.

Parenting is a powerful form of storytelling.

It is the first narrative we absorb, teaching us who we are, what we deserve, and how to navigate the world. But what happens when that story is written in the language of fear, humiliation, and control?

A growing body of research suggests that childhood experiences of harsh parenting—including psychological aggression and severe physical discipline—may contribute to the emergence of dark personality traits in adulthood (Galán et al., 2024).

This is not a simple case of cause and effect. Human beings are complex, adaptive creatures, and the way we internalize early experiences depends on a myriad of factors, from genetics to social environment.

Yet, when researchers identify a strong correlation between severe parental discipline and traits like narcissism, Machiavellianism, psychopathy, and sadism—collectively known as the Dark Tetrad—it forces us to ask: Are we raising children who must armor themselves against the very people meant to protect them?

Depression affects many folks in the Berkshires and Hilltowns of Western Massachusetts. This is a hard place to live in during the winter.

For some, finding affordable and accessible therapy options can be challenging. Fortunately, the region offers a variety of mental health services designed to support those in need.

Struggling with depression can feel like carrying an invisible weight, one that makes everyday life seem exhausting and overwhelming.

But if you’re in Worcester, Massachusetts, you don’t have to carry that burden alone.

Affordable, compassionate care is available, and help is closer than you think. From sliding-scale therapy to specialized depression clinics, Worcester offers a range of options that ensure financial barriers don’t stand in the way of mental wellness.