I’m a therapist that specializes in anxiety because I am a human who lives with anxiety. Inside of me, there is a small animal who is easily spooked, scared to death about what others think, and constantly wanting to hide under a soft blanky instead of facing the scary world.
I’ve learned to support this part of me slowly, sometimes painstakingly, other times joyfully. I work patiently to understand the difference between who the world has told me to be and who I actually am. I do the dang mindfulness tools that support my nervous system. I make time for things that make me feel like me. I approach myself with love, care and curiosity. I make mistakes and try again.
Healing wins aren’t always flashy or big. The path can be tedious and growth can feel easy to miss. Yet once in a while, you’ll look around and think, “I DID that? Me?”
In this post, I share three times completely shocked myself, in the best way.
I came out as bisexual at age 32
I told my immediate family in an email. Whatever. It still counts.
If you had told me ten years ago that I’d be living proudly as a queer woman and in a queer relationship, I’d tell you you’ve got the wrong number.
In the few years that I wrestled with my identity before coming out, my anxious voice told me it wasn’t worth it to be honest about my sexuality. That living a half-truth was close enough. That I wouldn’t have the words, the courage. That I shouldn’t risk being misunderstood.
Today, this is one of the proudest parts of who I am, and I am honored to be taking up space and giving representation back to the community.
Nuance note: there’s much I could say about my own privilege and systemic oppression against the queer community here. I want to state clearly that it is not “just” an anxious mind that stops people from coming out. For many, there have been and still are real consequences to living their truth. Sending love to anyone in that situation, thanking the brave individuals that have paved the way in the face of big risk, and praying our world continues to heal its homophobia.
I officiated not one, but two weddings
The first time I was asked to give a speech at a wedding in 2018, I declined. The idea seemed truly insane; what if I appear nervous? Can I really let all of those people hear my voice shake? Research released in 2025 shows that approximately 75% of individuals experience some level of fear or anxiety when speaking in front of others, making it one of the most common phobias worldwide.
There was a part of me that hated saying no. This was a really special occasion, and as much as I wanted to step up in that way, I didn’t have the capacity at the time.
In the years that followed, without realizing it, I got some exposure therapy. I read a poem during one friend’s wedding ceremony, tag-teamed a co-maid of honor speech, and led a guided meditation at the beginning of another.
My first offer to officiate a wedding came around 2024. This friend, knowing the small scaredy animal that lives inside me, gave me every out to say no. While my busy mind was afraid, my body knew it was a yes. I had built my capacity enough to know that I’d survive it and was attuned to my own values enough to know that this was worth being brave for.
My second offer to officiate came the following year, and I had a similar experience. The nerves were still there but quieter, and having done it, it was an even easier yes. I knew once again that it was important. It was so super joyful.
2018 Kate would find that pretty badass.
I attended parties for a year without alcohol
I’ve written about my journey with decentering alcohol before, so I’ll link the long version below.
For the longest time, I thought alcohol was helping me survive social situations by numbing my anxiety quickly and handing me fake confidence. I’m so grateful I got to the place where I began to question if this was truly helpful.
Living without alcohol allows me to develop the resilience to live through discomfort and sensations of anxiety and show up as I am.
An unfortunate/fortunate side effect of being sober is that it’s harder to ignore that I’m usually the first to excuse myself from a party.
After all, I’ve been brave all day, and I deserve that soft blanky.
To read more about my sober journey: 100 mornings hangover-free — Kate Licciardello, LMHC