Kim's Editor Note: Piece originally written 1/1/2019 and recently updated on 1/7/2026.
This reflection is rooted in the work of Virginia Satir, often referred to as the mother of family therapy. Satir’s humanistic approach—particularly her emphasis on congruence and emotional honesty—has profoundly shaped my clinical training, my master’s thesis, and my work as a therapist. This piece is written in conversation with her legacy.
Have you ever caught yourself thinking, I wish I could do this… but I’m not good enough, smart enough, strong enough?
That quiet refrain of self-doubt can be surprisingly heavy. I carried it for years, so subtly that I didn’t always recognize it as weight. For a long time, it kept me tethered to a version of myself that felt safe but stagnant. I wasn’t learning or growing in the ways I longed for, though I had plenty of reasonable explanations at the time.
I was newly married. I had a baby. Life was full in very real ways.
And still, looking back, it wasn’t only the external demands that kept me stuck. It was my inability to fully acknowledge myself beyond a few familiar roles. I had learned how to live competently inside parts of my identity, but not how to inhabit the whole of myself.
There is nothing inherently limiting about being a partner or a mother. These are meaningful, life-giving roles. But when we become confined to any single version of ourselves, life can begin to feel quietly out of balance. That imbalance was my invitation.
One of my foundational influences as a therapist and as a human is Virginia Satir, often called the mother of family therapy. Much of Satir’s work centers on the concept of congruence: the process of becoming emotionally honest with ourselves. Congruence is not about self-improvement or self-critique. It is about alignment between what we feel, what we need, and how we live.
Incongruence, Satir taught, shows up when we consistently place everyone and everything ahead of our own internal experience. When we override our feelings. When we narrow ourselves to what feels acceptable or familiar.
For me, incongruence looked like acknowledging myself primarily as a wife and a mother, while the rest of me lingered quietly in the background—uncertain, underdeveloped, and carrying the belief that I wasn’t “enough” outside those roles.
What I began to want, slowly, gently was to become friendlier with more of myself. To know who I was as a learner. As a friend. As a person with needs, desires, and a voice worth listening to.
Satir reminds us, “You are your most important resource because you always carry yourself with you.” That truth continues to ground my work and my life. Becoming more emotionally honest with ourselves does not require sweeping change. It begins with small moments of noticing. Of naming. Of allowing.
As you look toward the coming days, you might ask:
- What would it look like to take one small step toward yourself this week?
- If you understood your feelings more fully, how might you treat them differently?
- What parts of you are asking to be acknowledged—not fixed, just known?
My hope for you is not that you discover a “new you,” but that you become more deeply acquainted with the you who has been here all along. The you you carry into every relationship. The you who longs to be integrated with honesty and care.
It is often through this kind of self-connection that we begin to recognize our own goodness, intelligence, and strength and to take risks that feel both brave and true.
With gratitude for what has been, and openness to what is unfolding.