👉🏽 Subscribe for thoughtful, bite-sized emails — from Liz Zhou, a neurodivergent therapist — on how to take care of your nervous system & understand your brain.
To feel your existence
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​ This is a story about how animals can help us heal our nervous systems. ​ Recently, my mom got to meet my cat, Tiger. And it was really fun to see them spend some quality time together. You see, my mom had grown up with stray cats in her neighborhood, but never had her own pet in the home. So everything about Tiger — the orange creature that I adopted from the Boulder Humane Society, with a “diagnosis” of “under-socialized & fearful” & the personality of a Sour Patch Kid — was a completely new experience for my mom. “Look, Tiger jumped onto the couch!” she would announce excitedly. “Tiger is rolling on the carpet.” “Tiger is licking her paw and using it to clean her face.” “Tiger is scratching the couch – stop it, Tiger!” And so on and so forth. ​ To feel her existence. “Yes.” I said. “That’s exactly it.” She wants us to feel her existence. I’d never put it that way, and yet those words resonated so deeply. ​ I imagine that when Tiger wants us to feel her existence, she wants to feel seen, heard, and accepted. She wants to feel like she matters. She wants to feel like we’re here with her and she’s not alone. ​ And in that sense... I think we all need someone to feel our existence. I think we owe it to each other to feel each other’s existences. To remind each other that we matter. To remember that we’re not alone, even if it feels really lonely to be here & human sometimes. ​ Being around animals has always reminded me of what really matters in life... Love. Connection. Relationships. Sometimes (or maybe always), it’s really that simple. And just as Tiger wants me to feel her existence each and every day, I hope this message reminds you that, because you are a being in this world, your existence is felt too. And in case no one has told you yet, your existence is a gift to the world. ​ To many more moments of feeling each other’s existences and remembering just how much we matter. ​ Talk soon, P.S. If you need help taking care of your nervous system, I'd love to support you. I offer ​Nervous System Healing Intensives​ — three 90-minute sessions, using brain-body modalities (Brainspotting, IFS, EMDR) that go deeper than talk therapy & help you feel better, sooner. ​
​ Intensives are a type of short-term, accelerated therapy — for folks who are looking for something different than weekly therapy; who need longer than 50-min sessions to go deep & get to the root of the issue. 👉🏽 If you want to get an Intensive on the books, click here to book an intro call. I'm scheduling for August 2025! ​ P.P.S. Know someone who needs to hear this? Forward it along. New readers can subscribe ​HERE​. I help highly sensitive, neurodivergent adults heal their nervous systems & connect with their authentic selves.
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​Liz's Neurodivergent Letters
👉🏽 Subscribe for thoughtful, bite-sized emails — from Liz Zhou, a neurodivergent therapist — on how to take care of your nervous system & understand your brain.
Would you rather… have a one-on-one hang out with a close friend, or attend a big party next Friday night? spend 1 hour watching entertaining TikTok videos, or diving into a book from your favorite genre? jam out to your favorite same song on repeat, or set your playlist on shuffle and go with the flow? There’s no right or wrong answer. Rather, your answers might reveal whether you prefer horizontal or vertical experiences. Let me explain. Vertical experiences are like digging a hole in the...
“It’s too quiet here,” one of my college dorm mates is saying. “I couldn’t even sleep last night.” It’s our second day attending college in middle-of-nowhere, Vermont, and we’re still acclimating to our new rural environment. Half-unpacked suitcases lay in our half-decorated rooms. Everyone is still learning each other’s names and how to not get lost on the way to the bathroom. My dorm mate explains that, having grown up in a big city, they aren’t used to pitch-black nights, where you’re more...
My friend’s mouth is moving and sounds are coming out, but my brain is comprehending about 50% of it. Inside, I’m scrambling. What are we talking about? How should I respond? Then it hits me. “Wait,” I say. “Can we turn off that fluorescent light?” We’re sitting in my living room, and it’s occurred to me that the lights are way too bright. Bright enough to give me a headache. We turn off the fluorescents and replace it with a calmer blue lighting. Ahhh. My nervous system immediately sighs...