The Therapy-Inspired Pillow You Didn’t Know You Needed

“You’re Not That Special”

There are sentences that follow you through your career, whether you intend them to or not. Some therapists have a favourite grounding technique or a list of sensory tools they reach for. Me? I have a sentence that pops out of my mouth so often that my clients now beat me to it.

“You’re not that special.”

If you’re new here, welcome to the inside of my brain. I’m Ashley — a Licensed Counselling Therapist in Moncton, originally a Nova Scotian girl with saltwater in my veins, a husband I somehow convinced to ride out life with me, three kids, ADHD, a father with dementia, and a schedule that looks like someone shook a calendar and let the events fall wherever they wanted. I’m also the woman who creates mental-health-inspired products on Etsy, half because it’s fun and half because ADHD sometimes shows up and says, “Hey, what if we started a whole business today?” And apparently, I said sure.

I’ve been doing this therapy thing for over ten years, but I still describe myself as a bit of an odd duck in the profession. I don’t sit stiffly behind a desk with a clipboard. I sit sideways in my chair like a gremlin, wearing a graphic t-shirt from the 90s and jeans, swearing just enough to keep things real. My clients tell me it makes me relatable. I tell them it’s because business-professional clothes make my soul itch. Either way, somehow it works.

And because it works, I get to walk alongside some incredible humans — people with anxiety, trauma histories, ADHD, perfectionism, grief, and a whole stack of life experiences they keep trying to wrestle into submission. I adore them. I also have a habit of saying things in therapy that make them snort-laugh mid-breakdown. Which brings me to the pillow.

The sentence that became a pillow

“You’re not that special” isn’t meant to punch someone in the self-esteem. It’s meant to break the spell of their anxiety.

Here’s the thing: when people are deep in anxiety brain, they tend to hold two competing beliefs at the same time — and both feel true.

On one hand:

“I’m the center of everyone’s attention. They’re judging me. They noticed I tripped over my own shoe three weeks ago. They’re still talking about it.”

And on the other:

“No one cares about me. I’m invisible. I don’t matter. People wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared.”

You can’t be the sun and Pluto at the same time.

You cannot be both the pivotal character in everyone’s story and the forgotten background extra.

And that’s where the sentence lands.

You’re not that special — in the best possible way.

You are not the main character in other people’s minds. They are far too busy obsessing about their own shoe-tripping moment or spiraling about their own insecurities. Humans are self-focused creatures. We’re all walking around thinking about ourselves, our lives, our problems, our next meal, and whether anyone noticed that stain on our shirt.

Once people absorb that truth, the tension drops out of their shoulders. The cognitive distortions lose a bit of power. They can breathe again.

For years, after saying it, I’ve added the same line: “Someday, someone is going to embroider that onto a pillow for me.”

Recently, it hit me — I’m someone.

I can embroider it onto a pillow… or, at least for now, print it until I track down a production partner who does pillowcase embroidery worthy of my office.

And so here we are: the birth of the “You’re Not That Special” pillow.

The funny part is that the phrase isn’t just therapeutic — it has become part of the culture of my office. Clients now bring it up before I do. They’ll be halfway through telling me a story about a social disaster that lives rent-free in their mind and suddenly stop themselves with, “Okay… okay… I know. I’m not that special.”

And they’re right.

Not in a minimizing way — in a freeing way.

Anxiety exaggerates everything. It makes us believe that people are tracking our every move, every mistake, every awkward moment. A reminder like this cuts through the noise and drops you back into perspective.

That’s why this pillow exists. It’s a grounding tool disguised as a sarcastic home décor item. It’s also a tiny rebellion against the perfectionism and self-criticism so many of us carry. And honestly? It fits perfectly into the chaos-and-comfort aesthetic that is my life.

If you want to see the pillow for yourself — or bring that grounding reminder into your own space — it’s now listed in my Etsy shop

You can also follow along with the behind-the-scenes chaos, ADHD creativity, and upcoming designs on Instagram

Or visit my website for more blogs, resources, and new product drops.

Thank you for spending a little time with me today. My writing and products all come from the same place — a blend of calm, humour, honesty, and the slightly messy reality of navigating mental health and ADHD.

This is what it actually looked like when I finished writing today’s blog.

A mess, a million tabs, printouts everywhere, and me hyperfocusing my way into a pillow launch.

The blog is up — the chaos was worth it