Sunday Scaries: Take It All In.

How often do we go through an entire day without really noticing what's happening around us?

We get caught up thinking about what happened yesterday, worrying about what's coming tomorrow, or mentally working through our never-ending to-do lists. We rush from one thing to the next, barely noticing the world around us. Meanwhile, we're missing some pretty incredible things happening right in front of us.

As I sit here on a swing overlooking a lake in Colombia, listening to the birds, feeling the breeze, and watching the clouds roll over the mountains, I'm reminded of something I spend a lot of time teaching kids, the importance of slowing down and paying attention to the present moment.

Next week, I'm taking some of my students on a sensory walk. The idea is pretty simple. We're going to step outside, slow down, and intentionally notice what we can see, hear, smell, and feel. Maybe it's the sound of leaves crunching beneath our feet, the warmth of the sun, or something colorful we normally walk right past. There's no big assignment or complicated lesson. Just an opportunity to experience the world around us.

And the funny thing is, I think us adults might need this lesson just as much as the kids.

There's actually some interesting psychology behind why this works. Our attention is a limited resource, and when we're constantly replaying the past or anticipating the future, we have less of it available for what's happening right now. Mindfulness practices help us intentionally redirect that attention. Research suggests that engaging our senses and focusing on our immediate surroundings can help reduce rumination, interrupt cycles of worry, and support emotional regulation.

One common grounding strategy is the 5-4-3-2-1 technique, which encourages us to identify five things we can see, four we can feel, three we can hear, two we can smell, and one we can taste. By shifting our attention toward concrete sensory experiences, we give our minds a break from the endless stream of thoughts competing for our attention.

Of course, being present doesn't mean we stop worrying altogether, and noticing a few birds isn't going to magically eliminate our stress. But it can give us a moment to reset, reconnect, and remember that there's a whole world happening outside of whatever is occupying our minds.

So this week, I encourage you to take your own sensory walk. It doesn't have to be somewhere beautiful or exotic. It can be around your neighborhood, through a parking lot, or even between meetings at work. Put your phone away for a few minutes, slow down, and pay attention. What do you hear? What do you notice? What have you walked past a hundred times without really seeing?

Sometimes we're so focused on getting somewhere else that we forget to appreciate where we already are.

The world doesn't have to slow down for us to slow down. Sometimes we just have to remember to notice it.

Have a great week, everyone! 🌿

Sunday Scaries: The Beauty of Being Out of Place

I'm writing this week's Sunday Scaries from somewhere a little different. I'm sitting in the mountains of Colombia, surrounded by jungle, listening to birds I've never heard before, watching clouds roll through the valleys and the sun disappear behind the mountains. It's pretty incredible. It's also a reminder of how different the world can feel when we step outside the places and routines we're used to.

There's something interesting about being somewhere unfamiliar. Different languages, different foods, different people, and a completely different way of doing things. It's exciting, but it can also be uncomfortable. And I've been thinking about how much of our growth happens in those moments when we aren't entirely sure what we're doing.

Our brains actually prefer familiarity. Predictability helps us feel safe, and our routines allow us to move through the day without having to think about every little decision. But when we encounter something new, our brains have to adapt. Neuroplasticity, the brain's ability to create and strengthen neural connections, is influenced by new experiences and learning. When we challenge ourselves, we give our brains opportunities to develop new skills, perspectives, and ways of thinking.

There's also an interesting relationship between stress and performance, often described by the Yerkes-Dodson law. A little stress or challenge can help motivate us, sharpen our attention, and encourage learning. Too much stress, however, can overwhelm us and make those things more difficult. The goal isn't to constantly push ourselves into uncomfortable situations, but to find opportunities to stretch ourselves without becoming overwhelmed.

I see this all the time working with kids. Think about a student walking into a new classroom, trying a sport for the first time, or approaching a group of kids on the playground. Those experiences might seem small to an adult, but for a child, they can feel enormous. There's uncertainty, fear of rejection, and the possibility that things won't go as planned. But there's also the possibility of making a new friend, discovering a new interest, or realizing they're capable of something they didn't think they could do.

And I think adults need those reminders just as much as kids do. We get pretty comfortable with our routines and the things we know we're good at. It's easy to avoid situations where we might feel awkward, uncertain, or inexperienced. But if we only stick with what feels comfortable, we might miss out on some pretty incredible experiences.

One of the things I try to remind kids is that two feelings can exist at the same time. You can be scared and brave at the same time. You can feel out of place and still belong. Being nervous about trying something doesn't mean you're not ready to try it. Sometimes courage is simply being willing to give something a chance, even when you're not sure how it's going to turn out.

And growth isn't always about succeeding; sometimes it's simply discovering that you were capable of trying.

So this week, I want to encourage you to find one small opportunity to step outside your comfort zone. Maybe that's talking to someone new, trying a different activity, asking a question, or taking a chance on something you've been putting off. It doesn't have to involve traveling to another country or doing something dramatic. Sometimes all it takes is a few steps across the playground.

Because sometimes the most beautiful things happen when we're willing to feel a little out of place.

Happy Sunday, everyone!

Go Play!

This weekend, I found myself behind our school on a Saturday evening at a little community event. It was one of those beautiful fall nights where the weather was perfect, the sun was starting to set, and kids were just everywhere playing. They were running around, making up games, laughing, chasing each other, falling down, getting back up, and becoming best friends with another kid for twenty minutes.

Standing there watching it, my heart felt huge. I spend a lot of my life around kids, so obviously I see kids play all the time, but there was something different about watching it outside of the structure of a school day. There was no bell coming, nobody was trying to squeeze in one more lesson, and nobody cared if what they were doing was productive. They were just playing, and it reminded me that play is not what kids do when the important stuff is finished. Play is important stuff.

When kids make up a game, change the rules, disagree, compromise, lose, try again, and figure out how to keep playing together, they are practicing problem-solving, communication, flexibility, self-control, creativity, and how to handle frustration. A huge amount of social and emotional learning happens in moments that, from the outside, just look like kids messing around.

And honestly, I don't think we outgrow the need for that. Adults just stop calling it play. We call it hiking, playing music, cooking, skiing, games, hobbies, laughing with friends, throwing a ball around, or doing something ridiculous simply because it is fun. Somewhere along the way, though, we get very serious, and even our hobbies can become things we are supposed to improve at, track, optimize, or be good at.

Saturday night was a nice reminder that not everything has to accomplish something. The sun was going down, kids were running everywhere, people were laughing, and I kept thinking how good it felt to just be part of it and watch it happen.

So this week's Sunday Scaries assignment is simple: go play. Let your kids play, and find something this week that you do for no reason other than it makes you happy. Maybe play is not the opposite of all the serious things in life. Maybe it is one of the things that makes all the serious stuff worth it.

Getting Out of a Funk

I was in a funk the other day. Not like anything huge had happened, and I couldn’t really point to one specific thing that was wrong. I just felt off. I was in my head, kind of down, kind of irritated, and I knew I was there but couldn’t seem to shake it.

I think that’s one of the weird things about funks. Sometimes you know exactly why you’re in one. You had a bad day, something happened with a friend, school is stressful, work is stressful, you didn’t sleep, whatever. Other times it’s just this collection of little things that builds up until suddenly you don’t really feel like yourself.

For me, one of the first things I notice is that I start pulling inward. I think more. I talk less. Things that normally don’t bother me suddenly feel heavier. I can get stuck replaying the same stuff in my head, and even when I know that’s what I’m doing, it doesn’t always mean I can just stop.

So I tried some of the obvious stuff. I went for a walk. I drank some water. I tried getting out of the house and moving around a little bit. All good things, and probably things I needed to do anyway, but I was still kind of in it.

And I actually think that’s important. Sometimes we make coping skills sound like they’re supposed to immediately fix how you feel. Go for a walk and boom, better. Take some deep breaths and now everything is fine. That’s not really how it works. Sometimes the walk helps 5%. Sometimes drinking some water helps 2%. Sometimes you do all the healthy stuff and still feel crummy for a while.

Later, one of my older mentors stopped by. She could tell I wasn’t quite myself and said some really kind things to me. Nothing dramatic. She didn’t solve anything. She just knew me well enough to remind me of some things I probably needed to hear at that moment. Then I got a really great hug from her daughter, which definitely didn’t hurt.

That was probably the first time all day I felt myself come out of it a little bit.

I think there are two parts to getting out of a funk. The first is noticing that you’re in one. That sounds obvious, but it really isn’t. Sometimes you’ve been quieter, more annoyed, more tired, less interested in things, or spending way more time in your own head for a few days before you even realize what’s happening.

The second part is not expecting one thing to magically fix it. Maybe you need movement. Maybe you need food or sleep or water. Maybe you need to get off your phone. Maybe you need to do something you normally enjoy even if you don’t really feel like doing it. And sometimes you need another person.

That last one is probably the hardest because when I’m in a funk, reaching out is usually not the thing I want to do. I want to disappear into my own head and figure it out myself. But sometimes another person can see us a little more clearly than we can see ourselves in that moment.

So if you’re in a funk this week, maybe don’t make the goal “feel amazing.” Just notice it. Try one thing. Then another thing. Go for the walk. Drink the water. Get some sleep. Talk to somebody. Let someone be nice to you. Take the hug.

You don’t have to solve everything at once. Sometimes you just need to find the first little thing that helps you start feeling like yourself again.

What’s Underneath the Anger?

For the last few weeks at school, I’ve been teaching fifth graders about anger. We started with anger thermometers, then talked about body clues, and this week we moved into anger icebergs: the idea that anger is often the part everyone sees, while underneath it might be worry, embarrassment, disappointment, sadness, fear, or feeling overwhelmed.

One student shared a great example. They talked about getting really mad at a sibling one morning because the sibling kept asking them for something while they were trying to get ready for school. At first, it sounded pretty simple: My sibling was annoying me, so I got mad.

But when we started looking underneath the iceberg, there was a lot more going on. They were worried about being late. They were thinking about what was happening at school that day. They felt rushed. And then there were all the other little worries that come with being an elementary school kid: friends, teachers, assignments, recess, fitting in, remembering everything you’re supposed to remember.

The sibling just happened to ask for something when the thermometer was already at about a seven.

There’s actually a reason anger can work like this. Anger can serve a protective function. When our brain perceives a threat, frustration, unfairness, or loss of control, our body prepares us to do something about it. Our heart rate can increase, our muscles tense, and our attention narrows toward whatever seems to be the problem. Anger gives us energy to act.

That can be incredibly useful. It’s also why the person asking you a completely innocent question at the wrong time can suddenly feel like Public Enemy No. 1.

And that’s why we spent time learning body clues before we ever got to the iceberg. Our bodies can tell us the temperature is rising before we understand what’s underneath it. Maybe your jaw tightens. Maybe your stomach feels weird. Maybe you start talking faster or louder. Maybe you get really quiet. Learning your own clues gives you a chance to catch yourself before the anger takes over the whole story.

The goal isn’t to get rid of anger. Anger is normal, and sometimes it’s telling us something important. The goal is to get a little better at understanding what it’s trying to protect.

So, homework for this week: the next time you notice yourself getting irritated, check your thermometer. Notice what your body is doing. Then take a look underneath the iceberg and ask yourself: What else am I feeling right now? What was happening before I got angry?

Maybe you really are just mad.

But maybe your sibling, partner, coworker, friend, or random person driving 12 miles under the speed limit—is just standing in front of something much bigger.

Asking for Help is OK!

I work with a lot of different people, kids, adults, interns, coworkers, students—and one thing I’ve noticed is that we are all pretty good at pretending we know what we’re doing.

There’s something difficult about admitting that we don’t know something. Maybe we’re embarrassed. Maybe we think people will see us as less capable or less intelligent. Maybe we’ve convinced ourselves that we should be able to figure it out on our own. So instead of asking for help, we struggle, make mistakes, waste a bunch of time, and occasionally make things way harder than they ever needed to be.

I learned this lesson while trying to fix something electrical at my house. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but instead of calling someone who did, I kept messing with it. I tried things. I got frustrated. I made mistakes. I even shocked myself, which probably should have been a pretty strong indication that perhaps I was no longer qualified for the job.

Eventually, I called a friend and asked for help. She showed me what I was doing wrong, explained what I needed to do, and we figured it out in about five minutes. Five minutes! I had probably spent twenty times that long trying to fake my way through it because that was easier than saying, “Hey, I don’t know how to do this.”

The funny thing is, research suggests that asking for help is actually an important part of learning. When we ask someone to explain something, show us what we’re missing, or help us work through a problem, we aren’t avoiding learning—we’re doing it. We also tend to underestimate how willing other people are to help us. That person you’re worried about bothering might actually be perfectly happy that you asked.

Of course, asking for help doesn’t mean handing somebody your problem and saying, “You do it.” Sometimes it’s simply saying, “Can you show me?” or “I’m stuck here. What am I missing?” The goal isn’t to have someone else do the hard thing for you. It’s to learn enough that maybe next time, you can do a little more of it yourself.

And pretending we know what we’re doing can have real consequences. Sometimes we waste an hour. Sometimes we make a mistake at work or school. Sometimes we make a bad decision because we were too afraid to ask a question.

So maybe the better question isn’t, “Why don’t I know how to do this?” Maybe it’s, “Who can help me learn how to do this?” Not knowing something isn’t the problem. Staying stuck because we’re afraid to admit we don’t know is.

This week, if you’re confused, overwhelmed, stuck, or just have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, try saying it. Ask the question. Call the friend. Raise your hand. Because asking for help isn’t proof that you aren’t capable. Sometimes it’s one of the smartest things you can do.

You don’t have to know everything. You just have to be willing to ask.

What makes a friend?

A kid asked me recently how you make a friend, and then followed it up with an even better question… what even is a friend? I gave him an answer at the time, but I’ve thought about it a few times since because it’s actually a pretty good question. We spend our entire lives making friends, losing friends, finding new ones, and trying to keep up with old ones, but I’m not sure how often we stop and think about what actually makes someone a friend.

As an adult, I think about the people I consider my friends and a lot of it is pretty simple. We go out to eat, watch sports, go to movies or concerts, play music, or just do the things we both like doing. Sometimes we talk on the phone, although that feels like it happens WAY less than it used to. But ultimately, I think a friend is someone who is there for you. They’re there when something really cool happens and you can’t wait to tell someone, but they’re also there when things are hard and you need somebody in your corner.

I also think we learn as we get older that there are all kinds of friends. As a kid, there’s so much emphasis on having a “best friend,” like we’re all supposed to choose one person and hand them the trophy. But life doesn’t really work that way. There are work friends, school friends, sports friends, friends you tell everything to, and friends you mostly just have a really good time with. There are also friends who are only around for a season. Sometimes nobody did anything wrong and nobody had some giant falling out… life just changed. Someone can be really important during one part of your life and not be part of the next one, and that doesn’t make the friendship any less real.

So how do you actually make a friend? I think you just have to put yourself out there a little bit. Say hi. Sit next to somebody. Ask a question. Invite someone to do something. Sometimes it’s awkward, and sometimes the other person doesn’t choose you back. That part isn’t particularly fun whether you’re 10 or 37. But most friendships probably started because one person made a tiny effort and the other person made one back.

Keeping friends might actually be harder. Life gets busy, especially as adults, and it’s easy to assume the people we care about know we care about them. Send the text anyway. Make the plan. Remember the thing they told you about. Celebrate the good stuff with them and show up for the hard stuff. Friendship doesn’t have to mean talking every day, but I do think it means continuing to make space for each other.

Maybe that’s the answer I should have given the kid. A friend is someone you enjoy being around, but it’s also someone who makes you feel like there’s a place for you in their life. You make a little effort, they make a little effort back, and over time you keep choosing each other.

Actually… maybe that’s pretty good advice for the adults too.

The Sunday Scaries: Maybe Take the Chance

I started going to a book club this month.

Which, honestly, is probably a small example of what I want to talk about this week. Going somewhere new, sitting in a room with people I didn’t really know, and then somehow ending up in a conversation about some of our deepest fears.

You know, casual book club stuff.

We talked about letting people down, looking stupid, failing, not being open enough, putting yourself out there and having it not work out. And as I sat there listening, I kept hearing a common theme underneath a lot of it: taking a chance is freaking hard.

Because the alternative is really, really comfortable.

There is a reason we stay in our comfort zones. They work. We know what happens there. We know the routine, we know the people, and we know what we are good at. Maybe more importantly, we know how to avoid the things we aren't good at. It’s the path of least resistance, and honestly, there is something pretty nice about that.

And I don't even think comfort is necessarily a bad thing. Routine can be good. I love a routine. There is something great about knowing what your day looks like and feeling like you have some control over it. But I think the problem comes when comfortable quietly turns into stuck, and we don't even really notice it happening.

Sitting in that room of strangers talking about fear, I started thinking about what it actually means to face one. I think sometimes we picture facing a fear as this giant, dramatic moment where we suddenly decide we aren't scared anymore. Quit the job. Get on the plane. Tell the person how you feel. Sign up for the thing. Jump straight into the deep end and hope you figure out how to swim.

But maybe it doesn't have to work like that.

Maybe facing something you're afraid of is a lot more boring than that. Maybe you just put your feet in the water for a while. Then next time you go a little deeper. You don't have to cannonball into the damn pool just because you finally decided you wanted to get in.

I think that's where taking chances can feel a little more manageable. It doesn't have to mean blowing up your entire life or becoming some wildly adventurous new version of yourself overnight. It might just mean sending an email you've been thinking about, going somewhere by yourself, trying something you've always wondered about, saying yes when your first instinct is to come up with an excuse, or finally having a conversation you've been avoiding.

And sure, some of those things might not work out. You might look a little silly. Someone might say no. You might try something new and discover that you absolutely freaking hate it. But that's also kind of the deal, right? If we want the possibility of something new happening, we have to accept at least a little bit of the possibility that it doesn't go the way we hoped.

The funny thing is, I don't think most of us need to completely reinvent our lives. We probably just need to get a little more comfortable being uncomfortable every once in a while. Because every time we do something that scares us a little bit and survive it—which, spoiler alert, we usually do—the scary thing gets just a tiny bit smaller.

So that's the homework this week. Think about something you've been avoiding, putting off, or talking yourself out of simply because it feels uncomfortable. You don't have to conquer it this week, and you definitely don't need to jump into the deep end. Just ask yourself what putting your feet in the water would look like.

Maybe it's sending the text. Maybe it's showing up somewhere new. Maybe it's asking the question, signing up for something, or finally telling somebody what you've been thinking. Whatever it is, make it small enough that you can actually do it.

Because your comfort zone isn't the enemy. It's comfortable for a reason, and sometimes it's a pretty great place to be. I just don't know if we're supposed to spend all of our time there.

So this week, maybe wander a few steps outside of it and see what happens.

You can always come back.

But you might find something out there worth staying for.

How Do You Find Your Peace?

This week, I woke up at 5:00 a.m. to go for a walk, a practice I’ve been trying to add to my days since returning to school. This particular morning was different. There was a lightning storm in the distance, and I found myself completely in awe watching the sky light up while everything around me was still dark and quiet.

Then it started pouring. For about 45 seconds, the rain came down HARD, and admittedly, I was a little annoyed. Here I was, awake at 5:00 in the morning trying to do something healthy and peaceful, and now I was soaking wet. But almost as quickly as it started, it stopped, and the storm gave way to an incredible sunrise filled with pinks and reds. Somewhere in the middle of all of it, I found myself hysterically laughing. How amazing is it to be awake, basically dancing through a rainstorm, and watching another day begin?

Life can be a lot of things. It can be stressful, sad, overwhelming, busy, exciting, lonely, full, or sometimes strangely empty. We’re really good at noticing all of those things, especially the difficult ones. But peaceful? Peace seems to be one of those things that gets pushed aside.

I think part of the problem is that we expect peace to be bigger than it actually is. We imagine a vacation, an empty calendar, a weekend in the mountains, or some magical day where nobody needs anything from us. But maybe peace isn’t the absence of stress, responsibility, or difficult things. Maybe it’s just the little moments we find in the middle of them.

What brings you peace? Is it a late-night concert on a school night with your partner? Sitting outside watching the bugs, stars, sunsets, or people having fun? Walking your dog? Playing music? Spending time with the people you care about most? Peace can feel so difficult to find, yet somehow it’s also all around us. Sometimes we’re just moving too fast to recognize it.

Your Peace Homework

This week, find one peaceful moment every day. You don’t have to change anything about your routine or go searching for some perfect moment. Just notice it when it happens. Stay there for a few extra seconds and actually take it in.

Life is going to keep being stressful, weird, beautiful, frustrating, funny, and hard—sometimes all within about 45 seconds.

But peace is there too.

This week, let’s make sure we notice it.

Sunday Scaries: A Box of Assorted Feelings

As I head into year 14 as a school psychologist, and year 10 at the same school, I feel a little bit like one of those Valentine’s boxes of assorted chocolates.

Except instead of chocolates, it’s feelings.

I’m excited. Excited to meet new kids, reconnect with the ones I already know, try new things, and take on whatever challenges come my way.

I’m also nervous. Who wouldn’t be?

Even though I’ve been doing this for twice as many Super Bowls as Tom Brady has won, there’s still some self-doubt that sneaks in before the first day.

What if I mess up? What if my lessons aren’t good? What if I’m not as good at this as I used to be?

And underneath all of that, I’m happy to be back. I get to run around at recess, spend my days with some pretty amazing kids and coworkers, and be a sounding board when someone needs to talk about the hard stuff, or just whatever weird thing happened that day.

It’s a pretty full box of chocolates.

Where Did Summer Go?

Every year around this time, I do the same thing.

First, I grieve summer.

Where did it go? How is it already over? What did I even do?!

Then I actually stop and think about it.

Oh yeah.

I traveled. I spent time with friends and family. I played music. I had some great days. I had some hard days. I had moments I wish I could go back to and others I’m perfectly fine leaving behind.

Because summer doesn’t magically exempt us from being human.

Life still has its ups and downs whether we’re working or not. The difference is that summer can give us a little more room to move through them.

Then school starts again and suddenly the calendar fills up. The alarms come back. Our days become much more structured.

There’s something comforting about that. I know where I’m supposed to be. I know what my day generally looks like.

But structure doesn’t mean certainty.

There are still going to be surprises. There will be great days and days when absolutely nothing goes according to plan.

So instead of wishing summer could last forever, I’ve been thinking about a different question:

What parts of summer can I bring with me?

Bring Some of It With You

When life was less structured this summer, what actually helped?

For me, I made time for things I enjoyed. I got outside. I traveled. I played music. I spent time with people I care about. And sometimes I did absolutely nothing without trying to turn it into something productive.

Why do those things suddenly become optional when we’re busy?

We talk a lot about wanting to “be more present,” but that’s a pretty vague goal. So this year, I’m trying to make it more concrete.

• Keep something fun on the calendar. It doesn’t need to be a vacation. Give yourself something to look forward to.

• Get outside. Walk, run, sit in the grass, throw a ball around. Just get out of the building for a little while.

• Protect your people. Busy schedules have a funny way of pushing relationships to the bottom of the list.

• Let rest actually be rest. You don’t have to optimize every free second.

• Notice the good moments while they’re happening. Not six months later when you’re looking through pictures wishing you could go back.

The things that recharge us don’t need to disappear just because the calendar says August.

Another Sunday Scary

School is a lot of things.

It can be challenging, stressful and, yes, a little scary.

But that’s not the whole story.

School is seeing your friends again. It’s having adults in your life who care about you. It’s discovering something you’re good at. It’s learning something you didn’t know yesterday. It’s struggling with something, trying again, and realizing you can do hard things.

And maybe that’s what I need to remember heading into year 14.

I don’t need to have the entire year figured out on the first day.

Neither do you.

So as another summer ends and another school year begins, here’s this week’s Sunday Scary:

What is one thing from your summer that helped you feel like yourself, and how can you make sure you don’t lose it when life gets busy again?

Summer has to end.

The good parts don’t have to.

Sometimes You Miss Your Train by Two Minutes

This summer my mom and I traveled through Europe. If you’ve ever traveled by train, you know they’re kind of amazing… until they’re not.

Sometimes we’d make our connection with minutes to spare. Other times we’d watch the train pull away just as we got to the platform. Once, because of the heat, trains were delayed for hours. Plans changed. Routes moved. We ended up hopping on trains we never planned to take and visiting places we never expected to see.

At the time, those moments felt frustrating. It’s easy to get caught up thinking, “This isn’t how today was supposed to go.”

But looking back, I don’t really remember the delays.

I remember wandering through train stations with my mom, laughing while trying to figure out announcements in languages we didn’t understand, stumbling across beautiful little towns, and realizing that somehow we always got where we needed to be.

It made me think about how often life works the same way.

As we head back to school, there will be days that don’t go according to plan. Maybe your child doesn’t get the teacher they were hoping for. Maybe they forget their lunch, have a hard test, don’t make the team they wanted, or have a friendship that feels different than expected.

Our first instinct is often to focus on everything that’s gone wrong. We replay it. We worry about what might happen next. Before we know it, one difficult moment has taken over an entire day.

The truth is, we spend a lot of time trying to control things that were never ours to control.

We can’t control train delays. We can’t control traffic. We can’t control other people’s choices. We can’t control every challenge our kids will face this year.

What we can control is how we respond.

We can choose patience over panic. Curiosity over frustration. Gratitude over resentment. We can remind ourselves, and our kids, that a change in plans doesn’t have to become a bad day.

Years from now, I won’t remember what time our train was supposed to leave.

I’ll remember taking that trip with my mom.

And I have a feeling that years from now, our kids won’t remember every worksheet, every quiz, or every schedule change either. They’ll remember the people who made them feel safe, encouraged them when things didn’t go as planned, and reminded them that sometimes the unexpected parts of the journey end up being the best stories.

Here’s to a new school year.

I hope we all remember that missing the train isn’t always the end of the adventure. Sometimes it’s just the beginning of a different one.

How to Make the Most of the Upcoming Summer Break

Summer is starting, and I think a lot of us hit this time of year expecting ourselves to magically feel relaxed and happy the second life slows down.

And at first, it does feel good.

The alarms ease up.
The calendar opens up.
There’s finally room to breathe again.

But something weird also happens with too much unstructured time: days start disappearing.

You wake up, scroll a little, run an errand, watch something, maybe tell yourself you’ll do something “tomorrow,” and suddenly it’s somehow mid-July.

None of that is bad, by the way. Rest matters. A lazy day is not a wasted day. I think people forget that sometimes.... especially me !

But I do think summer feels better when at least some of it is intentional.

Not packed.
Not over-scheduled.
Just… a bit... purposeful.

The summers people remember usually aren’t the ones where they optimized every second. They’re the ones where they were actually present for parts of it.

A random concert.
Late-night talks on a patio.
Learning something for no reason other than curiosity.
Reading outside.
Road trips.
Morning walks.
Starting a project you may or may not finish.
Actually texting the friend you keep saying you miss.

Small things, but real things.

I’ve been thinking lately that a pretty good framework for summer is probably just:

Rest a little.
Connect a little.
Grow a little.

Sleep in sometimes.... I mean I'm going to try for 6:30
See people you care about.
Try something new.
Get outside more.
Let your brain breathe for a minute.

You don’t need to “win” summer.

You also don’t need to accidentally sleepwalk through it either.

Because time is strange like that. The older you get, the faster it seems to move. And I think part of that is because routines make weeks blur together.

Presence slows things down.

Attention slows things down.

So this is probably my reminder to myself as much as anybody else:

Don’t let the whole summer happen in the background.

Why Some People Feel Draining to Be Around

You know what’s interesting about friendships as you get older?

You start realizing that not every relationship is supposed to feel draining.

For a long time, I think I confused loyalty with emotional endurance. I thought being a good friend meant always listening, always helping, always calming someone down, always carrying the emotional weight of the relationship. And don’t get me wrong, good friendships absolutely involve support. Life gets messy. People go through hard seasons. We all need people sometimes.

But there’s a difference between supporting someone and becoming responsible for their emotional stability.

I’ve had friendships where I’d leave dinner, a phone call, or even just a quick interaction feeling strangely exhausted. Not because anything dramatic happened. Just because the entire relationship revolved around managing someone else’s emotions. Every conversation became about a crisis. Every frustration needed immediate solving. Every situation somehow became emotionally urgent.

And after enough time, you start noticing something: some people add energy to your life, and some people quietly take it from you.

The older I get, the more I value people who can carry themselves emotionally. Not people who never struggle, honestly, I trust people more when they’re open about struggling …but people who know how to regulate themselves without making everyone around them responsible for fixing their internal world.

I remember thinking about this after spending time with two different groups of people in the same week. One interaction left me completely depleted. I felt tense driving home, replaying the conversation, almost like I had just worked a shift instead of hung out with friends. The other group? We laughed, talked about real things, vented a little, joked around, and afterward I felt lighter than when I arrived. Same amount of time. Completely different emotional effect.

That’s when it really clicked for me.

Healthy relationships don’t constantly feel like emotional triage.

The best people to be around usually bring some combination of self-awareness, accountability, humor, perspective, and emotional steadiness. They don’t dump every feeling onto other people and expect them to carry it. They own their emotions while still allowing connection and vulnerability.

And honestly, those relationships feel safe in a completely different way. You don’t leave feeling responsible for someone else’s nervous system.

You leave feeling more like yourself.

I think a lot of us slowly learn this lesson over time: being kind does not mean you have to emotionally absorb everyone around you. You can care deeply about people while also recognizing which relationships consistently leave you anxious, depleted, guilty, or emotionally overextended.

The people who belong in your life long term are usually the ones who add something to it — peace, laughter, perspective, encouragement, honesty, calm, energy, growth. Not constant chaos disguised as closeness.

And once you experience relationships that feel energizing instead of exhausting, it becomes a lot harder to settle for the ones that only drain you.

Why Waiting for Confidence Doesn’t Work

A lot of people believe confidence is something you’re supposed to feel before you act. The idea is that once you finally feel ready, once those nerves calm down and your brain gives you the green light…then you’ll take the step. You’ll speak up in the meeting, try something new, start the project, or have the conversation you’ve been avoiding. It sounds nice in theory, but in real life, that’s almost never how it works.

Confidence doesn’t usually show up first. It tends to come after we act, not before.

I was reminded of this the first time I played live music in front of people. It wasn’t some massive crowd, but in my head it might as well have been a stadium. I remember standing there with sweaty hands, overthinking every note, and feeling completely unprepared. There was no moment where I suddenly felt confident. No internal voice saying, “You’ve got this.” If anything, it was the opposite, my brain was actively suggesting I pack up and disappear. But I played anyway. It wasn’t perfect (honestly, parts of it were objectively rough), but I got through it. And that experience, messy as it was, mattered more than any amount of mental preparation I could have done beforehand.

That’s the part people miss. Confidence isn’t something your brain hands you in advance as a reward for thinking hard enough. It’s something your brain builds through evidence. Each time you do something uncomfortable and survive it, your brain takes note. “Okay, we tried that. It wasn’t ideal, but we didn’t fall apart. Maybe we can handle that again.” Over time, those small moments stack up, and eventually your brain starts to trust you, not because things feel easy, but because you’ve proven you can handle difficulty.

If you think about learning anything new, playing guitar, driving a car, giving a presentation, no one starts confident. The first attempts are almost always awkward and clumsy. You hesitate, you overthink, you make mistakes. That’s not a sign that something is wrong; that is the process. The problem is that many people interpret that discomfort as a signal to stop, when in reality it’s just a normal part of learning.

This is why waiting to feel confident can keep people stuck for a long time. The feeling they’re waiting for usually doesn’t arrive until after they’ve already started. It’s a bit like waiting to feel in shape before going to the gym—it sounds logical, but it completely reverses how growth actually works.

From a psychological standpoint, confidence is less about emotion and more about memory. Your brain is constantly scanning past experiences and asking, “Have we done something like this before, and did we make it through?” Every time the answer is yes, even a shaky, imperfect yes, it strengthens your sense of capability. Over time, that repeated exposure builds something more durable than a temporary feeling: it builds trust in yourself.

That’s why confident people aren’t necessarily less anxious or more certain. They’ve just accumulated more experiences where they’ve handled discomfort and come out the other side. They don’t expect things to feel easy; they trust that they can figure things out when they’re hard.

So confidence isn’t the absence of nerves, self-doubt, or awkwardness. It’s the belief that those things won’t overwhelm you. And that belief isn’t something you think your way into, it’s something you build through action.

If there’s something you’ve been putting off because you’re waiting to feel more confident, it might be worth flipping the approach. Instead of asking, “How do I feel ready?” the better question is, “What’s one small version of this I could try right now?” Not perfectly, not flawlessly, just enough to give your brain a new piece of evidence.

Because in the end, confidence doesn’t come from waiting. It comes from showing up, doing the uncomfortable thing, and realizing, again and again, that you’re more capable than your brain initially gives you credit for.

Why We Think Everyone Is Judging Us…And why they usually aren’t

Most of us are walking around stuck on a thought…

People are watching me.

They notice when I say something awkward.
They notice when I stumble over my words.
They notice when I do something a little off.

It feels like there’s a spotlight on us at all times, just highlighting every tiny mistake.

There’s actually a name for this: the spotlight effect.

It’s the tendency to wildly overestimate how much other people are paying attention to us.

But here’s the reality that’s both humbling and freeing:

Most people are way too busy thinking about themselves.

They’re replaying their own conversations.
Thinking about their own stress.
Wondering if they sounded weird five minutes ago.

Everyone else is standing in their own spotlight.

Think about the last time someone said something a little awkward around you.

You probably noticed… for like two seconds.

Then your brain moved on.

Back to your life. Your thoughts. Your stuff.

But when it’s you?

That same moment becomes a full-blown highlight reel.

Why did I say that?
Did that sound dumb?
I shouldn’t have said that…

And suddenly a 10-second moment turns into a 10-hour mental loop.

What’s interesting is… that loop usually has way more to do with us than the situation.

When anxiety is high, the spotlight gets brighter.
When confidence is low, everything feels more exposed.

But when people start to feel a little more grounded in themselves, something shifts.

They stop performing.

They stop monitoring every word.

They just… exist in the moment.

And ironically, that’s when they become easier to connect with.

Not because they suddenly got better socially.

But because they stopped trying so hard.

So how do you actually push through the spotlight effect?

Not by trying to “be perfect.” That just feeds it.

Instead:

1. Shrink the audience in your head
Remind yourself: No one is analyzing me the way I’m analyzing me.
Literally say it if you need to.

2. Let the moment be awkward
Don’t fix it. Don’t over-explain.
Most of the time, the recovery is worse than the moment.

3. Shift your focus outward
Ask a question. Get curious about the other person.
Attention is like a flashlight—you can aim it away from yourself.

4. Stop the replay early
Catch it when your brain starts looping:
“Yep, that happened. Moving on.”
You don’t need a full post-game breakdown.

5. Practice being seen imperfectly
This is the real work.
Say something slightly messy. Be a little off. And… survive it.
That’s how the spotlight loses power.

The weird truth is this:

When you stop worrying so much about how you’re coming across…

You actually come across better.

More relaxed.
More natural.
More you.

And that’s what people connect with anyway.

Not perfection.

Just presence.

The Difference Between Comfort and Happiness

Comfort and happiness often look the same from the outside.

A routine.
A familiar place.
A life that feels steady and predictable.

But psychologically, they’re very different experiences.

Comfort feels safe.

It’s the same breakfast order.
The same drive.
The same conversations.
The same environments where you already know how things will go.

Comfort protects you from stress.

And there’s nothing wrong with that.
We all need places in our lives where we can relax and not have to think so much.

But happiness doesn’t really come from staying there.

Happiness tends to show up when we move toward something that matters.

Trying a new food.
Traveling somewhere unfamiliar.
Starting a conversation with someone you wouldn’t normally talk to.
Learning something new.
Putting yourself in a situation where you don’t quite know how it’s going to go.

Those moments don’t feel comfortable.

They feel uncertain.
Sometimes awkward.
Sometimes even a little stressful.

And that’s where people can get stuck….

Because when something feels uncomfortable, the brain is quick to say:

“Something’s wrong!” “Don’t do this!

But a lot of the time, nothing is wrong.

You’re just doing something new.

You’re stretching.

You’re stepping outside of what’s familiar.

And that feeling… the slight discomfort, the uncertainty… is often the exact space where growth happens.

Comfort keeps life stable.

But too much comfort can slowly make life feel smaller.

The days start to blur together.
Nothing feels especially bad… but nothing feels especially exciting either.

Happiness usually lives just outside that space.

Not in chaos.
Not in constant stress.

Just a little beyond what you’re used to.

It’s in trying something different.
Meeting someone new.
Saying yes when your first instinct is to stay where it’s easy.

That doesn’t mean you need to change everything.

Sometimes it’s small.

Ordering something new instead of the usual.
Taking a different route.
Talking to someone new.
Putting yourself in a slightly unfamiliar situation and staying there long enough to realize you’re okay.

The goal isn’t to eliminate comfort.

Comfort matters.

But when comfort becomes the only goal, life can start to shrink without you really noticing.

And sometimes, the way back to feeling more alive isn’t a huge change.

It’s just a small stretch.

So the question becomes:

Where might you be ready to step just a little outside your comfort zone?

Why We Overthink Text Messages

Few modern experiences trigger anxiety quite like a short text message.

You send something thoughtful.

Then the response comes back.

“Okay.”

“Sure.”

“Sounds good.”

Four words or fewer.

And suddenly your brain starts spinning.

Are they annoyed?
Did I say something wrong?
Why was that response so short?
Are they upset with me?

Within seconds, a simple exchange can turn into a full psychological investigation.

The strange thing about texting is that it removes almost everything our brains normally rely on to understand communication.

When people talk face to face, we get information from dozens of signals.

Tone of voice.
Facial expressions.
Body language.
Timing.

Those signals help our brain interpret meaning.

But texting removes most of those clues.

All that’s left are words on a screen.

And when the brain encounters missing information, it does what it always does.

It fills in the gaps.

Unfortunately, anxious brains tend to fill those gaps with negative interpretations.

A short reply becomes a sign of irritation.

A delayed reply becomes a sign of rejection.

A missing emoji becomes a sign of emotional distance.

But most of the time, the explanation is far less dramatic.

They were walking somewhere.
They were busy at work.
They responded quickly between meetings.

Sometimes a short message is just… a short message.

One of the challenges of modern communication is that we often read emotional meaning into messages that were never meant to carry that much weight.

And once the brain starts spinning a story, it becomes hard to stop.

This is why many therapists encourage people to pause when they notice themselves analyzing texts too deeply.

Instead of asking:

What does this mean?

It can be helpful to ask:

Do I actually have enough information to know what this means?

Most of the time, the answer is no.

And when we allow for that uncertainty, something interesting happens.

The anxiety often fades.

Because the story our brain was writing never had much evidence in the first place.

Why We Feel Like Giving Up…And what that feeling is actually trying to tell us

Everyone reaches a moment where they want to quit.

A project.
A relationship.
A goal.
A plan that once felt exciting but now just feels heavy.

Sometimes the thought shows up quietly.

What’s the point?

Other times it’s louder.

Maybe I should just give up.

Most people assume that feeling means something has gone wrong.

But often it means something else.

It means you’ve reached the middle.

And the middle is where motivation almost always disappears.

The beginning is fueled by hope

When we start something new, our brain is full of energy.

We imagine the outcome.

The new job.
The healthier routine.
The stronger relationship.
The finished project.

Hope carries us through the beginning.

The middle is fueled by friction

Then reality arrives.

Things take longer than expected.
Progress feels slow.
Effort starts to outweigh excitement.

This is the point where people start wondering if they should quit.

But the feeling of wanting to give up isn’t always a sign you’re failing.

Often it’s just a sign that the easy energy has run out.

Now the work becomes something different.

Not excitement.

Commitment.

Why the feeling gets so strong

Our brains are built to conserve energy.

When something becomes difficult, the brain starts asking questions like:

Is this worth it?
Is there an easier option?
Would stopping feel better?

Those thoughts aren’t weakness.

They’re just the brain doing its job.

The problem is that the brain is very good at detecting discomfort, but not very good at predicting long-term reward.

So when the middle gets hard, the brain starts trying to escape.

The question that helps

When the urge to quit shows up, most people ask the wrong question.

They ask:

“Should I give up?”

But that question usually leads to panic thinking.

A better question is:

“What kind of tired am I?”

Sometimes we are:

• physically tired and need rest
• emotionally tired and need support
• mentally tired and need a break

But sometimes we’re just experiencing the normal discomfort of doing something that matters.

Learning the difference is important.

Because quitting something that matters often creates a different kind of pain later.

Regret.

What actually helps in those moments

When people push through the “giving up” phase, they rarely do it through sheer motivation.

Instead they do something much simpler.

They make the next step smaller.

Instead of finishing the project…

Work on it for 20 minutes.

Instead of fixing the whole relationship…

Start one honest conversation.

Instead of changing everything…

Change one small habit today.

Momentum doesn’t return through huge effort.

It returns through tiny forward movement.

One quiet truth

Most meaningful things in life pass through a phase where quitting feels reasonable.

Friendships.
Careers.
Creative projects.
Personal growth.

The feeling of wanting to give up doesn’t mean you chose the wrong path.

Sometimes it just means you’ve reached the point where the path becomes real.

And that’s the part most people don’t talk about.

How We Actually Make Friends

It’s not charisma. It’s something much simpler.

People often think friendship happens through some kind of natural social magic.

Like some people just have it.

They’re funny.
Outgoing.
Effortlessly social.

And the rest of us are left wondering how it works.

But most friendships don’t actually form that way.

They form through something much simpler.

Repeated small moments.

Most friendships begin with three ingredients.

1. Proximity

We become friends with people we simply see often.

Classmates.
Coworkers.
Neighbors.
People at the gym.
Parents standing next to us at a soccer game.

Psychologists call this the propinquity effect.

But really it just means this:

Friendship grows where life overlaps.

The more often two people share space, the more chances they have for small interactions.

And small interactions are where friendships start.

2. Low-stakes conversations

Friendships rarely begin with deep conversations.

They begin with things like:

“Cold today.”
“Did you see that game?”
“Your dog is really friendly.”

These small conversations might seem meaningless.

But they do something important.

They signal safety.

They tell the other person:

This is someone easy to talk to.

Over time those tiny conversations slowly become longer ones.

3. Gradual vulnerability

Eventually something shifts.

Someone shares a little more.

Maybe a small frustration.
A story about their weekend.
Something personal but not too personal.

The other person shares something back.

And little by little, trust grows.

Friendship doesn’t appear all at once.

It builds in layers.

The mistake people make

A lot of adults struggle with making friends for one simple reason.

They think friendship requires effortful social performance.

But friendship actually grows from something much quieter.

Showing up repeatedly.

Same coffee shop.
Same climbing gym.
Same running group.
Same neighborhood walk.

When people see each other often enough, familiarity slowly turns into connection.

And connection slowly turns into friendship.

The surprising truth

Most friendships don’t start with chemistry.

They start with consistency.

Which means if you’re hoping to make friends, the question isn’t:

“How do I become more interesting?”

The better question is:

“Where can I show up regularly around the same people?”

Because friendship usually grows from shared space and small conversations, not social brilliance.

And once you know that, making friends becomes much less mysterious.

Control vs. Influence

Why trying to control everything might be the thing making you anxious

There’s a quiet trap most of us fall into without noticing.

We start trying to control things that were never actually ours to control.

Other people’s reactions.
How quickly a problem resolves.
Whether someone understands us.
How an event turns out.
Whether our plans go exactly right.

The strange part is that the more we try to control those things, the more anxious we become.

Because deep down we know something our brains don’t want to admit:

Control is mostly an illusion.

Very little in life is truly under our control.

Weather.
Traffic.
Other people’s feelings.
How a conversation lands.
Whether someone changes their mind.

But there is something else available to us.

Something much quieter.

Influence.

Influence is different.

Influence says:

I can’t control the outcome…
but I can shape the conditions.

A teacher can’t control whether a student tries hard in class.

But they can create a room where trying feels safe.

A parent can’t control whether their child makes the perfect choice.

But they can influence the kind of person their child becomes.

A musician can’t control whether a crowd loves a song.

But they can influence the moment by showing up fully and playing it well.

Influence works slowly.
Control tries to work immediately.

That’s why control fuels anxiety.

When we believe we must control the outcome, every uncertainty feels dangerous.

But when we shift to influence, the pressure changes.

Instead of:

“I have to make this go perfectly.”

It becomes:

“What small thing can I do to move this in a better direction?”

Influence is lighter.

It leaves room for other people’s freedom.
It leaves room for mistakes.
It leaves room for life to unfold.

Ironically, people who stop trying to control everything often end up having more real impact.

Because people don’t respond well to control.

But they respond to presence, patience, and consistency.

And that’s where influence lives.

So the next time anxiety creeps in, it might be worth asking one simple question:

Am I trying to control this…

or

am I trying to influence it?

One of those will exhaust you.

The other one will set you free.