Text Message Reflection

I have scars. Some you can see. Some are inside. For a long time, I felt bad about them. I thought they meant I was weak. They reminded me of pain.

I tried to hide them. I acted strong when I wasn't. I smiled when I felt sad. I thought people would like me more if I seemed perfect.

But this was hard work. It made me tired.

Then I looked at my scars differently. I saw that where I was hurt, I became stronger. Like a knee that gets better after falling. The new skin is tougher.

My failures made me brave. Now I try new things more easily.

My heartbreaks taught me about my worth. Now I know what I deserve.

I learned that healing doesn't mean forgetting. It means growing stronger where you were hurt. Your scars show you survived.

Now my scars help me. They remind me I've been through hard times before. They make me strong for what comes next.

Life tried to hurt me. But it made me stronger instead. My scars are my protection. I wear them proudly. They tell my story of survival.

1. The Scars That Show You Your Own Grit

I failed at something important. I tried very hard. But it did not work. I felt broken. I could not sleep. I thought everyone would think I was a failure.

I felt so bad. I stayed alone. I did not want to talk to friends. I thought I would always be this sad.

But slowly, I began to change. I got out of bed each day. I started to fix things. I tried again, even though I was scared.

Then I felt different inside. I felt stronger. I learned that when I fall down, I can get back up.

That failure is now a memory. It left a mark on me. But I see that mark differently now. It is like a shield that protects me. When new problems come, I tell myself: "I have been through hard times. I can handle this."

That mark taught me something important. I am not defined by my failures. I am defined by what I do after I fail. It showed me I am strong. It showed me that broken things can heal. That mark did not break me—it made me tougher. Now I carry that grit with me every day.

2. The Scars That Draw Your Lines

There was a friend I trusted deeply. When they broke my trust, the pain was sharp and immediate. My first instinct was to retreat, to build a fortress around myself so no one could get close enough to hurt me again.

Time passed. The hurt got smaller. The pain healed but left a mark. This mark was not just about hurt. It became something useful. It became a rule for my heart.

That pain showed me what I will not accept. It showed me how I should be treated. The mark became a clear line. It tells me, "This is not good for me." It is not about anger. It is about being good to myself.

Other hurts left marks too. Each one taught me something. One person taught me to speak up. Another taught me my feelings matter.

I thought boundaries were walls to block people. Now I see they are like signs. They show me who is good for my heart. My scars help me see who really cares. They help me find people who will treat me well.

Now when I see my old scars, I feel thankful. Each scar is like a teacher. It says, "Remember what you learned." The people who hurt me taught me to protect my heart. They showed me how to make rules that keep me safe and happy. For this, I am grateful.

3. The Scars That Hold Your Kind of Power

I used to see all my broken parts as flaws, something to be concealed. I worked hard to present a perfect, unbroken image to the world.

But life breaks everyone. I've been broken by sadness. I've been broken by lost hopes. I thought I would never be okay.

Then I learned something new. Healing means building yourself again. Your broken pieces become part of you. Your cracks become beautiful.

Every scar taught me. Sadness taught me to enjoy happiness. Failure taught me to be kind to myself. Pain taught me about real strength.

These scars made me strong. Not loud strength. Quiet strength. The kind that knows how to survive. The kind that understands hurt.

Now I see my scars differently. They show my journey. They remind me I survived hard times. They tell me I can face tomorrow.

When I see others with scars, I feel we are the same. We understand each other. We know about getting back up.

So I don't hide my scars now. They show I have lived. They show I have loved. They show I didn't give up. My scars made me stronger and wiser. They are part of my story.

A New Way to See Your Skin

I used to see my life as a collection of wounds, each one a dark stain on who I was. I believed these marks were proof of my weaknesses, and I longed for a clean, perfect history, feeling shame for the messiness of my path.

Now I see differently. I understand those marks. My broken heart taught me to care for myself. My failures showed me I was strong. My sadness helped me see the good days better.

Now I know the truth. These marks don't mean I was broken. They mean I healed. They are like strong patches. They make me tougher where I was weak.

This isn't a map of damage. It's a story of getting through hard times. It shows I fell down and got back up. It shows I grew stronger each time.

Now I look at my skin with pride. Every line tells how I kept going. Every mark shows I was brave. This skin shows my real life - with hard times and good times.

Your skin is beautiful too. Don't wish it was someone else's. Learn to love your own. See your strength in every line. See your courage in every mark. This is your story. It is good just as it is.

  

The Plant on My Desk

I had a plant on my desk. I wanted this plant to be healthy and strong.

I gave it water. I gave it light. I did all the things I was supposed to do.

But the plant did not get better. It got weak. Its leaves turned yellow. It would not grow.

I thought it was my fault. I thought, "I am not good at this. I cannot even keep a plant alive."

Then my friend saw it. She told me, "It is not you. The pot is too small. The roots have no space. The plant cannot grow."

So, we put the plant in a bigger pot.

And then, something changed. The plant started to grow. It became green and strong. It was happy.

That is when I thought about my own life.

Sometimes, I feel just like that plant. I try hard. I work hard. But I feel stuck. I cannot move. I cannot grow.

I always think I am the problem.

But now I see. Sometimes, the problem is not you. The problem is what is around you.

Your "pot" might be too small.

1. The Weather of People

Think about the people you see every day. Notice how you feel after you've been with them.

I started paying attention to this.

I had one friend. After spending time with him, I often felt drained and down. My own good ideas started to feel foolish.

I have another friend. When I am with her, I feel lighter and more capable. My ideas seem to take flight.

It struck me that people are a kind of weather.

Some are like sunshine. They warm you and make everything feel possible.

Others are like a constant, gray overcast. They leave you feeling a little colder, a little darker, without you even realizing why.

This isn't always about cutting people out. It's first about just noticing the effect they have.

Ask yourself: "How do I feel when I walk away from this person?"

If you want to grow, you might find yourself naturally wanting to be around the sunny people more. You start to choose who gets your energy.

2. The Whisper of Your Space

Look at the room you are in.

For years, I believed my environment was irrelevant. I thought willpower was all that mattered.

I was wrong.

My old desk was a mess, buried in papers with my phone always within reach.

I’d sit down and tell myself, "Time to work." But I’d just shuffle papers, check my phone, and accomplish nothing. I blamed my own laziness.

Then, I cleared the desk. I put every non-essential item away and moved my phone to another room.

The next morning, I sat down and started working immediately. It was effortless.

That's when I learned it: your surroundings are always sending you quiet signals.

A chaotic kitchen makes it easier to grab junk food. A cluttered room makes it hard to start anything. A phone on your nightstand is an invitation to scroll.

If your book is tucked away on a shelf, you won't read it. If the healthy food is hard to reach, you won't eat it.

You are not the problem. Your space just isn't set up to help you succeed.

Take a look at your room. Your kitchen.

Ask: is this space designed to help me or to hinder me?

You don't need a picture-perfect space. Just one that works for you, not against you.

Put your book on the coffee table. Keep your running shoes by the door. Move the unhealthy snacks to a hard-to-reach cabinet.

Make the good things easy and the bad things difficult.

Change your space a little, and you will change along with it. You're not lazy. Your environment just hasn't been designed to be on your team.

3. The Unwritten Rules

We all live by rules in our head—rules we don't even see.

For years, I followed scripts I didn't know were there. I thought I was making my own choices, but I was just acting out a part written by others.

Let me share what I discovered.

My family operated on an unspoken rule: "Don't ask for much." So I never did. I assumed that was just how life worked.

My workplace had a culture of "Stay quiet." So I kept my ideas to myself, even when they were good.

My friend group had a rule of "Always be available." So I said yes to every plan, even when I was exhausted. I was running on empty but didn't know how to stop.

These rules were like invisible fences. They showed me exactly where the boundaries were and what not to attempt.

Then I started asking a simple question: "Says who?" Why do I do this? Who decided this was the rule?

That question changed everything.

Now I see these invisible rules everywhere. Rules that tell you to play small. Rules that warn you against change.

You don't have to rebel against all of them. You just need to see them first. Pick one rule and write it down. Look at it. Ask yourself: "Does this rule serve me, or does it just keep me small?"

Some rules are good. But many exist only to keep you in a familiar, confined space.

You get to choose which rules to keep. You can write new ones. But first, you have to see the old ones for what they are.

You're not truly stuck. You're just following a set of instructions you can't see. See them, and you can finally choose.

Finding a New Pot

Remember my plant? It was stuck. Then I moved it. It grew.

You might feel stuck too. It might not be you. It might be what's around you.

Think about three things:

·         The people you see

·         The place you live

·         The thoughts you have

Are these helping you grow? Or stopping you?

If you feel stuck, try this:

·         Find people who help you feel good

·         Make one small space clean and nice

·         Change one old thought for a new one

Start small. Just one thing.

You are like that plant. You need:

·         Good people (sunlight)

·         A good place (soil)

·         Good thoughts (water)

If these aren't right, you can't grow well.

But you can change this. You can find a better pot.

Be kind to yourself. You're not stuck forever. You just need the right place to grow.

Take one small step today. Find your new pot. You can do it.

  

A Shift in Perspective: From Fear of Mistakes to Freedom

I used to be very afraid of making mistakes.

When I made one, it felt like the end of the world. I thought it meant I was a failure. I believed I was not smart enough.

This fear controlled me. I only did easy things. I never tried new things. I thought I was keeping myself safe.

But I was wrong. I wasn't safe; I was stuck. My life felt very small.

Then, I found a new way of looking at things. It’s a very simple idea.

Here it is: Your mistakes don't define your future. They are just lessons.

They don't mean you're a bad person. They're simply information, showing you what to try differently next time.

Adopting this mindset changed everything for me. It gave me a sense of freedom and made me brave.

1. Seeing the Lesson, Not the Failure

I used to see every mistake as a punishment. My brain was like a mean judge, constantly telling me, "You are bad. You are wrong." And I believed it.

This hurt me. It made me feel sad and heavy.

Then I watched a baby learning to walk. The baby fell down, but didn't think, "I am a failure." The baby just got up. The fall was just information, teaching the baby how to find its balance.

I wanted to be like that baby.

I changed how I talk to myself. Now when I make a mistake, I don't say "I am bad." I ask one simple question: "What can I learn from this?"

Here is an example. I used to burn food. Before, I would think, "I'm a terrible cook." Now I tell myself, "The heat was too high. Next time I'll keep it lower."

This small shift made a huge difference, and I use it for bigger things too. If I have a problem at work, I don't assume I'm bad at my job. I ask, "What part went wrong? How can I fix it next time?"

The outcome itself hasn't changed. The burned food is still burned. But my reaction is different. I don't see a final verdict on who I am. I see a chance to learn. The mistake points me toward a better way.

2. Letting Go of the "Story"

I used to tell myself elaborate, bad stories. When something went wrong, my mind would spin a whole tale around it.

One small mistake would snowball into a dramatic story in my head.

For example, if I was late to meet a friend:

·         The fact was: I was late.

·         But my story was: "I am always late. I am a bad friend. My friend is angry. Nobody likes me."

The story is what made me feel terrible, not the simple fact of being late.

I learned to see the difference between facts and the stories I built on top of them.

A fact is just true. A story is what we tell ourselves about the fact.

Now when I make a mistake, I stop the story. I look only at the facts.

For being late, I say: "The fact is I left home late. Next time I will leave earlier."

That's all. No big story. No beating myself up.

I do this with work too. If I get feedback, I don't jump to "I am bad at my job." I look at the facts: "These are the specific things I need to change."

This approach has become my greatest strength. It makes you resilient. It cuts off the bad feelings at the source and helps you see the situation clearly.

When you let go of the story, you feel lighter. You can focus on what actually matters.

3. Learning from What Happens

I came to understand that mistakes are just clues for what to do next. But I needed a simple way to remember this in the moment.

So I started a easy habit. I ask myself three questions when something goes wrong.

1. First: "What actually happened?" I look for the plain facts, just what I saw or heard. Example: Instead of "I did bad," I say: "I talked too fast and forgot one of my main points."
2. Second: "What can I learn from it?" I look at my facts and find the lesson. Example: "Talking too fast means I was nervous. Forgetting a point means my notes weren't clear enough."
3. Third: "What will I do differently next time?" I make a small, practical plan. Example: "Next time, I will take a deep breath before I start and use bigger, clearer note cards."

This takes just a minute, but it helps so much. It stops the spiral of negative emotion and makes me curious instead of upset.

Now when I make a mistake, my first thought is: "What can this teach me?" My mistakes have become my teachers. And I keep getting better.

Final Thought: Your Past is a Lesson, Not a Life Sentence

Here is the most important thing I've learned: your past is just information, not a fixed plan for your life.

I used to think my past mistakes meant something permanent. If I failed once, I believed I was doomed to always fail. I felt stuck, as if my life was already decided.

But my perspective has shifted. Now I see each mistake as a single piece of information, like one dot on a page. One dot doesn't tell you where to put the next one.

For example, once I shared an idea and people didn't like it. Before, I would have thought: "I'm bad at sharing ideas. I'll never share again."

Now I think: "That specific idea didn't work. This is useful information. Next time I can try a different idea or find a better way to explain it."

This change has freed me. I finally understand that my past doesn't control me; it prepares me.

You are not your mistakes. You are the person who learned from them. Every misstep equips you for what comes next.

  

A Message for You

Life can get too loud. It happens without warning. One moment, I am okay. The next moment, my mind is full. It is full of things to do. It is full of things to remember. It is full of worries.

It feels like a storm. A storm in my head. I feel lost in the wind and rain. I cannot find my way. I have nothing to hold on to.

For years, this happened to me. When the storm came, I would fall. My worries would push me down. I felt I had no power. I thought this was just how life is.

But then I found one simple thing. It is not a secret. It is not hard to find. You have it with you right now. It is your breath.

I want to tell you my story. It is about how one breath, all by itself, can be an anchor. It can hold you safe in the storm.

The Fight That Never Works

When I felt bad, I used to fight it. I thought I had to be tough on myself.

I would tell myself, "Stop it. Just be better." I would try to push the sad or scared feelings away. My body would get stiff. My shoulders got tight. My hands would make fists.

I would stay very busy. I cleaned things that were already clean. I looked at my phone again and again. I tried to run from the feelings.

I thought if I fought hard enough, I would win.

But I never won.

The fight just made me tired. So tired. At the end, the bad feelings were still there. I was just more tired from fighting.

I finally saw the truth. I was trying to stop the rain by being angry at the sky. It doesn't work. You just end up wet and tired.

That fight never works. It only makes you tired. When I understood this, I knew I needed to find a new way.

The Day I Found My Anchor

I was so tired of fighting. One day, the storm came again. I felt the worry and tightness start. But I had no strength left. I was empty.

So I stopped fighting. I just stood still. I closed my eyes. I felt heavy and tired.

The only thing I could do was breathe. I took one slow breath in. I felt the air going in. I felt my chest rise.

Then I breathed out slowly. I let all the air out. I felt my shoulders drop. I felt my body relax.

Something happened then.

The storm in my head didn't go away. But it felt different. For a moment, I wasn't in the storm. I was just watching it. The breath made a safe space around me.

That breath became my anchor. It held me steady. I didn't have to fight anymore.

I started using this breath everywhere. In the car. At work. Before bed.

Sometimes it worked well. Sometimes my mind was still noisy. But even then, it helped a little.

I learned something important. The anchor was always inside me. I didn't need to find it somewhere else. I just needed to remember to breathe. My breath was always there, waiting to help me find calm.

A Simple Way to Practice

You might wonder how to do this. Let me tell you what I do. It is very simple.

First, I notice I feel bad. My shoulders get tight. My heart beats fast. I feel worried. This is my sign to stop.

I do not need a special place. I can do it anywhere.

If I am washing dishes, I stop. If I am sitting, I put my hands down. If I am standing, I feel my feet.

Then I take one breath. Just one.

I breathe in slow through my nose. I don't really count, just a slow, easy breath in.

I breathe out slow through my mouth. I let the air out slow, like a quiet sigh.

That is all. One breath in and out.

I do this many times a day. Before I talk to someone. After I work. When I wait for food to cook.

Some days it is easy. Some days it is hard. That is okay. I do not worry if I do it wrong.

This isn't another thing you have to do perfectly. It is just a small pause, a way to come back to yourself.

A Last Thought

We have talked about my story. I told you about my hard times. I told you how I found something that helps.

Remember this one thing: Peace is inside you. You already have it.

I looked for peace in many places. I thought it was in getting things done. I thought it was in going places. But that peace never stayed.

Then I found peace in my breath. It is always with me. It never leaves.

This is not hard to do. You do not need to learn special things. You just need to breathe.

Life is still not always easy. I still have hard days. But I feel stronger now. My breath helps me stand strong.

You have this same power. It is in you. You do not need to be perfect. Just try one breath.

As you go forward, remember: Your peace is in you. Your help is in your breath. You do not need to look far.

  

A Practical Guide to Taking Back Your Life from Anxiety

You know that feeling. It’s not a sudden panic that makes your heart race. That kind of fear is loud and obvious. No, this feeling is much quieter. It’s a low hum in the back of your mind. It’s a background noise that never really turns off. It’s a constant friend you never wanted.

It’s what you feel when you are in bed, completely tired, but your mind is wide awake. It’s busy running in circles with all the "what if" thoughts. What if I mess up? What if something bad happens? What if they don't like me? The thoughts just spin and spin, going nowhere.

For me, it shows up as tight shoulders when I read the news. For you, it might be a clenched jaw when you sit in silence. It’s that habit of checking your phone again, not for any reason, but because the quiet feels wrong. It’s that fuzzy feeling in your head that makes it hard to focus on a book or a movie. Your mind just won't settle down.

I have come to see this feeling as a coat. A very heavy, invisible coat made entirely of worry. It isn't a cozy winter coat. This one is different. It’s made from every little fear and every single doubt.

I put this coat on every day without even noticing.
It’s the very first thing I do. I think you might do it too. Maybe you are so used to the weight that you don't remember life without it. We wear this coat to work. We wear it to the store. We even wear it when we are out with friends, trying to have a good time.

We tell ourselves that no one can see it. We think we are hiding it just fine. But the weight changes us. It makes our shoulders slump. It makes our steps slower. It makes us feel tired all the time. It makes us snap at people we love, not because we are mean, but because we are just so tired from carrying the weight. It’s like walking through your whole day wearing a heavy backpack you can never take off.

So, if you have ever felt this weight—if you know that low hum of worry in your bones—then these words are for you. This is just you and me talking. We are going to look at this heavy coat together. We will talk about what it’s really made of. We will see how it changes the way we stand and move. And most of all, we are going to talk about how we can learn to take it off. Even if it’s just for a little while. Even if it’s just to take a deep breath without the pressure.

This is not about a magic trick to make all worry disappear. It’s about something simpler. It’s about understanding this weight we carry. It’s about learning to be kinder to ourselves. It’s for you, for me, for all of us.

The Different Kinds of Worry

So, let's talk about this heavy coat. Let's imagine we can really look at it. If we could hold it, what would we see? What is it actually made from? I don't think it's one big piece of cloth. I think it's made from different strings, all twisted together. Each string is a different kind of worry. When you know what the strings are, you can start to understand the coat.

The first string is a very strong one. I call it The "What If" String. This is all about the future. You might be doing the dishes, and this string starts to form. "What if I'm late for work tomorrow?" "What if I don't have enough money for my bills?" "What if something bad happens to someone I love?" Our brains are good at thinking ahead, but worry only thinks about the bad stuff. We don't imagine the meeting going fine; we imagine it going wrong. Every single one of these scary thoughts is another piece of string. And without noticing, you and I, we keep adding them to the coat, making it thicker and heavier.

The second string is rough and uncomfortable. This is The "I Wish I Hadn't" String. This one is all about the past. It is made from old memories that still bother us. That time you said something unkind and wish you could take it back. The chance you didn't take because you were too scared. I know this string well. It's the one that pops up when I'm trying to fall asleep, reminding me of my mistakes. We let these old regrets rub against us all day, making us feel bad about things we can't change. It's like a rock stuck in the pocket of your coat, always bumping against your leg.

The third string is the one that lines the inside of the coat, making it feel tight and hot. This is The "Everything Is My Job" String. This is when you feel responsible for how other people feel. You worry if your friend is sad. You feel stressed if your family member has a problem. You try to make everyone happy, and when they aren't, you feel like it's your fault. I have done this so many times. We take on other people's problems and sew them right into our coat. You end up carrying not just your own worries, but everyone else's too. It is the heaviest string of all.

When you twist these three strings together—the "what ifs," the "I wish I hadn'ts," and the "everything is my job"—you get a coat that feels like it was made just for you.
It fits your worries perfectly. And the biggest problem? After a while, you forget you put it on. You start to think the weight and the tiredness are just a normal part of life. You think the coat is you.

But I am here to tell you this, and we need to remember it: The coat is not you. It is just something you are wearing. And if you can put it on, you can also learn to take it off.

How the Worry Changes the Way You Stand

You might think, "It's just a little heavy. I can handle it. I am strong." And you are right. You are very strong for carrying this every day. But this coat of worry does more than just weigh you down. It actually changes the way you stand, the way you move, and the way you see the world. It changes your shape.

Think about wearing a heavy backpack for a long, long time. Your body would start to lean forward. Your shoulders would round. Your back would hurt. This coat does the same thing to you, but you can't see it happening.

Let me tell you how I feel it. I often catch myself with my shoulders all tight and high, up near my ears. I am not doing it on purpose. My body is just always getting ready for something bad to happen. It is always on guard. You might feel this in your own body. A tight neck. A sore back. A jaw that feels stiff. This is the coat changing how you stand. It is making your body tense.

The coat also changes where you look. When something is heavy on your shoulders, it is hard to lift your head. So you start looking at the ground. You see your shoes. You see the cracks in the sidewalk. You are so busy looking down that you miss the good stuff. You miss the sky. You miss the trees. You miss the smile from someone walking by. I have done this. I have been so busy carrying my worry that I walked right past a beautiful day. We end up living in a small, gray world that only goes a few feet in front of us.

And finally, the coat builds a wall between you and other people. A big, puffy coat makes it hard for someone to give you a real hug. This invisible worry coat does the same thing. You can be in a room with your family or friends, but you feel alone. The coat keeps you inside yourself.

You might get angry easily. You might feel like being quiet and alone. People might think you are upset with them. But you are not a mean person. You are just a tired person. You are using all your energy to carry the weight. I have snapped at people I love, not because they did anything wrong, but because my coat was just too heavy that day. We push people away without meaning to.

The saddest part is that we start to believe this is who we are.
We think, "I am a tense person." "I am a negative person." "I am just not friendly." We forget the person we were before the coat got so heavy. We forget that we used to stand up straight and laugh easily.

But I am here to tell you something important. This is not the real you. This is the shape of the coat. The real you is still underneath. And we can find that person again.

What the Coat Takes From You

Let's talk about what this coat really costs us. It's not free. We pay for it every single day. We pay with parts of our life that we should be enjoying. I want us to look at this bill together. Seeing the cost is the first step to deciding we don't want to pay anymore.

First, there is the Creativity Tax. Remember when you used to have fun ideas? Maybe you liked to draw, or cook new meals, or build things. I know I did. But the coat of worry makes that hard. Your mind gets too full of noise to hear the good ideas. It's like trying to listen to a quiet song with a loud TV on in the same room. You just can't hear the music.

So, you stop trying. You put away the sketchbook. You cook the same simple meals. You tell yourself you're not creative anymore. But that's not true. The worry is just blocking it. We pay a tax by losing the activities that make us feel alive and like ourselves. It's a high price to pay.

Next, there is the Connection Toll. Think about the last time you talked with a good friend. Were you really listening? Or was your mind somewhere else? I have done this. My friend is telling me a story, and I am nodding, but inside I am worrying about a problem at work. I am not really there.

This happens at home, too. You might be short-tempered with your family. You snap over a small thing. It's not because you are a bad person. It is because you are so tired from carrying the coat. You have no patience left. We pay a toll on our relationships. We push people away without meaning to. This can leave us feeling very alone, even when people are right beside us.

Finally, there is the Joy Surcharge. This is the sneakiest cost. The coat steals little happy moments from you. That first warm sip of coffee in the morning? You don't even taste it because you're already worrying about the day. A walk outside on a nice day? You don't feel the sun because you're thinking about your problems.

I have missed so many of these small joys. The coat puts a gray filter over everything. It makes you pay extra to feel happy. You have to fight through the worry just to enjoy a simple moment. We end up feeling like nothing is fun anymore, and life feels like a chore.

When you add it all up, the cost is too high.
We are paying with our hobbies, our relationships, and our happiness. This is not the life you want. This is not the life I want. Seeing this cost clearly helps us make a choice. We can decide that we are done paying. We can start to take the coat off.

When You Try to Rip it Off

When the coat gets too heavy, we just want it off. Right now. Our first idea is to fight it. We try to rip it off our shoulders and tear it apart. I have done this. You have probably done this, too. We try the quick and easy ways to feel better. But these ways don't really work. Let's talk about why.

First, there is Distraction. This is when we try to forget we are wearing the coat. You might scroll on your phone for hours. You might watch TV show after TV show. You might clean the house when it is already clean. We try to keep our brains so busy that they can't feel the weight.

But here is what happens. The moment you stop, the coat is still there. You put your phone down, and the quiet feels even louder. The show ends, and the worry comes back. I have done this so many times. We don't make the coat lighter by ignoring it. We just get more tired from running.

Next, there is Numbing. This is when we try not to feel the weight at all. You might have an extra drink in the evening to "relax." You might eat a whole bag of chips even when you are not hungry. You are just trying to feel something else for a little while. I get it. I have tried to numb the feeling, too.

But numbing is like putting a blanket over a fire alarm. It doesn't stop the problem. It just muffles the sound. And the worst part is, you can't just numb the bad feelings. You numb the good ones, too. You numb joy and peace. The coat is still there, and now you feel worse because you are tired and maybe disappointed in yourself.

Finally, there is telling ourselves "just be happy." This is when we try to cover the coat with a happy face. We tell ourselves, "Just be happy!" "Stop worrying!" We pretend everything is fine when it is not.

Telling yourself "don't worry" is like telling yourself "don't think about a red car." What is the first thing you think of? A red car. Fighting the worry just makes it stronger. It adds a new layer of frustration to the coat because we feel like we failed at being happy.

We have all tried these things.
I have. You have. We have. And it's okay. We were just trying to feel better. But now we know that fighting and tearing don't work. This is actually good news. It means we can stop wasting our energy. We can stop fighting ourselves. Now, we can learn a kinder, gentler way to help ourselves.

Taking it Apart, One String at a Time

So, if we can't fight the coat off, what can we do? We learn to take it apart slowly. This is not a race. It is a gentle, slow process. We learn to unweave the coat, one piece of string at a time. I want to share some simple ways we can do this together. These are things that have helped me, and I think they can help you, too.

The first step is to Name the Thread. When you feel the worry starting, just name it. Say what it is. You can say it in your head.

For example, if you are worrying about next week, say: "This is a 'What-If' thread." If you are thinking about an old mistake, say: "This is a 'Past Regret' thread."

I do this all the time. It is a very small thing, but it does a very big job. It creates a little space between you and the worry. You are not the worry. You are the person noticing the worry. This small step helps us start to loosen the first stitch.

The second step is to Come Back to Now. Worry is about the future. Regret is about the past. But your power is right here, right now. When you feel lost in worry, you can use your senses to come back. This is called "grounding."

Here is how you do it. Stop. Take one breath. Then:

Look around and name 5 things you can see. (A lamp, a coffee cup, a pen, your hand, a mark on the wall.)

Notice 4 things you can feel. (Your feet on the floor, your shirt on your skin, the air on your face, the chair you are sitting on.)

Listen for 3 things you can hear. (A fan, a bird, a car outside.)

Find 2 things you can smell. (Your soap, the air in the room.)

Notice 1 thing you can taste. (The taste in your mouth, or take a sip of water.)

This seems simple, but it works. It pulls your mind out of the scary story in your head and back to the real world. We are reminding ourselves that in this moment, we are safe.

The third step is a little different. Give Your Worry a Time Out. Pick a time each day to do all your worrying. Just 15 minutes. Let's say you pick 4:00 PM.

Now, when a worry comes into your head at 10 in the morning, you don't have to fight it. Just say to it, "Not now. I will worry about you at 4:00." Then, write it down on a piece of paper.

When 4:00 PM comes, you sit down with your list and you worry. Think about all those things for your 15 minutes. You will probably find something funny happens. The worries often seem smaller and less powerful. I was surprised by this. We are teaching our brain that it doesn't have to worry all day long.

The last step is to Put Down What Isn't Yours. A lot of the weight we carry is not even our own worry. It is other people's problems. We need to learn a kind but firm sentence: "I am not responsible for how other people feel."

You are responsible for being a good person. You are not responsible for another adult's happiness. When you feel yourself carrying someone else's bad mood, imagine you are putting down a heavy rock. You are not being mean. You are being smart. You are saving your strength. I work on this every single day. Every time we put down a rock that isn't ours, our coat gets much, much lighter.

Learning to Live a Little Lighter

We have reached the end of our talk. But this is really a beginning for you and me. Let's be clear about one thing. The goal is not to never worry. That is not possible. Worry is a normal feeling. The goal is to stop making that worry into a heavy coat you never take off.

This is a practice. Some days will be good. On those days, you will feel light and free. You will remember these tools and use them easily. I have these days too, and they feel wonderful.

But other days will be hard. The coat will feel heavy again. The old worries will come back. When this happens, I want you to know something very important. This does not mean you have failed. It just means you are human. It happens to me. It happens to all of us. We are all learning together.

The most important thing I have learned is this: you are in charge. You are the one who can change this. You can't always stop the worry from coming, but you can choose what to do with it. You can choose to notice it. You can choose to breathe. You can choose to put down a problem that is not yours.

Every time you make one of these small choices, you are making your coat lighter. You are pulling out one piece of heavy thread. One piece at a time.

Imagine how that will feel. Imagine walking outside and actually feeling the sun on your skin, with no thick coat in the way. Imagine standing up straight and looking at the sky, not just at the ground. Imagine laughing with a friend and feeling that laugh all the way through you, with nothing blocking the joy.

This can be your life.
It is not a dream. It is a choice you make again and again.

So next time you feel the weight, just pause. Take one breath. Remember that you are not your worry. You are the person who is learning to live without the heavy coat.

 

  

Discover the Power of One Small Question to Quiet the Noise and Find Your Way.

You are in the grocery store. You stand in front of a wall of pasta sauces. So many jars. So many choices. Marinara? Arrabbiata? Something with a fancy name? Ten minutes ago, you just needed sauce. Now, it feels like a test you might fail. Your brain starts to spin. What if I pick the wrong one? What if I don’t like it? What does my choice say about me? A simple task suddenly feels heavy and confusing.

If you know this feeling, you are not the only one. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve felt this way.

Our world is saturated with choices. From the moment we wake up, we’re making them. What should we watch tonight? What should we eat? What job should we try for? What should we post online? It never seems to end. This endless stream of options can freeze us solid. We get stuck, unable to move.

We become obsessed with finding the perfect big plan for our lives—the perfect job, the perfect home, the perfect future. We want everything to be just right. But focusing so hard on the big picture can be terrifying. We get so worried about making a bad move that we decide to make no move at all. We stand still, paralyzed.

But what if the secret to a good life isn't a perfect big plan? What if it’s something much simpler?

What if all you need to do is figure out the Next Right Thing?

This idea has been a lifeline for me lately. I’m not talking about those huge, scary decisions that change your life in one second. I mean the small choices we make all the time. The choice to be kind. The choice to try. The choice to take one small step. These small choices are like threads. Day by day, they weave together to create the story of your life.

1. When the "Big Picture" Becomes a Heavy Weight

We are all told to dream big. I heard it when I was young, and I’m sure you did too. People say, “Shoot for the stars!” They tell us to have a grand plan for our whole lives, to imagine a perfect future. We picture a dream job, a dream home, a dream life. It sounds like wonderful advice. Having a dream feels good.

But I’ve found a big problem with this, and maybe you have too. That big picture of a perfect life can become a heavy burden. It starts to feel like a bag of rocks we have to carry everywhere. When we only stare at that huge, faraway goal, the small steps we need to take today seem impossibly hard. The path in front of us looks scary and long. We’re afraid to even start walking.

Let me share an example I think you’ll get. Let’s say you decide, “I want to write a book.” It’s a wonderful goal! A beautiful dream. But then, you sit down to write. You open your computer and see a blank screen. Suddenly, the dream feels enormous. It feels scary.

That’s when the voice in my head starts talking. I have this voice, and I’d bet you have one too. It says things like, “This isn’t good enough. This will never be a real book. You’re not a real writer. You should just stop now.” That voice is loud. The distance between you now and you as a published writer feels like trying to jump across a wide river. It feels impossible.

So what do you do? I’ll tell you what I’ve done. You close the computer. You get up and you walk away. You decide to try again tomorrow, or maybe next week. The pressure to be perfect, to create that big picture right now, is so strong that it stops you from doing anything at all.

We get so worried about the finish line that we forget we are allowed to take a single step.

This is how the “Big Picture” fails us. It stops being a happy dream and becomes a scary monster. We get so worried about the finish line that we forget we are allowed to take a single step. We think we need to see the whole road before we start the car, but that’s not how any journey begins.

The truth is, every writer you admire started right where you are. They didn’t write a book in one day. They wrote one sentence. Then they wrote another one. Some days, the sentences were terrible. But they kept writing. They weren’t thinking about the last chapter of the book. They were only thinking about the very next sentence.

We need to learn this lesson, you and I. Our job isn’t to build the whole house today. Our job is to lay one brick. And to lay that brick as well as we can. When we think this way, the heavy weight lifts from our shoulders. The fear starts to fade. We can finally breathe. And we can finally begin.

2. Finding Your Way by Taking a Smaller Step

So, we know the problem. The big picture is too heavy. It makes us feel stuck. Now, I want to share how we can get unstuck. It’s the only way I know to start moving again.

The secret is to make everything smaller.

Right now, your goal might feel like a giant mountain. Looking at the top makes you tired before you even take a step. You feel like you have to climb the whole thing at once. This is what freezes us.

But what if you didn’t have to look at the top? What if you only had to look at the ground right in front of your feet?

This is what I mean by shrinking your world. We turn off the huge, scary spotlight that shows us the entire mountain. We turn on a small, friendly flashlight that only shows us the next step. All you need to see is where to put your foot next. That’s it.

How do we actually do this? We change the question we ask ourselves.

We stop asking the big, scary questions like:-

“How will I ever get a better job?”

“How can I get in shape?”

“How do I fix my entire life?”

These questions have no simple answer. They’re too big. They make us want to give up.

Instead, we ask one very small, very kind question:-

“What is the next right thing I can do?”

Let’s sit with those words for a second.

“Next” means it’s the very first thing. Not the second thing. Not the thing for tomorrow. The very next action.

“Right” doesn’t mean perfect. It just means it’s a good thing. A small, positive step.

“Thing” means one single action. One task. Not two. Not a list. Just one thing.

Let me give you an example from my life.

Imagine you want to write a book. The big question is, “How do I write a whole book?” That question is a monster. It will stop you every time.

So, you shrink the universe. You ask, “What is the next right thing?”

The answer is never “Write Chapter One.” That’s still too big. The real answer is much smaller. It’s something you can do in one minute.

The next right thing is: “I will open my notebook.”

Or, “I will write one single sentence.”

Or, “I will just write down the name of my main character.”

Do you see? The pressure is gone. You’re not building a whole house. You’re just picking up one nail. Anyone can pick up one nail.

This works for everything.

Your house is messy. The big picture is “I have to clean everything.” That feels horrible. It makes you want to sit down and do nothing.

So, shrink the universe. Ask, “What is the next right thing?”

Maybe the answer is: “I will put this one plate in the dishwasher.”

That’s all. Just one plate. You’re not cleaning the whole kitchen. You’re just moving one plate. After that, you can ask again. “What is the next right thing?” Maybe it is, “I will put this shirt in the hamper.” That’s how you clean a whole room—one tiny piece at a time.

This works for your feelings, too. You feel sad or worried. The big picture is “I need to be happy.” That’s too vague. It doesn’t work.

So, you ask, “What is the next right thing for me right now?”

The answer might be: “I will drink a glass of water.”

Or, “I will take five deep breaths.”

Or, “I will step outside for one minute of fresh air.”

These aren’t giant solutions. They’re small acts of kindness for yourself. They are the next right thing.

This is our tool. This is how we fight the feeling of being stuck. When the world feels too big and you feel too small, I want you to pause. Take one calm breath. And then ask yourself that small, powerful question:

“What is the next right thing?”

Find that one, small, doable action. And then go do it. Don’t think about step two or step ten. Just complete step one. That’s how we move forward. That’s how we build a life—not with one giant leap, but with one small, right step after another.

3. The Quiet Pause and the Whisper of Your Gut

We have a good question now: “What is the next right thing?” But sometimes, you can’t hear the answer. Your mind is too busy. It’s too loud in there. Maybe you had a bad day at work. Maybe you had an argument with someone you love. In these moments, you feel upset or angry or scared. Your heart beats fast. Your thoughts race. It feels impossible to find a good answer.

So, what can we do? We need to create a quiet space. We need to learn how to pause.

A pause isn’t the same as quitting. It’s not about giving up. It’s something different. A pause is a small, quiet moment that you create for yourself on purpose. It’s the space between something happening and what you do next.

Think of it like this. You’re about to send a text message when you’re very angry. Your first feeling is to type the angriest words and press “send.” We’ve all been there. I know I have. That first feeling is your reaction. It’s fast and hot.

The pause is what you do right after that feeling, but before you actually type anything. It’s when you stop. You put the phone down. You walk away for one minute. You create a small gap in time.

In that gap, you can find your answer.

So, how do we actually pause? It’s very simple. You don’t need to be a monk or a yoga expert. You just need to remember three small steps.

First, stop what you’re doing. If you’re walking, stop walking. If you’re talking, stop talking. Just be still for a second.

Second, take one slow breath. Just one. Breathe in through your nose. Feel the air fill your lungs. Then breathe out through your mouth. Feel your shoulders relax a little.

Third, ask yourself the question: “What is the next right thing?” But this time, ask it quietly, inside your own mind.

When you do this, you’re not listening to the loud, angry voice in your head. You’re listening for a much quieter voice. I think of this quiet voice as my “gut feeling.” It’s that sensation in your stomach that knows what is truly right for you. It’s your inner wisdom.

Your gut feeling doesn’t shout. It whispers. It might tell you something like:

“Just be quiet for now.”

“Go get a glass of water.”

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Wait until tomorrow.”

These aren’t exciting, dramatic answers. They’re calm and simple. They are almost always the next right thing.

Your gut feeling doesn’t shout. It whispers.

I remember one day, I was incredibly stressed about a problem at work. I couldn’t find a solution. I was pacing around my room, my mind racing in circles. I felt more and more frustrated.

Then, I remembered to pause. I stopped pacing. I sat on the edge of my bed. I took one deep, slow breath. In the quiet that followed, I asked myself, “What is the next right thing?”

The answer that popped into my head had nothing to do with work. My gut feeling said, “You are tired. The next right thing is to rest for ten minutes.”

So, I lay down and closed my eyes. I didn’t even sleep. I just rested. When I got up, my mind was clearer. The problem didn’t seem so big anymore, and I found a solution quickly. The pause showed me what I really needed.

We can all do this. You can do this. The next time you feel a strong, upsetting emotion—like anger, or worry, or fear—I want you to try it. Just pause. Stop for a moment. Take one calm breath. And listen for that quiet voice inside you.

It might feel strange at first, but I promise it gets easier. Your gut feeling is your friend. It’s there to guide you. Our job is to get quiet enough to hear it.

4. The Freedom of "Done" Over "Perfect"

Now we come to a very important idea. It’s one of the biggest reasons we get stuck. It’s the idea that everything we do must be perfect.

I’ve struggled with this my whole life. Maybe you have too. We want to do things the right way. We want to do them the best way. This is called perfectionism. It sounds like a good thing, like we have high standards. But I’ve learned that it’s often just another way our fear tricks us.

Perfectionism is that little voice in your head that says, “If you can’t do it perfectly, don’t do it at all.” It tells you that a small mistake is a total failure. It makes you stare at a blank page because you’re afraid to write a sentence that isn’t brilliant.

But here’s the truth I want you to know: Perfect doesn’t exist. It’s a story we tell ourselves. Think about anyone you admire—a great cook, a talented artist, a successful business person. I promise you, their first try wasn’t perfect. They made mistakes. They learned. They kept going.

For you and me, the goal isn’t a perfect step. The goal is to take the step. The goal is to move forward.

Let me give you an example. Imagine you want to start running. The perfect plan might be to run five miles, five days a week. But that’s hard! It’s scary. So, what happens? You think, “I can’t do that perfectly, so I won’t do it at all.”

But what is the next right thing? It doesn’t have to be perfect. It could be to put on your shoes and walk to the end of your street and back. That’s not a perfect run. But it is a done walk. And a done walk is a thousand times better than a perfect run that only exists in your imagination.

Let’s think about another example. You need to send an important email. You want it to be perfect. You write one sentence. You delete it. You write another one. You spend one hour on two sentences. The pressure feels huge.

What if you changed the goal? What if the goal wasn’t a “perfect” email, but a “clear and kind” email? You could write it in five minutes and press “send.” The job would be done. You would feel relief. You could move on with your day.

This is the freedom we can give ourselves. We can decide that “done” is better than “perfect.”

Think of it like sailing a boat. You’re trying to get to an island. You can’t just point the boat perfectly and go straight. The wind will push you. The waves will move you. So, you adjust. You turn the wheel a little left. Then you turn it a little right. You make many small corrections.

You aren’t making perfect moves. You’re making done moves. And all those small, done moves get you to the island.

Your life is like that boat. Your “next right thing” is one of those small turns of the wheel. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to help you move in the right direction. You can always adjust later.

So, the next time you’re about to do something, and that voice of perfectionism starts to speak, I want you to remember our new rule. You can even say it to yourself.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be done.”

Let’s choose to be people who get things done.

Let’s choose to be people who get things done. Let’s celebrate our small, finished tasks. A good life isn’t built on perfect actions. It’s built on many, many small actions that you actually completed. That’s how we move forward. That’s how we make progress. One done thing at a time.

5. The Garden You Grow With Every Small Choice

So now we come to the biggest question. How do these small steps really help us? How can choosing to do one tiny thing actually change a whole life?

I want you to understand this clearly. This isn’t just a trick for getting through a hard day. This is the real, honest way we build a good life. A happy life. A life we’re proud of.

Think about how a garden grows. You don’t plant a seed one day and see a flower the next. You have to water it a little bit, every day. Some days you might pull a weed. Some days you just check on it. You do small things again and again. And then one day, you look up and see a beautiful, blooming garden.

Your life is like that garden. Every “next right thing” you do is like giving your garden a little bit of water.

Let me show you what I mean. Let’s look at different parts of our lives.

Think about your health. The big goal is “I want to be healthy and strong.” That’s the whole garden. But how do you get there? You don’t run a marathon on your first day. You start with the next right thing. You choose an apple instead of a cookie. You park your car a little farther away from the store to walk a few extra steps. You go to bed fifteen minutes earlier. These are tiny drops of water for your health garden. They seem small, but over time, they help you grow stronger.

Now, think about your work or your hobbies. The big goal might be “I want to be good at my job” or “I want to learn to play the guitar.” That’s a big, beautiful garden you imagine. But you build it with small actions. You take five minutes to organize your desk so you can think clearly. You practice one simple chord on the guitar for ten minutes. You send one email you’ve been avoiding. Each of these is a small, important seed you’re planting. You’re building your skills, one tiny piece at a time.

What about the people in your life? Your family and your friends. The big goal is “I want to have good relationships.” How do we build that? We build it with small moments of kindness. We build it by listening when someone is talking, instead of looking at our phone. We build it by saying “thank you” or “I’m sorry” when it matters. We build it by giving a hug for no reason. These small acts are like sunshine for your relationship garden. They help love grow.

We are all building our lives every single day, whether we know it or not. The choices we make are the bricks we use. When we choose the next right thing, we are choosing to build a strong and beautiful house for ourselves.

You won’t always choose the perfect brick. I know I don’t. Sometimes you’ll have a bad day and drop a brick. That’s okay. That’s being human. The wonderful thing is that you can always choose again. Your very next choice can be a good one. You can always pick up a new brick and start again.

So, I want you to look at your life right now. Don’t look at the whole big picture. That’s too scary. Just look at today. What is one small, good thing you can do for your health garden? What is one small, good thing you can do for your work garden? What is one small, good thing you can do for your relationship garden?

Your next right thing might be very simple. Maybe it’s to drink a glass of water. Maybe it’s to finally pay that one bill. Maybe it’s to call your mom just to say hello.

Whatever it is, it matters. That one small action is important. It is how you build your future. It is how you build a life you love.

You are the builder of your life.

You are the builder of your life. And you can build something wonderful, one next right thing at a time.

Your Journey Forward Starts With a Single Question

We’ve come to the end of our talk. But I hope this is really just the start for you. We started with that feeling of being stuck in front of too many choices. We ended with a way to build a good life, one small step at a time.

This idea is simple. But using it can change everything. I know I need to remember it, and I think you might need it too. Life gets busy. Problems feel big. We forget that we have this simple tool to help us.

That tool is one question: “What is the next right thing?”

I want you to carry this question with you. Take it into your tomorrow. Think about when you might use it.

Picture this: You wake up and feel worried about the day. The feeling is heavy. Instead of giving in to it, you pause. You ask yourself the question. The answer might be small. “Get up and stretch.” “Drink a glass of water.” “Make the bed.” You do that one thing. You’ve started your day with a small win.

Picture this: You see a messy kitchen. It feels like too much work. You ask the question. The next right thing isn’t to clean everything. It’s to “wash one cup” or “put one spoon in the dishwasher.” You do it. The mess is a little smaller. You feel a little better.

Picture this: You are about to have a hard talk with someone. Your heart beats fast. You pause. You ask the question. The next right thing might be to “listen first” or to “say one kind thing.” You choose understanding over anger.

This question is your helper. It is your guide. It brings you back to yourself when life feels confusing.

We don’t need to know all the answers right now. We don’t need to see the whole future. We just need to trust this one question. Every time you use it, you tell yourself: “I can do this. I can move forward.”

So now, as you finish reading, I’m not asking you to change your whole life today. I’m just asking you to try this one thing. The next time you feel stuck or unsure, I want you to remember this. Remember that we are all trying this together.

Stop. Take one breath. And ask yourself with a kind heart:

“What is the next right thing?”

Listen for the quiet answer inside you. Then, go and do that one thing.

Your whole journey ahead is built on answers to this one, simple question.

Your whole journey ahead is built on answers to this one, simple question. You can do this. We can do this. Just one next right thing at a time.