I don’t know about you, but I’m still trying to absorb what we witnessed this week.
There’s a particular kind of horror that comes from watching someone in the highest office openly ignore the rules, norms, and shared agreements meant to protect us all. It feels surreal. Disorienting. Like the ground has shifted beneath our feet and we’re left wondering what still holds.
Moments like this don’t stay in the headlines.
They land in the body.
In the nervous system.
In the quiet fear that asks, If this can happen, what does it mean for the rest of us?
And while this is not a time to look away, it’s also not a time to let ourselves be overtaken by despair.
This reflection is an invitation to stay awake and grounded. To remember who you are, what you value, and what remains steady inside you even when the world feels frightening and unstable. Not because it’s easy. But because it matters.
I am horrified by what is happening. The speed of it. The lawlessness. The cruelty. The sense that things we once believed were stable and protected are being ignored or dismantled in plain sight.
It feels dangerous.
It feels surreal.
It feels like corruption is no longer hidden, but normalized.
And yet, life goes on.

I wake up and make coffee. I answer emails. I see clients. I work out. I make dinner. I move through my days as if the world is sane.
That dissonance is deeply unsettling.
Part of me wants to stay informed. To read the news. To scroll. To understand what is happening. There’s a belief that if I know more, I might have some control. That awareness might somehow protect me.
And then another part of me just asks, How is this possible?
Laws are being ignored. Power is being seized. Cruelty is normalized. The message feels like nothing can stop this.
I feel it in my body. My nervous system tightens. I'm outraged. I don't sleep well. Anxiety hums beneath the surface.
And still, I go on with my life.
When I let myself fully think about it, it is horrifying. Democratic norms eroding. Innocent lives lost. People displaced and harmed. Suffering that feels endless and unjust.
There is a part of me that believes this will end. It must end. I hold onto that.
And at the same time, I’ve never been able to reconcile the inequities of the world. Why did I luck out? Why am I safe, fed, housed, and privileged when so many are not?
These are the thoughts I have to gently rein in. Because I cannot control everything. I can only control myself. How I think. How I respond. What I choose to do with the energy I have.

The other day, my five-year-old grandson came to play with me.
I was in a child’s world. We were making up stories. Lining up dominoes. Watching them fall. He was delighted. So was I.
For a while, I was in a place of imagination and play. A place of refuge.
And I remembered something important.
Play is medicine.
Presence is grounding.
Wonder still exists.
Even now.
When everything feels unhinged, we need anchors. Ways to stay sane without looking away. To stay present without collapsing.
This is not the time to abandon ourselves.
This is the time to bump up self-care. Not as an indulgence. Not as avoidance. But as protection for our nervous systems, so we can stay awake, compassionate, and capable.
Staying grounded is not disengaging.
Pausing is not giving up.
Caring for yourself is not ignoring what’s happening.
It’s how we remain human.
We don’t need to be fearful every second of the day. And we don’t get to pretend nothing is happening either. Because it is. And it will affect us.
Knowing what’s happening without drowning in it.
Caring deeply without burning out.
Choosing our responses from clarity instead of panic.
Yes, we must use our voices where we can... calling representatives, speaking up, demanding accountability, and standing up for democracy in ways that feel aligned.
5 CALLS is one of the easiest and most effective ways to contact Congress...and it truly matters.
Finding or joining a protest near you can also be powerful. Indivisible.org is a great place to start.
And at the same time, living in a constant state of outrage is devastating for our brains and nervous systems.
When the guardrails we thought existed are ignored, when nothing makes sense, when people we love justify cruelty or violence — that may be one of the hardest things to hold.
I don’t have neat answers. What I do know is this: isolation makes it worse. Silence makes it heavier. Grounding ourselves is not weakness. It is wisdom.

If everything feels like too much, here are a few gentle ways to come back to yourself.
This is not a checklist.
It’s a menu.
Let one thing be enough.
Do one small thing each day that brings you genuine joy.
Step outside and look up at the sky. Remember you are alive.
Move your body in a way that feels kind, not punishing.
Create something without worrying if it’s good.
Reach out to one person and ask how they’re really doing.
Sit quietly for five minutes and do absolutely nothing.
Remember that you are not alone. Many of us are trying to stay steady together.
Recently, I joined a small jamming group and found myself playing piano and ukulele with others. What surprised me wasn’t the music itself, but how grounding it was to make sound together. Imperfectly. Freely. Human to human.
That may not be music for you. It could be humming, singing in the car, dancing in the kitchen, or simply listening to a song that moves something inside you.
The point isn’t the instrument.
It’s expression.
It’s release.
It’s letting your nervous system soften.
If the world feels like it’s spinning right now, you’re not alone. And you’re not weak for feeling shaken.
What matters is that we don’t abandon ourselves in the process.
We need grounded women.
Women who can hold complexity.
Women who can feel grief and still choose care.
Women who know when to act, when to rest, and when to simply be present.
If you feel overwhelmed, my invitation is simple: pause before you rush. Breathe before you react. Come back to yourself before deciding what comes next.
In the coming days, I’ll be sharing a gentle reflection guide for women who feel overwhelmed and are carrying too much...a way to slow the spiral and begin from wisdom rather than pressure.
You are welcome here.
What is helping you stay grounded right now, even in small ways?
Read the latest on my blog for inspiration and tips to live your best life.