If you’re overwhelmed, restless, or stuck in a fog with no clear reason why—this post is for you. Here’s how I gently find my way back to calm.

Last week, I could not focus for the life of me. I scrolled, I stared into my fridge even when I wasn’t hungry, I walked on my walking pad and stared at my computer screen. Cycle, rinse, repeat, yet this unsettled feeling in my chest and stomach, and this weird shaky feeling that you couldn’t see but I could feel would NOT go away.

But, when I looked around at my life, everything seemed fine. Work was stable. Family was okay. My health… I mean I’m not doing marathons but I go to pilates and take my blood pressure medication and I don’t eat cheese nearly half as much as I would like to, so I’d say it’s pretty decent. No drama, no major crisis. And yet, something felt off.

If you’ve ever been in that place, where nothing seems technically wrong but your body is still on edge, you’re not alone.

That feeling doesn’t come out of nowhere. A lot of people are feeling this strange, restless fog right now, and there are some good reasons for it:

We’re seeing big changes in the world, but we don’t feel like we can do anything about them. Climate. AI. Jobs. Politics. It’s a lot. And even if you care deeply, it can feel like your actions barely move the needle.
There’s no clear path forward. Older generations had templates—go to school, get a job, buy a house. Now there’s more freedom, but fewer maps. Should I move to Thailand? Do I want kids? Do I start a band? The possibilities can feel exciting but also paralyzing.
Life costs more, and we're all doing more just to get by. Financial stress burns up mental bandwidth. You want to dream, plan, give back—but with inflation, the stock market, etc etc, your brain is struggling to keep up with basic survival.

We're holding conflicting realities all the time. We see images on the TV of war, oppression, suffering, and we want to help others… but we feel some days that we’re barely able to take care of ourselves. That tension—between compassion and exhaustion—can quietly wear you down.

Why uncertainty feels so intense

Your brain is wired to keep you safe. It’s always scanning your environment for threats, and when it doesn’t have a clear picture of what’s going on, it starts to panic a little.

At the center of this response is a part of your brain called the amygdala. It's like a smoke alarm for your nervous system. It helps you react quickly to danger, which is great when there’s an actual emergency. But it can't always tell the difference between real danger and just not knowing what's coming next.

So if the future is uncertain, or your plans feel shaky, your amygdala fires up. It sends out alerts like, “Something’s wrong! Figure it out now!” And that creates the very real physical and mental symptoms you might be feeling:

Overthinking and spinning through the same questions over and over
Avoiding decisions completely, because choosing feels like a risk
Numbing out with distractions, food, social media, or Netflix
Feeling tension in your shoulders, jaw, or chest
Trying to control every little thing in your life just to feel stable

You’re not weak or broken for feeling this way. Your brain is just trying to keep you safe. The problem is that in modern life, the “danger” isn’t always something you can solve quickly. And that’s where some gentler tools come in.

What I do when I feel lost

These aren’t big, dramatic shifts. They’re simple practices that help me return to a steadier place when I feel off. Each one is about reconnecting with something solid—your body, your breath, your truth—so you can find a sense of calm, even when life feels anything but.

1. I zoom in until it feels manageable

When I start asking questions like “What am I doing with my life?” or “Where is this all going?”, I know I’ve zoomed out too far. The big picture feels too overwhelming, so I bring my focus in tight.

Instead of planning my year, I ask, What would help in the next 15 minutes?

That could be a glass of cold water. A short walk around the block. A favorite playlist that helps me slow down. Lighting a candle and sitting in silence for two songs.

When you’re overwhelmed, your nervous system doesn’t need a master plan. It just needs a moment that feels manageable. And often, tending to that one moment helps the next one feel a little clearer too.

2. I get back into my body

When I spend too long in my head—analyzing, planning, worrying—I start to lose touch with my intuition. My worries become louder than my logical thinking.

So I intentionally drop back into my body. That might mean:

Placing both feet flat on the floor and feeling the ground
Drinking water
Putting one hand on my chest and one on my belly, just to notice my breath
Stretching slowly, even if it’s just reaching overhead and rolling my shoulders
Lying down on the floor with no agenda, letting my body rest without needing to “do” anything

These practices send a subtle message to my brain: You’re here. You’re safe. You don’t have to fix it all right now.

And something I’ve come to understand: once my body feels steadier, my thoughts follow.

3. I cut down the noise

When life feels loud, I don’t try to take in more. I actually do the opposite.

I log off social media. I mute group chats. I pause podcasts. I limit how much news I read.

Not because I don’t care about what’s happening—but because overstimulation makes it impossible to hear my own voice. And if I want clarity, I have to protect space for it.

Try giving yourself 24 hours of less. Less input. Less commentary. Less comparison. Let your nervous system reset. You’ll be surprised how quickly your own wisdom comes back online when the external noise turns down.

4. I name what’s true right now

When everything feels uncertain, I find it helpful to name a few small, solid truths. These aren’t grand affirmations. They’re simple observations that ground me in the present.

For example:

I had coffee this morning.
I am sitting on my couch.
I helped a friend this week.
My body is breathing, even if it feels tight.
I want to keep showing up, even when it’s hard.

These won’t miraculously make you feel better, but what they can do is help you feel present. Naming what’s true, even quietly or imperfectly, helps your brain and body land back in the present moment. And that’s where your strength actually lives—not in the future you haven’t figured out yet.

5. I let joy interrupt

Uncertainty doesn’t have to cancel joy. You don’t have to earn delight by first solving everything.

When the weight of the unknown feels heavy, I look for ways to let tiny joys interrupt me:

Laughing at a ridiculous meme someone sent
Putting on a song I loved in high school and dancing to it first thing in the morning
Pulling out some pens or markers and doodling or drawing
Letting all the dogs (and sometimes well behaved children) I see bless me with their perfect joy

These aren’t just distractions. They are reminders that life is still happening. That beauty and humor and comfort are still available. And that I’m allowed to feel more than one thing at once.

If you’re in a foggy season right now—unsure of what’s next, unsure of who you are in this moment—I want to say this gently but clearly:

You are not behind.
You are not broken.
And you don’t have to have it all figured out to take care of yourself well.

No one has all the answers. But you do have access to your breath, your body, your present moment. Start there.

With love,
Therese

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Feeling lost lately? Read this.