I’m writing this instead of sleeping. After watching two episodes of The Last of Us, my mind is buzzing with dread rather than drifting into rest. Have you experienced this? Have you been waking up feeling like you're being peeled out of a dream, wondering what the point of it all is? And how, in the midst of everything, do you create?
I’ll be real: I struggled this past week. Anxiety, overwhelm, and a quiet grief kept bubbling up. I was hard on myself for not juggling work and posting regularly. I love sharing thoughts and advice here on Substack, but I’m not a superhuman multitasker, none of us are. Still, I kept trying to push through, ignoring my feelings, which only made them grow louder.
So how do we cope when our inner and outer skies are speckled with storm clouds?
Years ago, I taught poetry to incarcerated youth. One student wrote, “Electricity running through my body. Slipping-mind soaring through the sky. Endless thunder through the night. The storm is me.” Although I have be blessed to never be locked in a cage, I felt his words. I felt empathy. And remember poetry isn’t just about the finished piece—it’s the process. That process has guided me through tough times, and I want to share three tools that help me navigate the chaos:
1. Compassion
I talk about compassion a lot because it’s the antidote to shame. Shame is a sneaky stalker. It lingers, whispering reminders of past mistakes, making us feel like we’re never enough. But shame isn’t evil—it’s just a signal. It exists to help guide our moral compass. Sadly, too often, shame is used to control us or make us blame ourselves instead of harmful systems of oppression.
When I notice shame creeping into my psyche, like receiving a dozen missed calls from an unknown number, I interrupt the feeling. I consciously choose compassion instead. Compassion tells me I’m human, and that’s enough. It reminds me I’m made of water and meant to flow, not be rigid. Compassion is like that kind teacher who saw you when you felt invisible in middle school—the teacher who handed you a life changing book or taught you a theory that gave you purpose. That type of love is still available, even now. Especially now. But you have to offer it to yourself.
2. Curiosity
Revolutionaries say “question everything,” and they’re onto something. When you feel dread, turn it into a question: Where is this coming from? What do I need right now?
Recently, my curiosity led me to explore my own neurodivergence. I’ve been diagnosed with dyslexia since 4th grade, and while I’ve often appeared “high-functioning,” I’ve struggled behind the scenes—with time management, details, and emotional overwhelm. Reading about how people with dyslexia often experience high levels of anxiety and depression helped me connect the dots and have more empathy for myself.
Curiosity helped me rewrite the story I was telling myself—that I was failing. I wasn’t. I just needed understanding, not judgment.
3. Creativity
You’re an artist. Are you using that creative lens as you approach your inner world?
When things felt too heavy, I got creative with how I approached my days. I signed up for early-morning boxing to help with time management and productivity. I created affirmations and meditation rituals to prep for an upcoming performance. I even plan to videotape myself practicing and use Reiki to ground before going on stage.
No, I’m not perfectly prepared. But I’m more prepared. And that’s enough.
We live in a world full of challenging terrain—external and internal. But when we meet those storms with compassion, curiosity, and creativity, we turn despair into something powerfully healing. We find connection. We find ease. We make masterpieces.
The systems may be broken, but our love for each other—and for ourselves—is stronger than any of them. That love is where real transformation begins.
Understanding, not judgement 🙏🏽
Wise and helpful words.