Last week, I had a few days in San Diego with family commitments, but snuck away for an afternoon at the Pacific Ocean. The kiddo and I rode the waves by throwing our bodies into them, feeling into the push-pull rhythm in a way that stays in your body well after leaving. But at first, it felt foreign to my body. I stood with my back to the ocean, feeling the waves and then watching their foamy ripple move towards the shore. A few times, they’d rise taller, smacking me so hard on my back that it took my breath away or knocked me down, while salty water stung my eyes from flooding my face.

That mix of steady back and forth with some strong overcoming waves feels a lot like the moment folks are in right now.

Are you feeling some late-summer jitters or that unnamed dread of the school year (regardless of whether you have kids or not)? I mean, I just sent my kiddo off to 7th grade last week!

Whether you're in academia, an education-adjacent role, or simply feeling the cultural pull of the back-to-school season (hello, school supplies overflowing even in the grocery store), that creeping anxiety often comes unannounced and unwelcome.

Let’s meet it with presence, not panic.

Increasingly, it seems, or maybe it’s my aging, but every year when August rolls in like an unwelcome heatwave. A bit oppressive and uncomfortable. Lots of overwhelm in all the things to do, which then increases my anxiety. Work spills over into home time more and more, the tensing of the shoulders, tightening jaw, and a dread that blankets everything.

For me, my tolerance for what I lovingly call the bullshitery is at an all-time low. Some of that is due to heat and politics. Some of it from all the things happening in the world and country. Largely, though, with the ongoing work of healing my body and nervous system since leaving academia, I’m less interested or available to put up with inhumane work norms, for myself and for you.

Contrary to popular belief, boundaries at work don’t start with an email or a policy. They start with a moment of self-honesty.

In the world of work, especially for those of us called to lead, care, or create, we’re taught, subtly or directly, that being endlessly available equals being valuable. But the truth is: overgiving, overexplaining, and overextending don’t make you indispensable; they make you depleted.

We need to talk about your personal expectations (for yourself and others). 

More directly, and not to hurt your feelings: Why are they so high!?

And when you or others don’t meet them, you think more self-discipline is the answer. 

It’s probably not. It’s more likely that you need clearer systems on how you work and more clarity on why you’re doing it–with some real good value-aligned boundaries around all that to protect your time, energy, resources, and wellbeing.

That chronic burnout lifestyle of the old me? That was a lack of internal boundaries. My exhaustion, resentment, anger, poor health habits, injuries…all from zero internal boundaries.

A lot of folks I talk to who feel stuck at the edge of the big career question–Should I stay, go, or make a shift? What if I told you that you can feel different inside the work you have rather than leaving.

Helping clients plan sabbaticals with creative intention and true rest comes up often with my coaching clients. I think back to my own sabbatical before stepping into a department chair role. I’m so grateful I took that year (even with partial pay) because it took months just to unwind from the constant overing and hustle. Only in the second half of that year did I learn what a sabbatical is really meant to be: active, creative rest.

When Susan joined Stay, Go, or Transform Your Career, she was at a breaking point. Here’s her story.

After almost three decades in her academic role and institution, Susan felt emotionally and physically exhausted, isolated, and trapped by decades of “shoulds” that no longer fit. She was a few years from retirement and questioning if she could stay or should pivot out now. If she stayed, she felt “hijacked by academic culture,” weighed down by unfinished projects, and deeply disconnected from her own sense of worth and possibility. If she left, she felt unsure of her transition into the next chapter of retirement or a non-academic next career. 

Here’s something I’ve learned over the years of helping folks connect to their innate creativity, whether it’s related to career paths, research projects, writing endeavors, or living a more alive life.

Using your imagination isn’t just something you do when you’re being “creative.” It’s a resilience skill you can cultivate.

(And it might be exactly what you need right now.)

As I wrap up the Summer of Resilient Joy Creativity Lab workshop series with my clients this week, summer reaches its peak.

Pleasure, nature, and slow are part of our healing, not luxuries or rewards.

Yet, if you grew up like me, you’ve been taught to treat nature time like a reward or something you “earn” when the work is done. Or that Nature is separate from your real day-to-day life and something to be conquered or controlled. Or in a nicer way, maybe a place you go to vacation or relax or exercise. 

But I want to offer another perspective: Nature isn’t an escape from your life. It’s an essential part of it.

As I write this, I’m preparing for something I’ve never done before: a 5-day, 250-mile bike ride through southern Nebraska with Tour de Nebraska. When you read this, I’ll be camping in Curtis, getting ready to bike out 42 miles on Wednesday to Elwood. (Send me some resilient joy vibes, will ya?)

It’s something I’ve been building toward for the last six months, not just physically (although lots of that), but mentally, emotionally, and yes… creatively. Because if I’ve learned anything about Resilient Joy, it’s that even the good things - the things we choose with intention - will stir up self-doubt, fear, or old patterns.

If you’re feeling creatively flat, anxious, or like your energy is scattered in twelve different directions, you’re not stuck - although I hear us saying that we are all the time. You’re likely just disconnected from your body. And honestly? That makes sense.

We live in systems that reward overthinking and disembodiment. Many of us were trained, especially in academic, clinical, or leadership environments, to live from the neck up.