A few years ago, I was in the middle of a move I didn't feel ready for. To make it harder, a back injury sent sharp lines of pain down my leg with every box I taped shut. I was tired, scared, and caught in a loop of trying to "think" my way out of it. I told myself I was strong and that the move would be easy. It felt like a lie because it was. I realized that overcoming overwhelm isn't about pretending things are fine. It’s about a fundamental shift in how we see the storm we’re standing in.
Shifting Your Perspective to Overcoming Overwhelm
Most conventional advice tells us to change the weather. We stand in a gale and try to convince ourselves the air is still. We tell ourselves the move will be effortless or the injury will vanish if we just say the right words. This is exhausting. It puts our peace of mind at the mercy of things we can't control. It’s like trying to stop the wind with your bare hands. There’s a different way. Instead of trying to stop the wind, we focus on steadying the house.
When you’re in the middle of something intense, shifting your perspective can sound like advice from another planet. Your system is already working hard. Pain is loud. Change is loud. And the mind does what minds do under stress. It grabs for control. This is the urgency trap. You feel like you must fix the external world before you can feel okay inside. When that urgency takes over, it can feel like you’re constantly feeling rushed, even when there’s no actual emergency. I wrote more about how this pattern works, and how to interrupt it, here: Why You Always Feel Rushed (The Urgency Trap).
That’s why forcing positive thoughts so often backfires. You can feel yourself trying to talk your way out of what’s happening, while another part of you is thinking, This isn't true. I’m not okay. The result is more strain, not relief. You end up lost in a should fog, telling yourself you should be handling this better or that life should be different than it is.
Practicing the Return
A steadier move is simpler. You stop arguing with the weather. You notice the part of you that’s bracing, tightening, and trying to push the moment away. Then you give yourself one small permission: I can be with this without making it mean something about me.
This is the return. It’s not a grand breakthrough. It’s more like coming back into the room. It might sound like: I’m in pain, and I’m scared. And I don’t need to add self-attack on top of that. Or: These boxes are heavy. That doesn’t get a vote on my worth. The outside might not change yet. But the inside stops escalating.
A Simple Anchor: Music That Stays Steady
Sometimes it helps to borrow steadiness from something outside your own mind. Music can do that fast, especially when you’re spun up.
Max Richter’s On the Nature of Daylight is a good companion here. It doesn’t demand a specific mood. It just stays steady. If you want, put it on for a few minutes and do one thing only: feel your feet on the floor. Feel the chair. Let your shoulders drop one notch. Nothing heroic is required.
Finding Your Own Steadiness
If you’re tired of trying to "think positive" your way out of a life that feels heavy, you’re not alone. A lot of thoughtful people get stuck there because it looks like the mature option. Try harder. Reframe harder. Be more grateful. And somehow, be less human.
But you don’t have to do it that way.
If you want a little structure for working with these moments, I’ve put together a short PDF called "Working With Your Mind." It’s a shared language guide for what we’re doing when we stop fighting the wind and start steadying the house. You can download it on my How I Can Help page.
And if you want support applying this in real time, that’s what coaching is for. Not to fix you. To help you meet your mind with more clarity and less self-pressure, especially when life is loud.
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