v. 65 We Don’t Lose Ourselves All at Once
Welcome to Life, Created — a weekly(ish) reflection on the wisdom of being a grown-ass human and staying curious when the world’s on fire. Rooted in microjoys, meaning, and the moments that make it all worthwhile.
A special welcome to the newest folks joining this Substack from my recent talks for CREW Network and Julie Vos.
I’m currently spending (way) too much time thinking about how easy it is to hand over our power while convincing ourselves that we are in full control. And when we really want to fool ourselves, we might even pretend that we’re simply being informed, responsible, or disciplined by doing so.
This usually starts with something genuinely helpful, like a news app, a health tracker, a belief that keeps us comfortable, or hell, even a spiritual practice that carries us through a crappy season. We choose it because it helps. And because it genuinely works, we begin to trust it. Over time, though, that same trust can turn into powerlessness. We stop checking whether the thing, whatever it is, still makes sense for who we are now simply because it once did. We just stop checking in.
Last week I was giving a talk in New York about realistic optimism and microjoys. I talked about how our beliefs shape what we notice and how the stories we repeat determine the tone of our lives. I reminded everyone that our beliefs deserve regular interrogation because what once supported us can eventually narrow us. This is central to my work. I believe deeply that we are responsible for examining the mental frameworks we carry. And still, the first thing I did this morning was check my Oura ring to see how I was supposed to feel and how I slept. And in that moment, I had a very clear, very unpolished thought: what the fuck am I doing? I already know how I feel and I know how I slept because I did the sleeping. Why do I need this app to tell me that?
I’ve worn my Oura ring religiously for three years. I’ve recommended it enthusiastically. I appreciate data and I like patterns. Patterns in clothing and on walls, obviously, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. These things keep me comfortable. Truly, give me a chart or a spreadsheet and I feel like I’m doing something productive with my life. But somewhere along the way I began checking my metrics before checking in with myself. If my HRV dipped, and I’m still not entirely sure what that even means in a lived, practical sense, I lowered my expectations for the day, which is wild when you consider that I have lived in this body for 48 years. If my readiness score hovered below “Optimal,” I somehow already felt behind. I could wake up feeling great, glance at the numbers on my phone, and revise the story of my own body within a millisecond. And like an alarm that turned on out of nowhere this morning, I realized I had allowed a tiny gold device to become the narrator of how I physically and mentally felt. So much so that I stopped paying attention to how I felt because well, my ring would tell me.
That moment wasn’t really about the Oura ring, though. It was about the recognition that I’d outsourced my own well-being and my own authority. I talk about self-trust for a living. I talk about interrogating beliefs. And yet I was letting a readiness score shape how I evaluated myself every day. Go figure.
The more I sit with this, the more I understand that this dynamic shows up everywhere. We do it with productivity, deciding that our worth rises and falls based on our output. We do it with identity, locking ourselves into being the strong one or the reliable one long after those roles stopped feeling useful. We do it with social media every single morning when we reach for our phones before we’ve even checked in with ourselves. Within minutes of waking up, we’re absorbing someone else’s success, someone else’s outrage, someone else’s curated life, and our nervous system adjusts accordingly. Before water or coffee, before a single original thought has been formed in our heads, we’ve already let the scroll set the tone for our day.
I read recently about a rule of no social media before noon, and I felt both resistant and deeply interested. Resistant because I don’t like being told what to do and I like being “in the know.” Also, because I’m a little bit nosy. Interested because I know exactly what it feels like to have my mood shaped by what I consume before I’ve formed a single independent thought.
The stickier part of this situation for me is this: nothing forces us into it. We opt in. We download the app, adopt the belief, and we rehearse the story. Because the tool or framework once helped us, we assume it deserves permanent residence in our lives. We rarely pause to ask whether we are still choosing it or whether it is now choosing for us.
After I had my small existential moment with my Oura numbers, I removed the device and factory reset it. For now. I didn’t do this because technology or data are inherently bad, but because I recognized that I’ve drifted from my own inner wisdom. I’ve slowly allowed something external to weigh in way too heavily on something internal.
The larger question feels more important than a fitness app or scrolling social media: where have we solidified around a belief simply because it once worked? Where are we mistaking loyalty for growth? Where have we confused being informed with being in charge? The answer, I suspect, is choice by choice, step by step, moment by moment.
Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up without checking a score. I’m almost certain my body will still know whether it is tired. I suspect my intuition will still be available. And I am curious what it feels like to let my own read on my life come first, before a tiny screen or a weird-ass metric gets a vote.
Stay tuned while I learn to trust myself again.
Every essay features a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
Meet Shirley, the Pothead.
This week’s microjoy: We just had a blizzard in the Northeast this weekend. After a full day of unapologetic slothing around the house, Ira suggested we go outside and throw snowballs. I declined. The snow was too wet and I had no interest in being pelted by slush. I countered with yoga. He countered with, “How about a snowman?”
I caved. But not before calling our adult neighbor to join us in building what could generously pass for a snowperson. Her name is Shirley.
P.S. Per usual, if this resonated with you- repost, comment, share and spread the word.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
Want to support Life, Created?
🗣️ HIRE ME: When you (or a colleague) are looking for an amazing speaker for your next conference, gathering or event—-I’d love for you to consider booking me. Here’s more info. And of course, pickup copy of my latest book, MICROJOYS.
🥰 ENGAGE: Share this essay and your (kind) thoughts in a comment below #BecauseCommunity
🙏🏽 SPREAD THE WORD: Forward it to your fave people. Share, Comment, Restack!
🧡 FOLLOW: over on Instagram and LinkedIn, too.
