“It’s better than sitting on the couch,” said a stranger I was sharing a ski lift with on a school night, responding to my comment about the decline in snow conditions.
That idea stayed with me, not the getting off the couch part, but the underlying theme of the comment.
A quiet why not attitude.
An openness to being there anyway.
Choosing the experience, even when conditions aren’t perfect.
I kind of loved it.
That mindset has been echoing for me this week, because I wasn’t feeling inspired to write — and that, in itself, felt like the point.
The first week back from break flowed. Motivation was high, and I eased into the rhythm of work. Then, almost without noticing, the pace picked up. The days began to feel busy and constant again - exactly what I’ve been trying not to spiral back into.
December was hard. So many things needed to get done before the end of the year, every second accounted for. I was overstimulated, my mind constantly occupied with to-do lists. Not just work things, but life things too — home, family, logistics — all competing for attention.
I didn’t want to fall back into that noise.
Now, I notice it when my mind jumps from thought to thought, when I’m mentally planning the next thing while still in the middle of the current one - and missing what’s happening right in front of me. When I’m busier, my patience is thinner. I raise my voice when I don’t want to. I react instead of respond, and then feel frustrated with myself for it.
And I know I’m not the only one.
This is what so many adults — parents, educators, caregivers — are experiencing right now. Not burnout exactly, but something quieter and harder to name. A constant hum of stimulation. Too many inputs. Too many tabs open in our minds.
We’re not failing at balance. Our nervous systems are overloaded.
For a long time, I thought this meant I needed to be more disciplined. More efficient. Better at managing my time. But the truth is, when life gets louder, we don’t need better productivity - we need to do less.
Overstimulation doesn’t make us bad parents or impatient teachers. It makes us human.
Lately, I’ve been experimenting with something simple. When I come home, I take off my watch. I put my phone away. Not forever. Not perfectly. Just enough to signal to my body that I don’t need to track, respond, or optimize right now - and can instead focus on connecting with my family and community.
I don’t think about everything that still needs to get done. I focus on our five-year-old - all his sweetness, all the love, his innocence. I try to catch glimpses of how he views the world, because it’s so full of wonder. Dance parties. Exploring. Reading. His endless curiosity about life.
And why not? Maybe that’s what I need more of right now: curiosity.
I find myself wondering what I miss when I’m overstimulated or caught in constant distraction. I miss moments that are right in front of me - moments that fill me up and quietly remind me why I care so deeply about the life I’m building. I miss the awe-inspiring light of the sunset on the mountain. A genuine connection with a co-worker. A shared laugh that softens the day.
These small, ordinary moments are easy to overlook. But they are the ones that ground us. They bring us back to ourselves. They move the noise just far enough away that we can breathe again.
I don’t think the answer is eliminating distraction entirely. Life doesn’t work that way. But maybe it’s about noticing when the noise gets too loud - and choosing, even briefly, to turn toward what’s already here.
Because why not?