Getting Quiet: From Panic to Possibility

In the face of uncertainty, a simple realization helped me reframe my mindset

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Hi friends,

In the middle of a stressful week, I had an aha moment that struck me like a palm to the forehead.

I’m a healthcare writer who works from my home near Philly. As a fellow freelancer once articulated so well, when you work for yourself you’re usually in one of two states: freaking out because you have too much to do or freaking out because you don’t.

I had just wrapped up two weeks of conducting interviews, writing articles, and making edits for two simultaneous client publications. I prefer being busy, but was looking forward to slowing the pace just enough to siphon some brainpower for my personal writing—the book proposal for my memoir-in-progress, a couple pitches I’m developing for reported stories, and my first Substack (yep, this one).

Except once the pace slowed, I realized it wasn’t picking back up. I didn’t have a full pipeline of work scheduled like usual. Anxiety seeped through my body like wet concrete—heavy, gray, and immobilizing.

It wasn’t so much my lighter workload causing me stress, but the uncertainty of its duration. The concept of uncertainty has been top of mind as I’ve worked on my memoir. It’s the story of my journey from hypervigilance to trust, and how I navigated the uncertainty of my daughter’s life-threatening illness. And that’s when it hit me—my problem and solution were right in front of me.

I realized I’d been so absorbed in writing my story lately that I had strayed from the very practices I was writing about—the ones that helped me find clarity, agency, and peace of mind during the most harrowing circumstances of my life. Maybe it was life imitating art, but I decided to pay attention to the hard-earned lessons in my manuscript.

Maybe it was life imitating art, but I decided to pay attention to the hard-earned lessons in my manuscript.

I knew I possessed all the tools I needed to respond proactively to my situation and redirect my thoughts from panic to possibility. I reminded myself I’d dealt with slowdowns before and they never lasted long. I knew how to hustle and what steps to take to increase my volume of work. I also knew that counterintuitive as it seemed, I needed to carve time out of each day to get quiet and allow the real magic to happen. In other words, I needed to meditate.

I’ve been practicing Transcendental Meditation for seven years and while my consistency has wavered, it’s a habit I can easily slip back into. That day, I meditated and immediately felt my body relax and my mind grow calm. Afterward, I reached for my journal—another practice I drift from regularly that rewards me each time I return, and wrote three questions as writing prompts:

1. What am I grateful for at this moment?

The mental health benefits of a gratitude practice have been well documented in scientific literature. As New Age woo-woo as it sounds, I’ve personally experienced the positive effects of naming the things I’m thankful for and I’ve come to rely on it as a quick fix whenever I am feeling “off.” 

2. What can I do each day to support feeling my best physically and mentally?

I was looking for small steps I could take right away that didn’t require a heavy commitment or long list of supplies—things like getting outside for a walk while it was still light out. Drinking at least 36 ounces of water. Being mindful of what I ate to ensure I had nutrition and balance each day.

3. What would it look like to treat this slowdown not as a problem but as an opportunity?

This was the question that lit a fire in me. I thought: What if I used this moment as a chance to stop pinballing from one job to the next in pure reactive mode, and instead thought about the kind of work I’d love to go after? What if, instead of grabbing for low-hanging fruit out of fear, I climbed higher and changed my vantage point? If I gave myself permission to dream, what kind of ambitious, exciting projects or partnerships would I want to pursue?

What if, instead of grabbing for low-hanging fruit out of fear, I climbed higher and changed my vantage point?

I’m going to pause right here and let you in on a fundamental dichotomy in my personality. I’m a Capricorn, Enneagram Six, pragmatic thinker whose decision-making is typically grounded in evidence-based science and a need for safety and control. On the other hand, I’m highly intuitive, fascinated by synchronicity, and as likely to turn to my Tarot cards for guidance as I am to Google. Good things tend to happen when I trust my gut and pay attention to signs that I’m on the right path.

Answering those questions in my journal without judgment or fear gave me a needed dose of optimism and helped me articulate a thought that’s been brewing for the last year: I want to do more to integrate the two halves of my writing life. To use my skills and expertise to tell stories that will spark conversation, expand minds, and inspire positive change.

I love healthcare writing. I love learning about advances in medicine and research from those on the frontlines and sharing that information in a clear and captivating voice. I love shining a light on the creative and meaningful ways people are making a difference to others or simply getting through each day in the face of hardship. I love telling stories of bold resilience and quiet courage. They are the kinds of stories that helped me move forward after learning the devastating news that split my life into before and after.

This summer will mark 25 years since I found out my daughter had cystic fibrosis, a genetic illness that gradually destroys the lungs. Back then, I held my not-quite-two-year-old daughter on my lap as her pediatrician gave me the “good news” that the average lifespan had increased to 31 years. I sat in stunned silence. I was 31 at the time.

I didn’t know then how wildly uncertain the next 25 years would be, or that even the darkest periods would be studded with constellations—luminous moments of connection, levity, or hope.

I didn’t know then that while uncertainty could feel paralyzing, it would also propel me in new directions that would enrich my life. 

I didn’t know then that in 2018, 20 years after her diagnosis, my daughter would be accepted into a clinical trial for a miraculous new CF drug that would kick that age of survival to the curb and open up a world of possibility for her future.

So…stress and anxiety about what happens next? Yeah, I still experience both, but when I have the presence of mind to press pause on my ruminating brain, I remember I’ve traveled a similar path before and know how to dodge the boulders. I’ve also learned that those times I’ve found myself on an unfamiliar path, it often led to the most breathtaking views. 

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Three Things That Entertained, Inspired, or Intrigued Me

1. This pinned tweet from the National Park Service made me snort. As a marketer, I admire the brand voice.

2. I’m a latecomer to HBO’s Somebody Somewhere and fell in love with Season 1 just in time for Season 2’s premiere in April. I love shows like this that organically flow from sweetness to heartache to hilarity—where the writing and casting are so exceptional, the characters, dialogue, and relationships feel believable. Think: David and Stevie in Schitt’s Creek and Sam and her daughters in Better Things. The show’s strength is in the details—it’s less about big dramatic moments, but an accumulation of lovely little ones that left me sad to reach the end. 

3. This TED Talk by psychotherapist Lori Gottlieb, author of the terrific Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, came across my radar recently. I don’t know when it originated, but the message resonated. I also shared it with a friend who is going through a tough situation. Gottlieb talks about how changing your narrative can change your life. I believe it’s useful advice, not only for reframing the beliefs you hold about your own situation—and the choices you can make to change it—but for becoming a more empathetic person toward others.