When we’re under chronic stress, our nervous systems are often focused on getting through the day, staying afloat, or simply keeping things from falling apart. In those states, it can be surprisingly hard to access what truly matters to us. Not because we don’t care—but because survival mode narrows our field of choice. Read our latest blog post to learn how nervous system regulation supports values-based living, sustainable goal-setting, and alignment without burnout or overwhelm.

Welcome to 2026! After an often pressure-filled December, January can arrive with its own kind of urgency — set goals, build momentum, catch up, get ahead. Do. Do. Do. But most of us are already carrying a lot. Growth often comes more readily — and more sustainably — when we integrate what we already know, slowly, gently, and in context.

For some of us, the holidays end up feeling less than joyful because of the pressure to bake, shop, decorate, attend every party, and eat and drink more than our systems actually want. We may find ourselves buying gifts purely out of tradition — that’s just the way it’s always been and I don’t want to let people down — rather than out of generosity or joy.

What if this year, we tried a few things just a little differently?

True resilience work holds both truths at once: we offer individuals educational awareness and tangible skills while working to transform the systems they’re part of. This is the heart of workplace resiliency — building trauma- and resiliency-informed practices and environments that ripple outward, shifting culture one small, intentional step at a time.

All of us experience our own version of a stress or trauma response — it’s part of being human. While our reactions may look different, we all respond in some way: sometimes it shows up outwardly, and other times it’s an internal storm no one else can see.

When stress or trauma becomes chronic, our nervous system can get “stuck,” which over time may affect our mental, physical, emotional, and even spiritual health.

Self-compassion isn’t the opposite of accountability—it requires it. It holds the truth that we’re doing our best and that there’s room to grow. It allows us to meet ourselves with patience and honesty. And when we can name what’s really going on underneath our behaviors, change doesn’t have to be forced. It starts to unfold with more ease—like summer itself.

Anxiety is a word that comes up all the time — in my office, in conversations with friends, and definitely in my own inner dialogue:
I’m anxious about an upcoming family event. I’m anxious about climate change. I’m anxious about my child and how they’ll grow into adulthood. I’m anxious about my health or the health of those I love. I’m anxious about the world, in general.