Overwhelm

When it happens, how do you dig your way out?

Hello, Friend.

Thank you for being here. Your presence in this space means so much.

As we begin a new month, I’m reminded how quickly summer passes. Do you ever wonder what happens to time that leaves us?

Today, let’s have a discussion about overwhelm. Even the topic sounds, well, overwhelming. Where do we even start?

After you read my essay, you’re invited to join the conversation and share how you manage moments, okay days, of overwhelm. In other words, how do you dig your way out?

First, a favor. If you’d kindly click the heart button at the beginning or end of this essay, it’ll indicate to others you were here and perhaps nudge someone else to read it too. It’s a small thing but important, nonetheless.

---

---

Overwhelm

When it happens, how do you dig your way out?

Husband and I recently returned from a road trip to beautiful Montana to visit Dear Daughter and family. It was a short, twice postponed trip due to reasons too complicated to get into here. It was wonderful to see everyone, especially my darling grandchildren. I’m not allowed to share photos of them online. I totally support this parental decision, so I’ll share one of my handsome four-legged grandpups instead. 🙂

On the left, Rip the lab (he’s 4) and on the right, Remy the Weim (he’s 9). Such good boys! Photo credit Lindsay Stordahl

Upon returning from Montana, I’ve been experiencing a pretty intense feeling of overwhelm. This might be a feeling you’re familiar with these days, too. Hence, this essay. Let’s commiserate!

Does overwhelm happen due to circumstances out of our control, or do we allow it to happen to us?

I’m going with the first because the latter feels like implying it’s all my fault. It’s likely the real reason is a combo of the two.

Also, is overwhelm the same thing as stress? Maybe. Maybe not.

Regardless…

Why am I feeling overwhelmed?

I’ll share a few reasons for my current feelings of overwhelm. They are in no particular order.

1) I LOVE reading pieces from fellow Substackers I subscribe to. But after being mostly offline for over a week, I fell behind. I mean, really behind.

There are a ton of gifted writers here who I enjoy reading and supporting. (There are many more I’d love to support.)

I’ve tried to at least click on the little heart buttons to show I’m still out here reading. Usually whenever I read, I try to comment too. Not happening lately—not even to express my gratitude to those who’ve mentioned me in their writing. Guilt. Apologies. Overwhelm.

Questions to self (and perhaps for you, too):

Have I subscribed to too many Substacks, and might it be time to whittle down my reads?

How many is too many, though, or is there even such a thing?

Is subscribing but not reading really support?

(I wrote about this very thing last fall. You can read that piece HERE.)

2) Getting my own writing done and sticking to my twice-a-month publishing schedule has proven to be a challenge lately.

This immediately brings up feelings of self-doubt and unworthiness that tend to snowball.

You know the ones, right?

Feelings like:

I’m not good enough. I’m not a real writer. Why am I here? Why can’t I get more done (not just writing)? Many Substackers post weekly, so what’s my problem? Substack ‘experts’ insist I must bring value to readers. Am I? Maybe. Maybe not. What constitutes value? Isn’t that a pretty subjective thing? Why would anyone read, much less pay for, words I write anyway? (Notice the snowball effect?)

Lately, I’ve been experiencing writer imposter syndrome—a phrase I don’t even like or use much. Anyone relate?

3) Now that I have a handful of paid subscribers—literally a handful—I can count them on one hand, what should I be offering them?

I bet you know this feeling too—that annoying I need to do more feeling. Do more. Offer more. Be more. Nuts, right? And yet…

(Oh, and don’t get me wrong. I treasure ALL subscribers. Free and paid.)

4) Husband has had some super stressful stuff happening at work. Things that impact our future—our retirement. Big stuff.

5) A sibling is going through stage 4 cancer treatment. (I haven’t shared much about this out of respect for her privacy.)

I want to do more to support her, but time and distance are hindrances. Still, I keep wondering, what else should/can I do?

This situation also brings up memories about my own cancer experience that are always lurking right below the surface anyway. For example, July was the month I started chemotherapy. There is much to remember…

Also, survivor’s guilt is real. And don’t get me started on cancer overwhelm. That topic requires a post all its own.

6) My yard. Yeah, I feel a bit silly for even mentioning this one, but yet, there it is. Or rather there they are—all those weeds!

The weeds are taking over. Literally. Taking over. As are the bushes on the other side of my kitchen window. Yikes!

Mother Nature seems to be perpetuating some sort of precipitation overwhelm herself. The rain just keeps coming. So stuff just keeps growing. Alas, yardwork overwhelm is real too.

7) The relaunch of my memoir is going nowhere fast.

I’ve had plans to redo the cover and release a 10th anniversary, 2nd edition in time for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Not likely either is happening, not in that time frame anyway.

And that next book? Ideas roll around in my head like unruly marbles scattering in every direction, not even close to making their way to my keyboard, much less out into the world.

8) In April we welcomed a puppy into our hearts and home. Yes, good things sometimes create overwhelm, too. Ask any new parent. (More on puppy coming soon!)

We love this bundle of mischief dearly, but if you’ve ever opened your heart and home to a puppy, you likely understand ‘puppy overwhelm’, right? (Is it the same with kittens?)

9) Perhaps, as might be the case for you too, overwhelm takes hold more easily these days due to all that’s happening in our country.

Every day delivers more dismal news and more disappointment.

Questions that should have simple, reassuring answers, instead too often leave me feeling distressed and more than a little disheartened regarding our country’s future.

Questions like:

Has outrage surrendered to numbness?

How and when did inclusiveness become a bad thing?

Has our nation’s commitment to our shared humanity and caring about others whithered up?

Is our democracy truly slipping away bit by bit?

Would our forefathers be shocked by and even ashamed of what we’ve become?

Has silence become acceptable and power more important than speaking out or doing what’s right?

What sort of world are we leaving those precious grandchildren—mine, yours, everyone’s?

Sure, continuing to create, practicing self-care, and turning to nature are solid forms of resistance. Linking arms in solidarity with like-minded folks makes me feel less alone. And yet, these things, too, feel inadequate during this historic, difficult time. Plus, I want to have conversations with folks who do not see things as I do. Because inclusiveness matters here too.

Political overwhelm weighs heavy for many of us these days. For me and perhaps for you, too.

So, now let’s get to the ‘other side’ of this essay—what to do when overwhelm hits.

Below are a few things I will try to do. Let me know if any appeal to you. Or not.

• Pause and breathe. Literally and figuratively.

• Practice self-care. (Yeah, self-care is almost a buzz word these days, but…) What self-care means changes day to day, even hour to hour. I will listen to my body and my heart, too.

• I will remind myself to “be here now”. Thank you,

  Don Boivin
  , for explaining so succinctly this simple technique that’s readily available to us all here. I love this and encourage you to check out his article.

• Give myself grace. I don’t have to do or be more. Neither do YOU. As I’ve been saying for over a decade now in my writings: Be real. Be you. It’s enough. (Why is listening to my own advice so hard?)

• If I deviate from my self-imposed publishing schedule, so what? Besides, no one but me likely notices when I do or don’t anyway, right?

• I will cherish my tribe here on Substack (and elsewhere) and hold those in it close. I would mention some of them, but I know too well what it feels like to not be included, so today, I will not. (You know who you are.)

• I will offer support to as many as I can (on Substack and elsewhere), but first I must offer it to myself. An example of this meant writing this essay for me and for YOU, Dear Reader, before reading, liking, commenting on, and restacking the writings of others.

• As for political overwhelm—I wish I had better ideas. But I will not give up on democracy. As trying as it is, I will stay informed. And I will do what I can when I can. Silence and apathy are not options.

Yes, I’m still behind. But I’ll be caught up sooner or later. Probably later, but that’s okay.

Will doing these things be enough?

Maybe. Maybe not. But these things feel doable and doable matters.

Now, for the best part of every essay—when you share YOUR thoughts and ideas.

Let’s have that conversation about overwhelm.

Go ahead and share this essay with someone you know who’s experiencing overwhelm. Together we can support one another through overwhelm, too.

---

When did you last feel overwhelm’s grip tighten?

How do you manage overwhelm when it happens?

Do you think stress is the same as overwhelm?

---

Thank you for reading and being part of this discussion. I appreciate you.

If you’re new to this space, my name is Nancy. At this point in my life, I’ve checked off a lot of boxes: Author. Cancer Rebel. Griever. Educator. Dog Lover. Introvert. Boomer. Adult Orphan. Mother. Grandmother.

Sharing our stories is powerful, and it’s why I’m here. I’m sharing my stories, but I really want to learn about YOURS. Together we can change lives, maybe the world, one word, one story at a time. If you believe this too, consider becoming a subscriber—free or paid.

This community welcomes you. I promise YOU will be seen and heard here. I respond to every comment and email.

To learn more about what I’m trying to create in this space, visit my ABOUT page. If you like what you read here, thank you for recommending Nancy’s Point.

---

As always, I see you. I hear you, and I care about what you have to say.

Until next time…

Take care of yourself, be kind to someone, and be a light.

With much gratitude,

Nancy

---

Paid subscriptions not your thing, but you’d still love to offer financial support for this article? The PayPal Me option might suit you. One time, any amount. Always appreciated.

---

P.S. I’m heading out on another roadtrip soon. It’s likely I’ll fall behind again. Nonetheless, I intend to enjoy myself and the rest of summer, too. I wish the same for you—the enjoying summer part—not the falling behind part!

I’ll share one more photo of beautiful MT because why not.

I forgot where I took this photo, but does it even matter?