This is what I come back to when I feel off, unsure, heavy, or disconnected.

Not to fix it.

But to actually understand what’s happening beneath the surface.

These questions and tools help me move through confusion—gently, clearly, and without judgment.

1. Break it down into quadrants

I always start by breaking my life into four parts:

• Health
• Stability
• Relationships
• Career & Purpose

Then I number them based on what’s creating the most tension in this moment.

It’s easy to say “I’m overwhelmed,” but that doesn’t tell you anything.

It’s not a real feeling—it’s a placeholder. The work is learning to name what’s underneath.

Because when you name something clearly, it starts to lose its power.

2. What do I actually have planned?

Some days I’m anxious because my calendar is too full.

Other days, it’s because I haven’t planned anything—and the space makes me anxious.

So I ask:

• What am I doing today, really?
• What’s taking up mental space?
• What’s not planned that should be?

Structure can hold you—when it’s made with intention.

But too much structure, or too little, both make the nervous system feel unsafe.

This is about recalibrating—not controlling.

3. What’s making this environment hard to be in?

We often underestimate how much our environment impacts our emotions.

The light, the noise, the clutter. The energy of the space.

Is it quiet enough for me to hear myself?

Is something in this room making my body want to flee?

Your body feels the atmosphere before your mind can explain it.

So I ask: What’s not letting me breathe fully right now?

4. What coping tools actually work for me?

Coping isn’t about numbing or escaping.

It’s about remembering how to come back to yourself.

Everyone has different tools. For me, it’s sometimes silence. Sometimes movement.

Other times it’s a session with an energy healer, a long bath, a voice note to myself, a breath I actually feel.

But the real question is:

Is this thing I’m doing right now helping me feel more connected—or just distracting me?

5. What exactly am I feeling?

“I feel anxious” doesn’t say much.

I ask: Anxious about what?

• This hour?
• This season of life?
• Something old resurfacing?

Language shapes emotion. When I can say the feeling clearly, I start to soften toward it.

And softness lets the body finally exhale.

6. What do I expect happiness to look like?

This one hurts sometimes.

Because often the frustration isn’t that something is wrong—

It’s that I expected the day to feel a certain way, and it doesn’t.

I ask:

• What did I want this to feel like?
• Am I mourning a version of reality I never actually had?

This kind of honesty clears the fog.

It brings me back into what’s here—not what I imagined.

7. What actually made me feel bad today?

I try to untangle it.

• Am I just tired?
• Was it something someone said?
• Is it a deadline I ignored?
• Is it loneliness I didn’t admit?

Naming it with precision gives me power again.

Because emotions aren’t meant to be managed like tasks—they’re meant to be witnessed.

8. What’s the fear loop I’m in?

Fear doesn’t always show up as panic.

Sometimes it’s the quiet, persistent voice that tells me I’m behind. That nothing’s working.

So I trace it:

👉🏽 I didn’t get enough done → I’ll fall behind → I won’t succeed → I’ll end up alone

And I remind myself:

• None of this is happening right now. It’s a pattern, not a prophecy.
• You don’t have to believe every thought just because it speaks in your voice.

9. Am I just exhausted?

It’s not always mental.

Sometimes, I’m just hungry. Or didn’t sleep. Or have been “on” too long.

The mind needs safety to think clearly.

So I check:

• Did I eat something real?
• Did I sleep long enough to dream?
• Have I moved today?

Because without those things, nothing will feel right.

10. Record yourself talking

When I can’t write, I speak. Three minutes. Unfiltered. Then I listen.

I hear the tone. I notice what words I repeat.

I pick up on where I’m being hard on myself—or hiding something I’m afraid to admit.

This isn’t about solving.

It’s about hearing your inner world without skipping past it.

11. Where am I exaggerating?

My brain sometimes makes everything sound extreme.

“Everything’s off.”

“Nothing’s working.”

“This always happens.”

So I ask:

Is this true? Or is this just what I feel right now?

Language like that makes everything feel more permanent than it is.

Clarity begins by naming things exactly as they are. No bigger, no smaller.

12. Practice getting concise

Sometimes I take a sentence I’ve been repeating in my head and try to shrink it.

Can I say it in one sentence?

Can I name the actual emotion in one word?

This isn’t about performance.

It’s about precision. So my mind can stop spinning, and I can finally land.

13. What belief am I stuck in?

Old stories come back when I’m tired.

And if I repeat them long enough, they start to feel like truth.

• “I’m always behind.”
• “It’s too late for me.”
• “This is just how things go.”

But they’re not the truth. They’re rehearsed thoughts.

I pause.

I take a breath.

I tell myself, “We’re not in that story anymore.”

14. What am I trying to control?

When I feel agitated or small, it’s usually because I’m gripping onto something.

A specific outcome. A person’s reaction. A plan is going the way I want.

So I ask:

• What do I feel like I need to go a certain way right now?
• What am I forcing instead of flowing with?

Control feels like power—but it’s actually resistance.

And resistance is the thing keeping you stuck.

15. What’s mine—and what isn’t?

This is one I ask almost every day.

• Is this feeling mine?
• Or did I absorb it from someone else?
• A conversation, a space, a room that felt heavy?

If you’re sensitive, if you care deeply, you’re going to pick things up.

That doesn’t mean you need to carry them.

I imagine everything that isn’t mine gently leaving my body.

And I come back to myself.