“I don’t know what you’re doing, so you must not be doing anything.” That’s what a coworker from another department said to me. Not in a joking tone. Not as a question. As a statement. The logic was apparently this: if they couldn’t see me working, I must not be working at all. I was shocked. And honestly, I was hurt.

Here's where I am sitting today as I write this. Graduation is May 9th. I'm not walking. There won't be a ceremony for me, no cap, no stage, no speeches. And yet, somewhere in my brain, I've decided I am not allowed to celebrate until after May 9th. Why? I don't have a good answer. The work is done. The degree is earned. But there's some invisible permission slip I'm waiting for. Some "official" moment I think has to happen before I am allowed to mark this.

Change is hard. Some people love change. Some people resist it. But honestly? Whether you welcome it or dread it, change is still a challenge. Picture this. You're at work, somewhere you've been for a long time (in my case, 20+ years). You know the systems. You know the people. You know how to get things done. Then someone new walks in with fresh ideas, a different perspective, and a totally different way of thinking. Suddenly, the way you've always done things is up for de

A few weeks ago I read Scarcity Brain by Michael Easter, and I have not stopped thinking about it since. Easter spent years researching why our brains default to wanting more, no matter how much we already have. What he found is both unsettling and completely liberating once you understand it. Here is the short version: your brain evolved in a world where resources were genuinely scarce. Food, shelter, safety, warmth. Getting more of those things meant survival. So your brai