Dear Diary—
Where the hell is the cruise control on this SOB?
In the context of driving, it’s important to know something about me: I am absolutely horrendous at keeping a steady speed. I’m either laying on the gas because I’m rushing through life, or I’m poking along without a care in the world.
As it applies to life, I see a parallel. I’m either kicking ass and taking names, or I’m down and discouraged because things aren’t working out the way I planned—or was promised.
I’m not sure if it was the messages I got as a kid (that Happily Ever After crap), or the life lesson that said, “If you work hard and follow the plan, everything will work out.” But I’m telling you, I don’t think this ship called life is operating the way we were told it would.
Doing everything “right”
I did it all “right.”
I worked hard.
Got a job at 14.
Got good grades.
Went to college.
Finished college (with some twists and turns along the way).
Found me a good man.
Enjoyed life without kids.
Had kids.
Bought a house.
Got a couple dogs.
Built a business.
Took moderately good care of my health (I’m known to indulge in chocolate, cheese, and wine—but who doesn’t?).
So why the HELL is this so hard?
This being life.
When life keeps happening
Just when I think I’m up to speed and can set this bitch on cruise, something happens.
ALWAYS. Something.
A bill.
A repair.
A conflict.
A death.
A mess.
And—more often than not, for me anyway—an injury.
Over the past several years, I’ve found myself saying, “It shouldn’t be this hard!” Depending on the severity of the thing, my stress tolerance, my hormone levels, and a myriad of other factors, I’m either able to roll with it and take the “Que Sera Sera” approach…
—or I’m one carpet-stain, eye-roll, chip-crunching nerve away from losing all my shit.
Holding the tension between truth and grace
I abide by the wisdom that life is the art of holding the balance between truth and grace. When I can offer myself the latter, I know a few things to be true:
I know life happens.
I know life is short.
I know life isn’t fair. I don’t always have a full tank.
I know I don’t always have a full tank.
I know peace comes from within.
And contentment—in any circumstance—is the goal.
I know there is no “right” way.
And even if you followed it, things don’t always work out.
And that’s okay.
But DAMN—
Does it have to be this hard?
Naming what is (without shame)
I suppose I’m learning that… yes. Yes, it is. Life is this hard.
Not because I’m being punished.
Or because I didn’t follow instructions.
Or because I’m not wise enough, smart enough, or thoughtful enough.
Life is simply hard.
And yes—there are ways we can make it easier by learning, adapting, and growing. That’s the work I do every day as a therapist—helping people regulate emotions, navigate relationships, recover from burnout, and stay connected when life activates them.
But also… there is no cruise control for this.
And maybe that is the key to finding the balance between truth and love:
resolving the tension instead of trying to eliminate it.
Making meaning (or not)
There are as many ways to do this as there are people.
Coming from a Christian background, my best explanation has been the effects of a broken world that has not yet been redeemed. While I believe redemption will come one day, others may believe that’s not the point—or that the world isn’t broken at all.
Perhaps it simply is, and the tension is resolved through radical acceptance of what is.
Perhaps redemption doesn’t come from a single divine entity, but from each living creature finding balance within themselves—then offering more of that equilibrium back into the world.
Perhaps there is no greater meaning.
We live.
We die.
We do what we can while we’re here.
One of the quiet tasks of a life well-lived
Whatever way one finds comfort, I am becoming more convinced this is one of those fundamental “tasks” of a life well-lived.
One of those life skills we should probably start teaching.
And now that I’m saying it out loud, one of the broader things I actually do as a therapist.
Funny how a person can do something for others all day long, but only at certain moments do the lights go on for themselves.
There is no cruise control
This is what hit me like a ton of bricks at the start of 2026:
Life doesn’t have cruise control.
There is no right path, strategy, or emotionally intelligent decision-making that will prevent tragedy or curveballs. That’s part of the game. And while there is crying in life (definitely not in baseball), those tears don’t mean you failed or missed something in Life Skills class.
It simply is what it is.
Que Sera.
Shit happens.
Divine intervention.
Call it whatever you subscribe to.
What we’re NOT subscribing to anymore is character flaws, shame, self-doubt, or self-deprecating narratives.
That’s cancelled.
It’s no longer serving me—or us.
So I’m putting it down this year.
You with me?
Sincerely,
A therapist — who’s human too
PS. Please pardon my language. I was pretty keyed up when I wrote this entry. I thought about editing it but decided this is a place we are real. The good, the bad, and uncensored at times.
Reflection:
Where are you still looking for cruise control in a life that doesn’t have one?
