Tag: overwhelm

Stillness

Kristine Binder

This morning, I did something I rarely do: I walked without anything in my ears. No podcast. No music. No audiobook. No phone call. Just… me and the morning.
Okay, to be honest, it wasn’t exactly intentional. I forgot my AirPods!
But maybe the universe knew something I didn’t.
Lately, my world has felt really loud. Overwhelming. So much coming at me from every direction—emotionally, mentally, even physically. Constant noise. Constant motion. I’ve been carrying it all, and this morning? I was tired. I am tired.
I stepped outside into a cool, damp, grey spring morning—a sky that perfectly matched my mood. Grey.
And in that unexpected quiet, something shifted.
Without my usual distractions, I found myself tuning into the world around me. I heard the birds singing layered melodies overhead, the low rumble of distant cars, the rhythmic ding of train gates coming down, and then the whoosh of a passing train. Kids passed by on their way to school—some laughing, some dragging backpacks twice their size. Lucky’s collar jingled beside me in steady time with the sound of my own footsteps.
The sky, though heavy, made everything else stand out more vividly. I spotted a cardinal darting between branches(hi, dad!), squirrels in their usual chaotic hustle, even a few bunnies tucked into the morning quiet. I could smell fresh coffee from the neighborhood café and someone’s breakfast —bacon maybe? Funny how that works. When I tune out, I tune in.
And today, in the stillness, I was able to give my head, heart and soul a break. I was able to catch my breath for a bit. I was able to find a little peace.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Grief

Kristine Binder

Grief is a strange, relentless companion. It comes in waves, some so powerful they knock me off my feet, while others gently lap at my ankles before receding into the background. Lately, though, the waves feel more like a storm. The world is so heavy right now, and I can feel that weight pressing down on my chest. Everywhere I turn, there seems to be another loss, another heartbreak, another reason to grieve.
Losing my dad has been a pain I can hardly describe. It’s not just the absence of his voice or his laugh—it’s the absence of his presence in my life, the anchor he provided, the memories we’ll never create. On top of that, dear friends of mine are mourning loved ones. A young person I cherished as if they were my own has left this world far too soon. Each loss feels like another stone added to the pile I carry, threatening to bury me.There are moments when it all feels so overwhelming that I want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and disappear. The thought of facing another day, carrying another burden, is sometimes too much to bear. But then there are other moments—moments when that grief fuels a fire in me to fight. To show up for my children, my students, my community. To prove that love and resilience can be louder than hate and despair.
Being my mother’s emergency contact now is a new weight I hadn’t prepared for. It’s a role that feels heavy with responsibility and the reminder of how fragile life is. Sometimes, the pressure of it all feels like it might crush me. But then I remember: forward is my pace. Even if it’s just baby steps, I keep moving. One foot in front of the other. One moment at a time.
Grief, I’ve learned, doesn’t go away. It shifts, it changes, and it continues to wash over me in unexpected moments. Some days, I feel like I’m barely keeping my head above water. Other days, I find glimmers of peace when the waves recede. But within those waves, I try to find the strength to swim. To reach out to others. To remind myself that while the world feels heavy, we don’t have to carry it alone.
Peace is not always easy to find, but it is there—waiting in the moments when the waves recede, offering us the chance to catch our breath. Let’s take those baby steps together, reminding ourselves that we don’t have to face it alone. In the moments when the storm calms, we can find breath, and maybe even hope, together.
If you’re reading this and you’re feeling the weight of your own grief, know that you’re not alone. Take those baby steps, no matter how small. Cry if you need to. Rest if you can. Fight when you’re ready. And remember: forward is always a pace.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Numb

Kristine Binder

Death. 
Grief. 
Sadness. 
Loss. 
Numbness.
This week three people close to me passed away.
All were sudden and two were young…in the prime of life. 
And I have not cried. 
Not one single tear has escaped my eyes. 
I am numb. 
My heart aches for the families of these people and I want to take away their pain.  But my only real feeling is guilt. I feel guilty for surviving. I feel guilty for my blessings. I feel so horribly guilty for not feeling anything else at all. 
I just don’t know what to feel or how to feel it. I am so afraid to allow myself to really grieve. I am afraid that once I open that door, I will not be able to close it. I am scared that if I feel anything, it will overwhelm me. I have been in that place of all consuming grief before and almost did not make it out. I am so terrified that if I allow myself to go down that rabbit hole again, this time I will not make it out alive. And for that I feel more guilt. 
So I wonder if my numbness is my soul protecting itself. I wonder if my numbness is my heart closing ranks and saying, “Not now. It’s too heavy for you to carry.” I wonder if my head got all those messages and has shut down the circuits so as not to cause a complete system failure. 
Perhaps someday I will  feel safe enough to feel all the feelings. But, for now,  I will carry on through each day, meeting expectations and helping others with their grief while I remain numb. 
For now I will be grateful for the mercy of numbness. 
Peace.
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Disconnect

Kristine Binder

Disconnection. You ever feel like you need to disconnect? You know….unplug and reset? I am am strong and have been for a long time but sometimes I get weary. I get tired of being strong. I get tired of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
We only have so much emotional bandwidth and it is all been used up….there is no more space. Other emotions that need access are getting an error message. The server can not process any more emotions as it has reached its bandwidth usage limit. The whole system is slowing down.
I have days like this, more during this time of quarantine, than even before. I ride the emotional waves but lately I have found that some days I can not handle any more input. I am on overwhelm. The constant consumption of information and comparison to others. The fleeting images and superficial comments. The criticism, negativity and judgements. It starts to eat away at the core of who I am. As an empath, I take it all personally and want to fix it all. I want everyone to be friends and help one another. Well, that is not reality. Everyone’s reality is different. Everyone carries different baggage.
We all need time to rest and recharge. Time to unplug and reset. So for today, if you are feeling that system slow down, take the time to recharge. Unplug and reset the system. Allow yourself the disconnect from everything and everyone for a bit and focus on yourself. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.
You are are strong. You deserve rest. The world will still be here when you return, renewed and refreshed. You are worth it.
Peace,
#tutulady
#forwardisapace