There’s this moment that happens when life throws something big at you—like losing a job—and for a few seconds, it feels like the ground gives out. Then, almost instantly, your brain starts spinning in a hundred directions. Mine did, at least. It went straight from “Oh no” to “We’re all going to live under a bridge, surviving on Goldfish crackers and Capri Suns.”
I’m dramatic. I know. But that’s how my brain works when things feel out of control.
When I first heard the word unemployment connected to us, I felt that tight, sinking panic in my chest. It wasn’t just about money; it was about identity, security, control. I wanted to fix everything instantly. But somewhere between Nico’s snack demands and Anthony’s endless “why” questions, I realized I needed to slow down. Or I’d spin myself right off the planet.
So, I made a checklist. Not the kind with spreadsheets and financial calculators (though maybe one day). This was more like a mental survival kit—my personal “talk myself down” guide.
1. Breathe before spiraling.
My first instinct is to sprint straight to worst-case scenarios. It’s like my anxiety has a GPS route labeled “total disaster.” But I’ve learned to stop myself, even if it’s mid-panic. I literally say out loud, “We are safe right now.” It sounds silly, but those words pull me back to the present. Miami sun still shining, kids still laughing, coffee still hot (or lukewarm, close enough). Life hasn’t ended—it’s just shifting.
2. Feel it—then move.
I used to think I had to stay positive all the time, but that’s exhausting. Sometimes you have to cry, scream into a pillow, stomp around a little. Then get up and wash your face. I always tell myself, you can have a moment, but you don’t live there.
3. Talk about it (even when I don’t want to).
Rex and I are both fixers by nature, which means we tend to suffer in silence until one of us finally cracks. But there’s something grounding about saying it out loud—“This is scary. I don’t know what’s next.” Once it’s out there, it loses a little bit of its power. Plus, he’s annoyingly good at finding silver linings.
4. Focus on what’s still steady.
Even when everything feels uncertain, there are always a few anchors. The boys still need dinner. The ocean still smells like salt and sunscreen. My dad still calls every Sunday to ask if I’ve checked the oil in my car (no, I have not). Those little consistencies remind me that the world hasn’t fallen apart—it just looks different right now.
5. Make small wins count.
There’s this voice that says, “You should be doing more.” Ignore it. The day I filled out one application and didn’t cry afterward, I counted that as a win. The day I took the kids to the park and didn’t check my phone for an hour—another win. Tiny steps, but they keep you moving forward instead of getting stuck in the “what ifs.”
6. Laugh anyway.
You know what’s weird? Life doesn’t stop being funny, even when it’s hard. The boys don’t care that I’m stressed—they just want me to admire their latest LEGO creation that looks suspiciously like a pile of bricks. The other day, Anthony announced he was going to “get a job” so he could buy me ice cream. It was the sweetest, dumbest, most perfect thing. And for a second, everything felt okay.
I think that’s the secret—remembering that okay still exists, even when everything’s uncertain. The checklist doesn’t make the stress disappear, but it keeps me from drowning in it.
Somewhere in the chaos of job searches, budget talks, and midnight worry sessions, I’ve found little moments that remind me we’ll be fine. Maybe not the same, but fine. Stronger, even.
And if all else fails, I’ve got this mental picture I keep coming back to: sitting on the beach with the boys, toes in the sand, Miami breeze on my face, thinking, We made it through that one, too.
Maybe that’s what “talking myself down” really means—reminding myself that I’ve survived worse, that we’ll figure this out, and that life keeps going. Even through the messy parts. Especially through the messy parts.