It’s a weekday morning and I’m sipping coffee, scanning my calendar for my meetings today, preparing my work, swimming in a slog of newsletters, flipping between tabs open to current events in our very anxious, uncertain world, and trying to start my day with a deep breath.

​Yet I keep thinking: Why does this feel so hard?

I know I don’t have to know it all right now. I’m taking another breath, remembering the words I wrote a couple years ago.

I’ll acknowledge the obvious: The world is a scary place.

The pandemic alone brought mental health issues to an all-time high — nearly 41% of U.S. adults experienced “psychological distress” during the pandemic, and since then, it’s been a rolling collection of additional anxieties.

There are political upheavals, cultural shifts, and other changes happening every day, every hour, that feel uncertain.

Thousands are losing their jobs in America, particularly dedicated civil servants.

Diversity, equity, and inclusion practices are being chopped and impacting the future of higher education, government enterprise, and beyond.

The identities of millions are being challenged politically.

And in between, those of us working in the digital space — websites, development, digital marketing, etc. — are trying to keep up on how to do our jobs and do them well. At least well enough to cut through the noise. At least well enough to help the person on the other side of the screen, whoever that may be and whatever they may need.

As I’ve been combing through the news, I find myself getting depressed, anxious, angry. I don’t have a lot of influence individually of what I can change but I can join voices in my community, write letters to my representatives, and keep voting for the values that align with me and protect others.

In your circle of influence, you can control your health, your mind, and how you show up for those around you. Focus on that and try to remember you’re Just Human.

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been around for a long time. In truth, we’ve used it in many forms over the years, from search engines to our phone voice assistants and more.

But to my rattled brain, it feels like I woke up one morning and AI was everywhere and it was the only way forward to do our job, and gosh darnit if we don’t use it, we’re in trouble.

One day I was just a content strategist, humming along, doing what I’ve done for 15 years. And then suddenly I need a robot to do it better. Yet some research tells us using AI makes us lonelier and makes work less enjoyable in some ways.

Don’t get me wrong: AI has its place. I’ve found it incredibly useful for content editing, tightening, formatting content for HTML.

But it’s new and I’m learning. So that’s OK, right?

Apparently not. The speed at which AI is adopted and expected to be used is quite frankly, startling. Browse any job listing on LinkedIn and you’ll see AI and AI tools as part of the requirements for job.

My advice: Learn what you want, at the pace that’s comfortable. You can’t learn it all today, or tomorrow. You can only learn a little bit at a time.

Remember learning to read? Me neither. But I can assure you it wasn’t in a day or two. It took years. Just like learning to write in cursive took practice. And riding my bike took some falls.

It took time and patience. We have the right to exercise that now, as grown-ups. So take your time. Say to yourself, “Let me try,” and dismiss the voice over your shoulder or in your head telling you to go faster.

Hear me out: In a world that’s so deadly serious (no pun intended), it seems we’re bringing that heaviness into how we do our work.

One thing you’ll never hear me call my work as a content strategist: Referring to it as a vocation. While I love the work I do, it’s not all I’m meant to be.

I like to tell people: I work to make websites better. The end. I do that by:

• talking to real people
• unearthing challenges and opportunities
• employing useful, approachable strategies to make user experience better
• building website navigation and architecture that connects pages and information in meaningful ways
• teaching accessibility, inclusionary content, and the value of making information easy to read and understand for all people

​There’s more, of course, but you get the gist. And I’m one tiny fish in a sea of people who do this and do it well.

But a quick scan of my inbox newsletters, LinkedIn posts, any other articles about user experience, and you’ll be bombarded with a five alarm fire of what we all need to be doing better, pushing harder, hustling, self-publishing, and learning All The Things.

A quick tip: You don’t have to run a four-minute mile. Take your time. Time a breath. Walk, don’t run. Focus on what you do well, and identify things you want to learn now, and make time to practice them. Don’t drown in the overload.

Do something with me. Stop reading, stop thinking. Follow this instruction:

Close your eyes.
Take a deep breath in.
Count to four.
Hold for a count of three.
Release for a count of four.

In…1, 2, 3, 4…
hold…
Out…1, 2, 3, 4…

We’re trying to keep up: At work, at home, everywhere in between. There are chores to be done, tasks to be completed, people to stay in touch with, events to attend, and somehow still need to squeeze in a restful night’s sleep.

We’re going too fast and too hard.

As I recognize this in myself, I’ve been exercising the right to say ‘no’ to things I can’t prioritize. I’ve been putting my phone down and in another room so I can pick up my embroidery or crochet hook and do something analog.

I make time at the end of the night to put the dishes away, tidy the living room, clear my office desk.

And I’ve been making time for the people and things that make time for me, who reach out and say “Let’s get together and have a laugh.”

And for goodness sake, please find a way to laugh.

That alone may be a tall order in a world of chaos right now. But as the great Kurt Vonnegut once said, “I’d rather laugh than cry. There’s less cleaning up to do afterward.”

Slow down. When you have a moment of free time, don’t ask what you should be doing. Ask what you want to do.

And at the end of the day, pat yourself on the back. “You made it another day,” you can say quietly to your rattled brain as you wind down for the evening. “Good job, you.”