Plans Interrupted: The Lesson I Didn’t Expect

Have you ever gone looking for one thing and ended up finding something completely different?

That has happened to me more than once. I once moved through a breakup convinced I knew what I needed, only to realize later that the real lesson was about self-worth, not the relationship. And there have been smaller moments, like getting lost on a drive and discovering a place that meant more to me than my original destination.

Recently, another lesson found me in a much simpler—and slightly more annoying—way.

I went to the park hoping for quiet. I wanted to meditate, clear my head, and listen to that inner voice that can be difficult to hear when life gets noisy.

I found a peaceful spot, closed my eyes, and prepared for stillness.

Buzz.

A fly.

I waved it away and tried again.

Buzz.

There it was, circling my head.

At first, I was annoyed. Seriously? I came all the way out here for peace.

Then it occurred to me:

Wait a minute. I’m in the fly’s house.

I was the visitor.

I had entered this outdoor space with my own agenda—quiet, peaceful, restorative—and somehow decided everything around me needed to cooperate.

That made me laugh, but it also made me think.

How often do we decide how something is supposed to go, and when life doesn’t cooperate, label whatever disrupts our plans an interruption?

We resist it. Fight it. Try to make it disappear.

But what if some of the things that keep “buzzing” deserve our attention?

Maybe it’s exhaustion we keep pushing through. A conversation we need to have. Grief we think we should be “over.” A relationship pattern that keeps repeating. Or a dream we keep talking ourselves out of.

That doesn’t mean every uncomfortable feeling carries a profound message. Sometimes a fly is just a fly.

But when something repeatedly gets our attention, perhaps it’s worth becoming curious before trying to silence it.

Instead of asking, How do I make this stop? try asking:

What am I actually feeling?

Is this a moment or a pattern?

What might this be pointing toward?

Sometimes the answer is rest. Sometimes it’s a boundary, a difficult conversation, asking for help, or simply acknowledging, This matters to me.

Eventually, I stopped fighting the fly. I accepted that I was sharing the space with it and returned my attention to the moment.

And then something beautiful happened.

Two large butterflies appeared and seemed to dance right before my eyes.

Maybe they had been there all along. Maybe they had just arrived. Either way, I was finally still enough to notice them.

And perhaps that was the lesson I hadn’t expected:

Acceptance didn’t make the interruption disappear. It changed what I was able to see.

Peace doesn’t always require everything around us to behave the way we want. Sometimes it comes when we stop fighting the moment we’re in long enough to notice what else it holds.

So this month, I’m asking:

What keeps buzzing in my life?

Maybe there’s something buzzing in yours too.

You don’t have to fix it or figure it all out today.

Just become curious enough to listen—and open enough to notice what else might be right in front of you.

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This month’s theme: “What Keeps Buzzing? Learning to Listen to What You Can’t Ignore.”

Remember: Sometimes when we stop resisting what’s buzzing, we finally become still enough to notice the butterflies. 🦋

Are You Choosing the Love You Want to Live?

How did we get to July already?

Every year, I tell myself I’ll slow down and be more intentional. Then somehow, I blink, and we’re halfway through the year.

Maybe you can relate.

By this point, it’s easy to start thinking about everything we haven’t done. The goals that quietly faded away. The habits we meant to build. The relationships we’ve wanted to invest in “when life calms down.”

If you’re anything like me, life rarely seems to calm down on its own.

That’s why I love this time of year. Not because it’s a chance to judge ourselves, but because it’s a chance to pause.

Instead of asking, “How am I doing?” maybe we should ask something even more important:

“What am I choosing?”

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the movie Love Jones. On the surface, it’s a love story. But underneath, I think it’s really about timing, fear, vulnerability, and the choices we make when love feels risky.

Darius and Nina have chemistry from the very beginning. That’s never really the problem.

The challenge is whether they’re willing to be honest, let go of old fears, and choose each other when things aren’t simple anymore.

Isn’t that true for so many relationships?

We often spend so much time looking for certainty that we forget relationships are built in uncertainty.

Not because we always know the right thing to do.

But because we keep choosing to show up.

I’ve learned as a therapist that the healthiest couples aren’t the ones who never disappoint each other.

They’re the ones who keep coming back to the table.

They apologize.

They stay curious.

They laugh together.

They repair after conflict.

And maybe most importantly, they choose each other in hundreds of ordinary moments that no one else ever sees.

The same is true for the relationship we have with ourselves.

Sometimes choosing real love looks like finally giving yourself permission to rest.

Sometimes it means speaking to yourself with a little more kindness.

Sometimes it means saying “no” without apologizing for having limits.

Sometimes it means asking for help instead of pretending you’ve got everything under control.

Those choices may seem small.

They’re not.

Small choices become habits.

Habits become character.

And character shapes every relationship we have.

That’s why I don’t think July needs to be about making a dramatic comeback or reinventing yourself before the year is over.

I think it’s about becoming just a little more intentional.

Maybe your next choice is sending the text you’ve been putting off.

Maybe it’s putting your phone down during dinner.

Maybe it’s taking a walk with your spouse.

Maybe it’s calling a friend.

Maybe it’s extending grace to yourself after a difficult season.

Whatever it is, don’t underestimate it.

Real love rarely arrives all at once.

It’s built one conversation…

One apology…

One act of kindness…

One brave choice at a time.

So here’s the question I’ve been asking myself this month, and maybe it’s one worth asking yourself too:

If I wanted the second half of this year to feel different, what is one loving choice I could make today?

Not next month.

Not when life gets easier.

Today.

Because the story of this year hasn’t been written yet.

And just like every great movie, some of the most meaningful moments happen in the second half.

If this month’s reflection resonated with you, I’d love to invite you to subscribe to the free Blockbuster Love Monthly newsletter. Each month, we use movies, psychology, and real-life relationships to explore what it really takes to build lasting love. And if you’re looking for your next summer read, my Blockbuster Love books dive even deeper into the lessons our favorite films can teach us about creating relationships that thrive long after the credits roll.

When Strong Becomes Exhausted

June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month, and it offers an important reminder: even the people who seem strongest can become exhausted.

We often admire the person who keeps going no matter what. The one who takes care of everyone else, handles responsibilities without complaint, and shows up when others need them. Whether it’s a partner, parent, friend, caregiver, or provider, strength is often measured by how much someone can carry.

But what happens when the strong one is struggling?

Many people—especially men—have been taught that strength means pushing through, staying in control, never crying and handling problems alone. Over time, that mindset can make it difficult to recognize when stress, loneliness, disappointment, or grief have taken their toll.

Burnout doesn’t always look dramatic. Often, it shows up quietly as irritability, withdrawal, overworking, difficulty relaxing, trouble sleeping, feeling disconnected from loved ones, or simply moving through life on autopilot.

One of the reasons I chose the film You, Me & Tuscany as inspiration for this month’s Summer Reset theme is because of Michael’s story. On the surface, Michael appears capable, dependable, and successful. He is the one who has it together. The responsible one. The one others can count on.

Yet beneath that strength is a man carrying loss.

Throughout the film, we learn that Michael is grieving the deaths of his parents while also navigating disappointment in his romantic life. Like many people, he continues functioning, working, and showing up for others while carrying emotional pain that is largely invisible.

As a therapist, I found myself curious about another layer of Michael’s story as well. Michael was adopted into a family that does not physically look like him. Even though there is a biological connection mentioned, outsiders looking in would not think they were related. While the movie doesn’t deeply explore that experience, I couldn’t help but wonder what weight he may have carried over the years related to identity, belonging, expectations, or feeling the need to prove himself.

Sometimes when people spend years trying to fit in, earn approval, or avoid disappointing others, they become exceptionally responsible. They learn to be dependable. They become the problem-solvers. The caretakers. The strong ones.

And while those qualities can be admirable, they often come with a cost.

I also wondered whether some of Michael’s tension with Matteo reflected more than simple personality differences or jealousy. Family relationships are complicated, especially when grief, old wounds, and unspoken expectations are involved. Sometimes conflict isn’t just about what’s happening in the present moment. It’s connected to years of experiences, roles, and responsibilities that quietly shape how we see ourselves and one another.

That experience is more common than we often acknowledge.

Many men receive messages that encourage achievement, responsibility, and resilience but offer little guidance on processing grief, loneliness, rejection, or emotional pain. As a result, they may continue showing up for everyone else while becoming increasingly disconnected from themselves.

The truth is that emotional wellness isn’t just about avoiding a crisis. It’s about paying attention before exhaustion becomes overwhelming.

That’s why I love the idea of a summer reset.

A reset doesn’t require a plane ticket to Tuscany or a complete life overhaul. More often, it begins with small acts of reconnection: taking a walk without rushing, spending time with people who feel safe, having an honest conversation, setting healthier boundaries, or simply admitting, “I’m tired.”

This conversation isn’t only for men. It’s for anyone who has become so focused on being strong that they’ve forgotten how to receive support.

As we move into summer, consider this question:

Have you been surviving, or have you been living?

If you’ve been carrying more than anyone realizes, perhaps your reset begins here.

Not by trying harder.

Not by pushing through.

But by giving yourself permission to rest, grieve, reconnect, and remember that even the strongest people deserve support too.

The Quiet Loss of Self

Sometimes, losing yourself doesn’t happen dramatically.

It happens quietly.

You slowly become more agreeable to avoid conflict. More productive to feel worthy. More emotionally guarded to avoid disappointment. More focused on keeping everyone comfortable than understanding what you actually need.

And over time, you wake up feeling disconnected from yourself without fully understanding why.

In my 20’s and 30’s, I struggled with this. I had been conditioned to falsly believe that my worth was soley based on production. And that acceptance from others only came by ignoring my needs.

Many people silently shape-shift in relationships, workplaces, friendships, or family dynamics in order to keep the peace, earn approval, or feel enough. At first, it can feel responsible, loving, ambitious, or mature. But constantly adapting to external expectations can slowly affect mental health, emotional well-being, and identity.

That’s one reason the film The Devil Wears Prada resonates on a deeper emotional level. Andy’s transformation is not only about fashion or career success. It’s about how easy it is to lose connection with yourself when validation, pressure, and performance begin shaping your decisions.

As Andy becomes immersed in Miranda’s demanding world, the people closest to her notice changes in how she shows up emotionally, what she prioritizes, and who she is becoming. She gains approval, recognition, and status, but at the cost of feeling increasingly disconnected from the parts of herself that once grounded her.

Many people experience this same struggle outside of the workplace.

We silence our needs to avoid tension. We over-give to feel valuable. We become who we think others need us to be because rejection, disappointment, or disapproval feels emotionally unsafe. We convince ourselves we’re “just being flexible,” while quietly carrying anxiety, exhaustion, resentment, loneliness, or emotional numbness underneath the surface.

Mental health is deeply relational. The environments we stay in and the relationships we nurture shape how safe, accepted, and emotionally grounded we feel. When we constantly feel pressure to perform instead of simply existing authentically, emotional burnout often follows.

The good news is that reconnecting with yourself is possible.

Not perfectly. Not overnight. But intentionally and courageously.

Here are a few gentle ways to begin reconnecting with yourself again:

1. Notice where you perform instead of express.

Pay attention to the moments when you automatically say “yes,” over-explain yourself, minimize your feelings, or become who you think others expect you to be. Often, the quiet loss of self begins with small compromises repeated over time. Awareness is the first step toward change.

2. Practice honest self-check-ins.

Pause long enough to ask yourself:
What do I actually need right now?
What emotions have I been avoiding?
Do I feel emotionally safe being myself in this environment?
Many people become so focused on managing everyone else’s comfort that they stop listening to their own emotional needs.

3. Separate your worth from approval.

Approval can feel comforting, but it should not become the foundation of your identity. Your value is not determined by productivity, perfection, people-pleasing, or how useful you are to others. Real self-worth grows when you learn to value yourself even when everyone is not applauding.

4. Build relationships that allow authenticity.

Healthy relationships make room for honesty, boundaries, imperfection, emotional safety, and growth. You should not have to abandon yourself to belong. Healthy relationships will not require constant performance to maintain a connection.

5. Give yourself permission to evolve.

Sometimes, becoming healthier disappoints old expectations. Sometimes growth changes relationship dynamics. And sometimes healing means learning that peace is not the same thing as self-abandonment. Growth often requires courage before it creates comfort.

If you’ve been feeling emotionally exhausted, disconnected from yourself, or unsure of who you’ve become lately, you are not alone. Many people quietly struggle under the pressure to adapt, perform, and hold everything together.

But healing often begins with one honest question:

Who am I becoming?

And perhaps an even more important one:

Do I recognize myself in the process?

If this topic resonated with you, you may enjoy the free Blockbuster Love Monthly newsletter, where we explore relationships, emotional wellness, mental health, and personal growth through film-inspired insights and therapeutic reflection.

And for a deeper exploration of what happens after fantasy fades and real growth begins, Blockbuster Love: Lessons from the Movies on How to Create Lasting Love — Part 2: Reality offers practical and encouraging insights into communication, conflict, identity, and lasting love in the real world.