On a month of dizzying transitions and the simple things that steady us.
September has only 30 days, but it’s a long month.
This year, none of my September days slotted into a pattern. No two days in a row made the same shape, and no two Tuesdays echoed each other. Many days earned their own titles: The Day Our Oldest Started Middle School. The Day Our Youngest Started Kindergarten. The Day of That Medical Procedure.
In some ways, this is how it always is, just more. If you look closely, in the way meditation teachers suggest, every day is beautifully distinct. But usually, if you unfocus your eyes, the days blur, their differences smoothing over.
This month, transitions at school, at work, at home, and in the seasons all collided in a way that felt more spiky than blurry. I keep thinking of “Turn! Turn! Turn!,” which Pete Seeger wrote in 1959 by setting a passage from Ecclesiastes to music: “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven; a time to be born, a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap.” Sometimes, the words have been a comfort. Everything has its time, and no time lasts forever. But this month, the turns came close together. It’s been dizzying.
So what do I do when I feel like this? The answers are embarrassingly simple. The best things I did for my emotional health this month are the same things I’ve written about here for years.
Making. When I feel most overwhelmed and worthless, nothing counteracts that like creating something concrete and useful. It gives me a sense of competence and control. With September’s cooler weather, that’s meant turning on the oven and filling our home with the smells of recipes that are easy to get right and that my kids happily devour, like chocolate chip cookies, chocolate chip banana bread, and honey challah. The good feelings linger after the bake is done, and research suggests I’m not the only one who benefits from everyday creativity. In one study in the Journal of Positive Psychology, 658 young adults kept daily diaries for about two weeks. On days after creative activities, they felt more upbeat and more like they were flourishing.
Walking. “Take a walk to clear your head” is some of the oldest self-help advice out there. It’s irritating how well it works. When I’ve felt most frazzled this month, nothing has helped me find my center quicker than a 20-minute, fully unplugged walk to the river. As I stroll, I feel my arms swing and the wind breezes my face. I smell what there is to smell and see what there is to see. I come home to a more solid, steady version of myself. A study in PNAS offers a clue why: People who walked through nature ruminated less afterward and showed lower activity in a brain area linked to depression risk.
Connecting. When I notice my thoughts are stuck on repeat, I know I need to talk to friends and family. I’ve learned that I can’t monologue myself anywhere near to the calm I can arrive at via dialogue. This month, that’s meant calls and coffees, and, yes, shared walks. It’s not only about getting sound advice or feeling deeply heard, though it’s not not those things. There’s also power in listening closely to someone else, unhooking from my own narrow focus and showing up for the people I care about. In a study in Communication Research, college students were asked to have one quality conversation with a friend in a single day, such as catching up, listening, or showing care. By that evening, they reported feeling less stressed and more connected.
None of these are novel. None are complex. And it’s true: I cover the latest mental health research for a living, yet over eight years (this month!) of writing this blog, most of the insights I’ve used myself and shared here have ultimately been old and simple like these.
Is there nothing new under the sun?
Maybe not. But each retelling of an old truth — whether in a 2,500-year-old book, a 67-year-old song, or a freshly published post — reaches us in a new moment.
And some months, it’s just the right time to hear one again.
New From Me
In the classroom, feelings should be welcome guests, not featured guest stars.
That’s the idea behind a professional development training I led for early childhood educators on emotion regulation before the school year called “Feel Your Feels: Emotion Science to Support Dysregulated Preschoolers.” We used emotion science to explore what emotion regulation is, what it looks like in preschoolers, and how teachers can support dysregulated kids as individuals and members of a classroom community.
Learning to regulate emotions is all in a day’s work for preschoolers, and supporting them in doing it is all in their teachers’. I’m grateful to get to support the educators who are doing that work every day.
If you know a teacher or parent group that might appreciate this training, let’s talk!
One of the five studies I covered for bpHope this month is among the most comprehensive reviews of bipolar disorder treatments ever done. But that’s not all — the researchers used their results to build a free tool that helps people with bipolar disorder and their care providers find which medications to try first, based on what matters most to them. Read all about it and the other four studies here:
Bipolar Research & Insights: Treatment Tool, Drug Dosing, Exercise, and More | September 2026 (bpHope)
Book Recommendation
The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro
Does the phrase “Butler goes motoring” on a back cover make you want to immediately read a book? Ok, fair. Me neither. That’s probably why it took me so long to give Kazuo Ishiguro’s 1989 novel, Remains of the Day, a chance. While 3-year-olds may be excused for not reading a future Nobel Prize-winning author’s Booker Prize-winning book, my defensible excuses started to fade at least two decades ago. I’m so glad I finally realized I should give this one a read because it was a true literary pleasure that found me at a perfect moment.
Like all beautiful books, Remains of the Day is about so much more than it seems. Sure, our protagonist, Stevens, is a manservant who literally travels by motorcar across England during the six days of this book. But that action is just the tip of an iceberg comprised of regret, dignity, class, politics, change, work, duty, connection, love, and what constitutes a life well lived.
Browse more books on my Bookshop | Read more reviews on my Goodreads
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