02/10/2026
It’s a couch, Amyee.
It was 10:30 PM on a Tuesday night.
My son was quite literally doing backflips over our new couch, and I was beyond exhausted.
These beloved couches were the ones I had in Alaska—ones I had ordered TWO FREAKIN’ MONTHS AGO, arriving many hours after they were supposed to.
Getting my son to sleep amidst the noise of assembly was a lost cause, and as I came upstairs to sign off, I saw it: the pillows and cushions, flat and lifeless. The material not at all what I expected.
In my exhausted and quite dysregulated state, I was convinced I had been scammed. Again.
THIS WAS NOT WHAT I ORDERED, FOR F’S SAKE.
I had made the wrong choice. I felt stupid, naïve, frustrated…
So, of course, I started crying.
Quite hard—big alligator tears rolling down my face—as the quiet and kind Hispanic man in front of me (probably already freaked out to be in a single woman’s home late at night) softly and gently asked if there was anything he could do.
Probably wondering why I was crying over couches.
Because it wasn’t actually about the couches.
It was about my system needing comfort and familiarity after months of tension and rising violence in our country.
It was about being a woman who holds all the things all the time, and just wanting to rest into something I know.
And it was also in this place that I realized the lens I was seeing things through was one of dysregulation, while judging myself, my privilege and my response.
I coached myself to sleep on it.
Rest first, babe. Rest first.
When I woke up the next morning, I saw that the pillows and cushions had fully inflated. LOL. Of course they had. They had been cold and collapsed for transport. Duhhhhh. I remembered the kindness of strangers, and the safety they provided—especially when I wasn’t feeling safe within myself.
In my dysregulated, under-resourced place, all I could see was what was wrong. The story I told myself was that I had been ripped off. The emotions, the lens I was seeing the world through, were fear-based, negative, and worst-case scenario.
While the couch cushions shifted, so did the state of my nervous system.
When we are tired, overwhelmed, and under-resourced, our brain will look for danger. It will tell stories that feel real, convincing, and urgent.
Sometimes, the kindest and most gentle thing we can do for ourselves in this place (when we are not actually under threat, to be clear) is to
Pause
Rest.
Breathe.
Feel.
Connect.
And come back to reevaluate—from a lens of clarity, connection, and regulation