Finding the balance (again) when everything feels too much.


Dear Reader,

This week, I've found myself navigating a bumpy personal landscape. And it got me reflecting on the delicate, ongoing dance of carrying the weight of the world while still allowing ourselves to live fully within it.

How do we notice the pain, suffering, and unfairness in the world without letting it completely dampen or strip away our permission to experience the joyful, frivolous, beautiful parts of life?

And on the flip side, how do we avoid shutting that pain out so much that it stays unprocessed and unfelt—only to leak out later as sudden overwhelm, a low hum of anxiety, or snapping at the people we love most?

I’ll be honest with you: I have experienced both of these extremes just in the last week.

And I've found it particularly tricky to navigate. But what I am remembering—or perhaps relearning—is that there is no perfect, static formula for this. There isn’t a single technique or balance point that we can find once and use repeatedly.

Our internal landscape shifts constantly. What you needed yesterday, or last month, to feel regulated and contained might not be what is required today.

Finding our footing isn’t a destination; it’s a constant dialogue. It’s a frequent, gentle tuning-in to notice and honour exactly what is coming up in the present moment, without judgment.

So, as we head into the weekend and the change of pace that the school holidays may bring to some, I invite you to check in with your own landscape:

  • If you notice your nerves are a little fried as the school holiday routine begins, notice that.
  • If you planned something social for the weekend, but your body is nudging you to curl up with a book at home instead, look at that.

Listen to those signals. Try not to suppress, ignore, or push through them because you "should." Instead, seek to understand what they are trying to communicate to you. And then, as best as you can, honour them. Honour you.

We don't have to choose between being deeply feeling humans and being happy ones. We can hold space for both.

With love and warmth,

Zac ♥

Dr Zac Elizabeth Buchanan | Clinical Psychologist
The Return | Upcoming Events
drzacelizabeth.com @dr.zacelizabeth

1/66 Whitehorse Road, Deepdene, VIC 3103
Unsubscribe · Preferences

Dr Zac Elizabeth Buchanan

Welcome to The Return - a place to learn deep rest, unravel old patterns, trust your intuition, and connect authentically with a community of women also treading the path home to themselves. Sign up to hear about upcoming offerings, including women's circles, workshop series and retreats.

Read more from Dr Zac Elizabeth Buchanan

Dear Reader, It has been two weeks since I last landed in your inbox. I’ve been away for one of those weeks, and my focus shifted entirely to my kids while they were on school holidays. If you've ever navigated the holiday shift, you know it isn't necessarily an easier time. For me, it required adapting to a completely different rhythm of life, accepting what cannot be controlled, and constantly reminding myself to be gentle with myself as stress levels—and sibling rivalry—inevitably...

Dear Reader, Last night, as we sat in circle for the third week of our current workshop series, the space felt raw and tender. There was a collective awakening as the group shared that they were beginning to truly notice and name the different parts of themselves. But sitting right alongside that awareness was a heavy exhaustion. We talked about how we are still stretching ourselves thin, and how hard it can feel to actually say "no" in the moments that matter most—blocked by a myriad of old...

Dear Reader, A few weeks ago, I shared some thoughts about the heavy blueprints and external "shoulds" we carry—the rules and expectations that cloud our true voice and make us feel like we constantly need to ensure everyone around us is cared for and contained. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what happens when we choose to pause and look beneath all that noise. I’m a huge fan of analogies and the one that comes to mind is the ocean. On the surface, the waves can swish, churn, and chop. The...