relationships > Work & Worry

At some point, you just get tired.

Tired of the outrage cycle.
Tired of the constant urgency.
Tired of feeling like if you don’t react to every headline, every opinion, every cultural moment, you’re somehow failing.

The political drama keeps performing. Red. Blue. Donkey. Elephant. The stage lights never turn off. The script keeps changing. And we’re all invited and almost expected to respond on cue.

But one day you step back and realize something: This is going to keep going. It’s a tale as old as time and politicians 1) don’t have as much power as we think they do 2) don’t actually care about making this world a better more lovely place for our children 3) will be gone in the blink of an eye only to be replaced by the next actor (politician)

Most of us are just plain exhausted, not because we’re changing the world, but because we’re trying to carry it.

When I really looked at my own life, I noticed something uncomfortable. I’m not spending most of my time “engaging in culture.”

I’m working.

And I’m worrying.

Working long hours, thinking about work when I’m not at work, strategizing about the future.
Worrying about the economy.
Worrying about my kids.
Worrying about retirement.
Worrying about what might happen next.

Work and worry.

If we’re honest, that’s where most of our mental and emotional energy lives.

Look at your calendar. It’s packed with meetings, deadlines, appointments, obligations. Then look at your inner world. It’s full of to-do lists, what-ifs, worst-case scenarios, conversations you’re replaying in your head.

We call it responsibility, or maybe just adulthood…we have to be prepared, right? 

But somewhere along the way, work and worry quietly became the main characters… and relationships got pushed into supporting roles.

Date night (if nothing comes up).
Coffee with a friend (if we’re not exhausted).
Family dinner (if everyone’s schedule magically aligns).

We’ve structured our lives around productivity and anxiety — and then we try to squeeze connection into whatever is left. And it’s costing us more than we realize.

What if we flipped that?

What if relationships were the fixed points?

What if dinner with your family was non-negotiable?
What if a weekly walk with a friend was protected?
What if you put your phone in another room and were fully there with your kids?
What if generosity and hospitality weren’t “when things calm down”… but part of the rhythm?

The truth is, most of what we work for and worry about is temporary. Jobs change. Economies fluctuate. Political seasons rise and fall.

But the way we loved,  or didn’t love,  the people right in front of us?

That’s what echoes. That’s our legacy, good or bad. 

The hours you spent worrying won’t be the stories your children tell. The nights you sat around the table laughing will. And here’s something I’ve had to learn the hard way:

Worry is not the same thing as love. (Even if we do joke with my mom that Worry is her love language.)

Yet, We act like it is.

If I’m stressed, I must care.
If I’m exhausted, I must be committed.
If I’m anxious, I must be responsible.

But you can care deeply without living in constant alarm. You can be informed without being inflamed.
You can plan for the future without sacrificing the present.

Maybe the most countercultural thing you could do right now isn’t argue louder or hustle harder.

Maybe it’s love better.

Host dinner. Check in on a friend. Forgive quickly. Give generously. Meet new people instead of drawing lines in the sand.

You don’t have to participate in every fight you’re invited to. You don’t have to carry every global issue in your nervous system. You are allowed to choose your people.

So here’s the challenge: Open your calendar this week.

Where is connection?
Where is joy?
Where are the people you say matter most?

If work and worry fill every square, don’t shame yourself. Just shift one thing.

Replace 30 minutes of scrolling with a phone call. Block off one evening as untouchable family time.
Schedule that walk you’ve been meaning to take. Invite someone over — even if your house isn’t perfect.

Small shifts create new rhythms. And over time, those rhythms change your life.

Love is not a distraction from real life. It is real life.

Work will always be there. The next controversy will always be there. The next reason to worry will show up right on time.

But this dinner, this conversation, this season with your people? It won’t.

Flip the script. Turn your calendar upside down. Let relationships lead.

XXOO, Jeanna