Is Everyone Just Super Emotional Lately?

Trying to stay soft in a culture that’s constantly screaming.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been crying at the end of my workouts. Dramatic emotional release after the final stretch.

Not because of anything major—just because I feel everything right now. Deeply. Quickly. Loudly. And everyone around me seems to be doing the same.

People are yelling at each other in coffee shops. Couples are fighting on sidewalks. My group texts are full of people in near meltdowns over the smallest things. It’s like the world is one big nervous system stuck in high-alert.

And it’s not just vibes—it’s everything.

The news. The hormones. The post-surgical recovery (hi, it’s me). The tariff chaos. The groupthink. The never-ending pings.

It’s all so much.

After my endometriosis surgery, I thought I’d bounce back fast. I didn’t. My recovery was slower, deeper, and more emotionally disorienting than I anticipated. Then, just as I started to feel a bit more like myself, bam: chaos in the headlines, stress on all fronts, and a thousand urgent things pulling my energy in different directions.

I found myself in what I call a functional freeze. Still doing the things—working, responding, performing—but underneath it all, frozen. Some days, full freeze. Just sitting on the couch for hours playing on my phone. Waiting for life to feel normal again. For my body to feel grounded. For the world to stop shouting.

That hasn’t happened.

So this week instead of waiting for peace to arrive, I’m trying to create it—tiny piece by tiny piece.

I’ve even been carving out space for actual hobbies again—needlepoint, specifically. I love it. There’s something meditative and restorative about stitching one tiny X at a time. It slows my breath. It pulls me out of my phone and back into my body. And honestly, when did we all stop having hobbies? When did the joy of doing something just for the doing of it become so rare?

When do we even have time for hobbies anymore? Who is really tending to their garden all day? Nobody. And that’s part of the issue, I think.

We’ve confused productivity with meaning. But hobbies are meaning, too. They remind us we’re more than what we produce. That joy and softness and beauty are worth making space for.

So I’m letting myself come back to what feels grounding. And weirdly enough, I think that starts here. With this newsletter. With routine. With sitting down once a week to write something honest, personal, and maybe even helpful.

Because routine feels good.

It’s not rigid or punishing—it’s comforting. It’s rhythmic. It tells your body, you’re safe here.

Right now, health—for me—is less about optimization and more about orientation. Where can I find my feet again? Where can I land?

This newsletter is one of those places.

If you’ve also been weepy or irritable or weirdly emotional lately, I hope you know it’s not just you.

The world is a lot right now.

You’re not too sensitive. You’re not too dramatic. You’re responding to your environment like a healthy human being.

We’re back on Sundays starting this week.

I’m going to write about all of it—fatigue, sleep, hormones, inflammation, sunscreen (yes), and everything in between. Because somehow, everything really is wellness now.

Talk soon,
Lo