From One Tired Person to Another

Tired people have been showing up at Community Happens Here lately.

And I’m one of them.

Don't worry, I'm sleeping 7-8 hours each night. I'm keeping the rhythms and routines that have always brought me energy. And still, at the end of the day, my battery is drained. Something about this year has me worn out.

I don't think I'm alone in that. And I don't think we're stuck, either.

Across the country, the numbers tell a similar story. According to multiple American Psychiatric Association studies, American adults are feeling more anxious and overwhelmed than they used to. We're a nation that's being stretched thin, and many of us feel it in our bones.

There are reasons for this. Big, structural, cultural ones. We are living through a period of enormous transition. The political and cultural ground beneath us shifts almost daily. Artificial intelligence is reshaping how we work, learn, and relate to each other. The pace of modern life is accelerating. And the quiet moments keep getting harder to find.

So we cope the best we can.

Over the past month, I've rewatched every single Bourne movie. Twice. I also downloaded Farmville. (Though I recently deleted it because it was soaking up too much of my time and attention.)

The truth is, the thing that actually helps me isn't on a screen. It's a folding chair, a cup of coffee, and a neighbor I didn't expect to see. But I'll get to that.

My therapist used to encourage me to imagine that everyone's doing the best they can with the skills they have. That empathetic reframe's never rung more true. In these tumultuous moments, I'm convinced we're all trying to hold on in the rapidly shifting world we're in. We're doing what we can to keep our sanity.

If you've found yourself reaching for the screen, the snack, or the scroll more than you'd like, there's no need to get down on yourself. It's completely human. Perhaps you'll allow me to gently remind you of something you already know. Something we all know deep down, even when we forget it.

Relationships are restorative.

92% of adults recognize relationships as a key source of meaning in their lives. And the social science backs them up. The Harvard Study of Adult Development, the longest-running study of human happiness ever conducted, has followed participants for more than 85 years. Its conclusion, after nearly nine decades of data, is remarkably simple: Good relationships are what keep us happier and healthier across the course of a life. Not wealth. Not fame. Not professional achievement.

Relationships.

Even in the middle of all this noise and strain, people know that connection is what makes life worth living. We just don't always know how to get back to it.

That's where conversation comes in.

At Community Happens Here, we call it Sidewalk Hospitality. But the name is less important than the practice. It's the simple, radical idea that showing up for your neighbors, that being willing to be known and to know others, is not a small thing. It is, in fact, everything. It's how we defend our humanity in inhumane (and increasingly inhuman) times.

Connection is what makes us human, together.

But I'll be honest with you, there are Saturday mornings when I wouldn't show up to Sidewalk Hospitality if I didn't need to be there to support our teen leaders. I wake up sore. I press the snooze button. Life feels too full.

Here's what I've learned: Every single time I show up, I'm grateful that I did.

Because once I'm here, something shifts. I get to make art along the sidewalk. I chat with someone from the neighborhood. I sit in the sun and sip some coffee. Somehow, something about that restores me.

I know this isn't everyone's job. But I do think it's what everyone deeply needs.

Whether it happens at Sidewalk Hospitality or on your own front porch. At a happy hour or a coffee shop. We all need a place where we can slow down, show up, and let ourselves be found by the people around us.

So if your life is feeling full, consider this your invitation to put down your phone, walk outside, and find someone to talk to. Or to stop by Sidewalk Hospitality and commiserate with me this Saturday.

I'll be here. With coffee.

The world will still be loud and demanding when we're done. But for a few moments, we'll have practiced being human with each other.

That practice is how we stay tender.

That practice is how we keep going.