Thawing

after the freeze, a look back

On January 20th, 2025, the United States got a new president, and I stopped writing.

That wasn’t the plan, mind you.

I had plans to keep going. I mean, I’ve spent 30 years teaching the Holocaust and a handful as a certified life coach. I’ve recorded over 150 podcast episodes. I planned on rising to the moment. Helping people find their footing in a shifting world. Offering comfort at a time of fear.

Instead, I stopped writing.

Not completely. I still recorded my weekly podcast – no small feat, for sure. But I stopped sending emails to my community, stopped posting on social media, and my substack remained a “coming soon”.

I was in a freeze.

And the constant barrage of news kept me feeling activated, on alert.

I’m grateful that we’re talking more openly now about the ways we respond to threats with fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. Often those nervous system activations are really clear – our heart pounds in a meeting with our boss; we feel attacked when our spouse challenges us and we verbally lash out.

But sometimes, it’s not quite as obvious. Given that I continued to function in my various roles, and given that I continued to record my podcast, it wasn’t obvious to me that I was in a freeze.

But looking back, I realize I was.

So much we can only see when we look back – and that’s one thing that felt harder this year.

Every day of the past year started with, “What now?” The pace of the news has kept my nervous system in perpetual crisis.

I took care of my nervous system in all kinds of ways last year; it’s what let me keep showing up in all the ways I did. But the rest of it took time. It has taken me almost a full year to feel ready to start writing again and to post on social media.

Rather than rushing it, I worked on being patient and trusting that I’d find my voice again. That I’d know when I was ready.

And it’s from that place that I want to ask: What in your life needs time right now?

Very often, self development focuses on agency, on doing. It can be so powerful to see our ability to decide, to enact, to make the things we want happen. But many things also take time.

We can plant the tomato seeds, but we’re not in charge of when they bloom.

We can read all the parenting books but we can’t make our kids’ brains develop faster.

We can choose a medication, but it may take months before we feel its effects.

Given our cultural preference for action, is it any wonder that we don’t trust the waiting? How do we know when we’re waiting and when we’re just avoiding?

The truth is: we just decide.

We’re waiting for the tomatoes because we believe they will grow.

We’re patient with our kids’ brains because we believe they are developing.

We’re often willing to let medication build up in our system before we decide about it.

So are you waiting for greater clarity or avoiding making a decision?

Are you giving yourself space to decide or giving yourself an excuse not to act?

Only you know.

What’s true is that when we believe in ourselves and our capacity for growth, it can make it easier to trust that some things take time. Then we can see time as part of the equation, like pulling together flour, water, salt, and yeast and then giving it time to rise.

But since our world puts so much focus on agency and so little on patience, it seems helpful to be inspired by the tiny tomato plant, not anything yet to the world, all potential, just needing some time to grow.

Waiting isn’t the opposite of doing. It’s often the very space of belief, to act and also to know that some things take time. It can be a field of anticipation and curiosity, and a way to reclaim the “what now?”.

And if you too have been in a freeze or some other nervous system activation for the past year, I send you love and solidarity, and so much belief in your wholeness

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