Finding Stillness: Prioritizing Mental Health in a Chaotic World
Unsplash Image by blueberry Maki
There was a time when all of this felt exhilarating—the colors, the sounds, the sheer possibility of what could be. But now? Now it’s just too much.
The crowds press in. The music blares from every direction, blending into a chaotic hum that never stops. Every ride is spinning, climbing, dropping—over and over again—without a moment of stillness. And you? You’re just standing there in the middle of it all, wondering how everyone else is keeping up while you’re barely holding on.
Welcome to the amusement park of life.
When the Fun Stops Being Fun
Some of these rides are breathtaking—the rush of wind as you fly down the track, the stunning view from the top, the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt in the best way. These are the moments people talk about, the ones worth holding onto.
But even the best ride in the park feels miserable if you’re not okay.
Think about it: if you’re exhausted, if your head is pounding, if your stomach is unsettled—does it really matter how thrilling the roller coaster is? You can barely appreciate the view when you're just trying to hold yourself together. And if you keep pushing yourself onto ride after ride, ignoring how unsteady you feel, at some point, it stops being an adventure and becomes pure survival.
We don’t talk about that enough.
Sometimes, it’s not the ride itself—
it’s us.
And no amount of excitement can fix the fact that we need rest more than we need another thrill.
Unsplash Image by Jametlene Reskp
When the Thrill Becomes a Trap
We’re conditioned to chase the next big thing—to believe that happiness is found in the rush, in the constant movement, in keeping up with everyone else. But what if the real problem isn’t that we aren’t doing enough? What if it’s that we’re doing too much?
It’s easy to convince ourselves that if we just push through a little longer, if we just hold on a little tighter, we’ll eventually find the joy we’ve been promised. But exhaustion doesn’t work that way. Burnout doesn’t wait for the perfect moment to strike—it sneaks in quietly, settling into our bones, making even the things we once loved feel like obligations.
And yet, we keep pushing. We ignore the signs, telling ourselves that we just need to try harder, to be stronger, to keep going. Because stopping feels like failure. Because stepping away feels like admitting defeat.
But it’s not.
Choosing to rest is not the same as giving up. It’s an act of self-preservation. It’s recognizing that you are not a machine built for endless momentum—you are a person who deserves peace just as much as excitement. And sometimes, the most courageous thing you can do is step away before you completely unravel.
Unsplash Image by Hernan Sanchez
When You Didn’t Choose the Ride
Not every ride we find ourselves on is one we chose. Sometimes, life straps us in, the bar locks into place, and before we can even catch our breath, we’re plummeting down a track we never wanted to be on. Loss, uncertainty, global chaos—these rides happen back to back, with no chance to recover in between.
And when every ride feels like one that makes you want to vomit, how do you keep going? How do you trust that the amusement park still has joy to offer when every single attraction seems to be making you sick?
First, acknowledge that you’re not alone. Many of us are gripping the safety bar with white-knuckled hands, wondering when we’ll get a break. It’s not weakness to admit that you’re overwhelmed—it’s truth. And truth is the first step toward reclaiming control.
Second, remember that not every ride lasts forever. It might feel endless, but at some point, the track evens out, the car slows down, and the exit appears. When you can, take that exit. Even if it’s just for a moment. Even if it’s just a deep breath before the next one begins.
Third, believe—against all evidence, if you must—that there are still rides worth experiencing. Maybe not today. Maybe not even tomorrow. But the amusement park of life is vast, and not every attraction is built to terrify and exhaust. One day, you’ll find yourself on a gentle carousel, a slow Ferris wheel with a view that reminds you why you came in the first place.
Stepping Out of the Chaos
If the amusement park of life is overwhelming you, you don’t have to keep forcing yourself onto the next ride. There’s no rule saying you have to stay in the noise, no unwritten law that says you must take part in every attraction just because it exists.
Here’s what you can do instead:
Step Away from the Rides: It’s okay to press pause. To step to the sidelines and say, not right now. No one can ride roller coasters endlessly without breaking down. Why should you be any different? Sometimes, stepping away means getting out in nature—feeling the sun on your face, the wind in your hair, reconnecting with something bigger than the chaos around you. It might mean going on a wellness retreat, even if it's just a weekend away to reset. And if traveling isn't an option, consider diving into something new—learning a skill or picking up a hobby that sparks curiosity and growth. When the world feels overwhelming, escaping into expanding your mind can be far more rewarding than spiraling into anxiety. Prioritize these moments of renewal; they are just as essential as the thrills.
Find Your Quiet Spot: There’s always a quiet corner, a space where the music fades and the lights aren’t so blinding. In life, that might look like a slow morning, a walk alone, a conversation with someone who truly understands. It might mean turning off the TV, stepping away from the relentless cycle of bad news, and taking a break from social media to escape the noise of constant opinions and updates. It could be as simple as reaching out to friends who remind you of who you are beyond the chaos—friends who make you laugh, who bring you back to yourself. Go there. Let yourself breathe.
Ignore the Crowds: Just because everyone else is running full speed ahead doesn’t mean you have to. Your experience is yours. No one else gets to dictate how fast or how much you have to take in. Creating space for yourself isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. That might mean setting boundaries with people and places that constantly leave you feeling drained and tumultuous. And yes, sometimes those boundaries can feel isolating at first, especially if you’ve been caught in a cycle of chaotic relationships that fuel your adrenaline and cortisol addiction. Pushing pause isn’t just about stepping back; it’s about realigning with who you truly are, not who you’ve been in survival mode. It’s about recognizing that you deserve peace, even if it means redefining who and what you allow into your space.
Take Care of Yourself First: If you want to enjoy the best rides again someday, you need to take care of yourself now. That might mean stepping outside the park for a while, drinking some water, sitting in the shade. Not because the rides aren’t worth it—but because you are.
And just as important as stepping away is resisting the urge to rush back in too quickly. We are so highly programmed to avoid stillness, to fill every gap with the next thing—the next relationship, the next endeavor, the next distraction. But it’s exactly that stillness that we need more than anything else. Right at the very moment we see a glimmer of healing, we think we can jump on to the next big ride, or even buy a ticket to the next amusement park. This thinking is a trap. It’s the reason we find ourselves exhausted, overwhelmed, and tangled in the wrong relationships, riding all the wrong roller coasters in the first place.
Recognize the signs of dodging the stillness. If you feel the impulse to immediately throw yourself into something new just to escape the discomfort of being alone with yourself—pause. Sit with yourself in this newly found awareness before making any big decisions. Let yourself breathe in this space of healing without the pressure to move forward just yet. It’s those who can fully embrace stillness who are best equipped to choose the right line, to stand in front of the right ride, and to truly enjoy it when the time comes.
You. Are. Not. Broken.
Feeling overwhelmed doesn’t mean you’re weak. It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human. And humans need quiet. Stillness. A break from the flashing lights and the relentless momentum.
The park isn’t going anywhere. But you don’t have to keep running through it just because the world tells you to.
Step back. Sit down. Rest.
And when you're ready—when you decide—it will still be there, waiting for you.
Unsplash Image by Idean Azad
