
Somewhere along the way, we decided that a regulated nervous system looks like a perfectly-coiffed wife and mother sipping herbal tea in her immaculate kitchen while the world collapses around her. She does not doomscroll or yell. She’s very spiritual. Very evolved.
Her flight gets canceled? She breathes through it.
Her neighbor votes for a fascist? She practices compassion.
The news talks about climate change? She notices the sensation in her chest and sets her phone down.
This particular fantasy of enlightenment confuses being unbothered with being well.
A regulated nervous system isn’t one that has stopped responding to life, but one that can respond without being hijacked by every passing storm.
Now, before we throw the meditation cushion out the window, let’s be clear. Breathing, mindfulness, and compassion practices work. Learning to recognize our triggers, soften our reactions, and meet ourselves with kindness are incredible practices that give us tools for navigating difficult emotions without being completely consumed by them. They help us pause before we react, find steadiness when we’re overwhelmed, and remember that a feeling is not necessarily a command. This is beautiful, necessary work.
But it’s spiritual bypassing to think it is all the work.
We’ve managed to confuse emotional regulation with emotional suppression. We’ve turned peace into a performance and spirituality into an elaborate exercise in making ourselves more palatable to a world that deserves some of our fear and anger.
Enter the tyranny of good vibes only, where your grief is welcome, provided it doesn’t linger past brunch. Your anger is acceptable, provided you can transmute it into a lesson about personal growth. Your fear is understandable, provided you don’t make anyone uncomfortable by talking about it. And your despair? Have you tried gratitude journaling?
There is something profoundly absurd about telling people to raise their vibration while their lives are falling apart. It’s like handing someone a scented candle while their house is on fire and suggesting they focus on the fragrance. Sometimes life is beautiful. Sometimes it is brutal. Most often, it’s both. A regulated nervous system means we can recognize what’s burning, decide what needs saving, and act without setting ourselves on fire in the process.
The goal isn’t to feel less, but to become more capable of feeling what is actually here. That means we can experience anger without letting it make every decision for us. We can grieve without believing we’ll drown. We can feel fear without automatically surrendering to it. We can be devastated by injustice and still find ourselves laughing with friends at dinner. We can hold grief in one hand and wonder in the other.
We become less reactive, but not less responsive.
And sometimes, a regulated response looks nothing like the serene, softly smiling person we imagine when we hear the word mindfulness. Sometimes it looks like setting a boundary. Sometimes it’s saying, “No, actually, that is unacceptable.” Sometimes it’s crying in the car, calling a friend, organizing a protest, or finally admitting that the situation you’ve been trying to breathe your way through requires a change.
Breathing can help you tolerate discomfort. It cannot, by itself, make an intolerable situation healthy.
Compassion can help you understand another person’s humanity. It does not require you to give them unlimited access to yours.
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Mindfulness can teach you to observe your thoughts without believing every one of them. It does not ask you to become a passive observer of your own life.
There is a difference between finding peace within yourself and demanding that you remain peaceful about everything happening around you. One is a practice. The other is spiritual bypassing.
So take a deep breath. Be grateful. Practice compassion, especially when it feels difficult. Learn to recognize when your nervous system needs rest.
And then get back out there.

