The Deep Dive

Aug. 2026 Have you ever had to crash out —or lose people—to finally realize what you actually needed?

If you would have asked me, I’d say yes—and I’d say it’s happened more than once.

I think most people, in some way, have an understanding of a higher power, whatever that looks like for them: God, Jesus, Source, the Universe, Buddha, or something else entirely. For me, that belief has always come with a sense that there are things worth paying attention to—things happening beneath the surface that aren’t always obvious, or that people sometimes choose not to acknowledge.

Ever since I was little, I’ve noticed small things that other people either don’t notice or don’t want to notice. For a long time, I tried to convince myself that I was simply doing too much. I thought, If everyone else can move through life without paying attention to these things, why can’t I?

But trying not to notice never made me stop noticing. It only made me question myself.

I started thinking that maybe there was something wrong with me because I couldn’t just overlook what felt obvious. And while I’ve learned that not every observation I have is automatically the truth, I’ve also learned that noticing something and being willing to acknowledge it isn’t inherently a bad thing.

Sometimes, when I point something out, the response is that I’m reading too much into it, overthinking, being dramatic, or looking for something that isn’t there. And sometimes, later on, the very thing I was questioning ends up coming to light.

That doesn’t mean I’m always right. It means I’ve learned not to immediately abandon my own perception just because someone else is uncomfortable with it.

Because that’s where I think things get complicated.

Sometimes people would rather protect the comfort of the moment than confront what that moment might be telling them about the future. The truth can change things. It can force you to make decisions you weren’t ready to make, have conversations you didn’t want to have, or let go of people and situations you hoped would work out.

And sometimes, I think people would rather call you crazy for noticing something than admit that they noticed it too.

Maybe that’s part of growing up: learning the difference between being paranoid and being perceptive, between projecting a fear and recognizing a pattern, and between crashing out because you’re overwhelmed and finally admitting that something has been bothering you for a long time. Between staying in an environment that you’re uncomfortable in and allowing yourself to walk away even if that means you might lose some people.

I don’t think the answer is to trust every feeling blindly.

I think the answer is to stop being afraid of what you might find when you’re honest enough to look.