Mental Health
Trusting the Process (and Pausing Before You Panic)
Miss Shannan Paul
November 10, 2025
You ever notice that “trust the process” sounds great when you say it out loud, but living it feels like a group project where you’re the only one doing the work?
Every time one of my kiddo’s doctors says, “Let’s try this new med,” or, “We’re adding a new therapy,” or, “Let’s change up this routine,” I brace myself. Because I know what might come next.
Sometimes things get worse before they get better.
Sometimes they don’t seem to get better at all.
And sometimes everything goes so sideways that we end up right back where we started, just with less patience and more laundry.
But every now and then, something clicks. Something small works. And I remember, oh yeah, this is what progress looks like.
And Then There’s the Rest of Life
Take this Wednesday morning, for example. We didn’t make it to school. Not even close.
And as we cycled through reset after reset, I started watching the clock and feeling that creeping anxiety that loves to whisper, “You’re letting someone down.”
I had told my friends at the Twin Cities Film Fest that I’d come by to help with a project.
And every passing hour, I kept thinking, when do I call them and say I can’t make it?
Finally, I stopped pretending I could still pull it off and sent the message:
“I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it in.”
And guess what they said?
“Oh, you didn’t see the email? We already got everything packed up. You don’t need to come in.”
Cue me laughing at my phone, saying, “Well, thank goodness.” In the midst of all of our big emotions, I hadn’t seen any emails. I’d barely seen
Here I was, spinning myself into a guilt spiral for hours, convinced I was disappointing everyone, and the problem had already solved itself.
They even wrote back, “That’s so sweet of you,” which was kind, but also a gentle reminder that my anxiety often arrives early to a meeting that doesn’t even exist.
The Real Work of Trust
Whether it’s new meds, a new therapy, or just a new Monday, I’m learning that trusting the process isn’t passive.
It’s active patience. It’s resisting the urge to panic-text everyone before you even know there’s a problem.
Sometimes we need to let life unfold before assuming it’s falling apart.
Sometimes the thing you’re worrying about has already worked itself out, and you just haven’t gotten the memo yet.
So this week, I’m reminding myself to pause before I panic.
There’s a special kind of courage in parents who keep trying. The ones who refill the meds, show up for the appointments, start the new routines, and still hold hope after the last one didn’t go as planned.
Trusting the process doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It means staying in it long enough to see what could change.
Progress doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers.
And sometimes, it just laughs quietly from the next room, a reminder that things are still moving even if we can’t see how yet.
So here’s my reminder for both of us: keep trying. Keep trusting. Keep showing up.
Because even when it feels like nothing’s working, it might just mean the process is still working on you.
Join Me on Cadre
If this message hit home, join me for Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting Edition on Cadre, where we talk about the messy middle of parenting, patience, and progress.
Comedy Through the ChaosThursdays at 2:00 PM CT
Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting EditionSaturdays at 10:00 AM CT
You ever notice that “trust the process” sounds great when you say it out loud, but living it feels like a group project where you’re the only one doing the work?
Every time one of my kiddo’s doctors says, “Let’s try this new med,” or, “We’re adding a new therapy,” or, “Let’s change up this routine,” I brace myself. Because I know what might come next.
Sometimes things get worse before they get better.
Sometimes they don’t seem to get better at all.
And sometimes everything goes so sideways that we end up right back where we started, just with less patience and more laundry.
But every now and then, something clicks. Something small works. And I remember, oh yeah, this is what progress looks like.
And Then There’s the Rest of Life
Take this Wednesday morning, for example. We didn’t make it to school. Not even close.
And as we cycled through reset after reset, I started watching the clock and feeling that creeping anxiety that loves to whisper, “You’re letting someone down.”
I had told my friends at the Twin Cities Film Fest that I’d come by to help with a project.
And every passing hour, I kept thinking, when do I call them and say I can’t make it?
Finally, I stopped pretending I could still pull it off and sent the message:
“I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it in.”
And guess what they said?
“Oh, you didn’t see the email? We already got everything packed up. You don’t need to come in.”
Cue me laughing at my phone, saying, “Well, thank goodness.” In the midst of all of our big emotions, I hadn’t seen any emails. I’d barely seen
Here I was, spinning myself into a guilt spiral for hours, convinced I was disappointing everyone, and the problem had already solved itself.
They even wrote back, “That’s so sweet of you,” which was kind, but also a gentle reminder that my anxiety often arrives early to a meeting that doesn’t even exist.
The Real Work of Trust
Whether it’s new meds, a new therapy, or just a new Monday, I’m learning that trusting the process isn’t passive.
It’s active patience. It’s resisting the urge to panic-text everyone before you even know there’s a problem.
Sometimes we need to let life unfold before assuming it’s falling apart.
Sometimes the thing you’re worrying about has already worked itself out, and you just haven’t gotten the memo yet.
So this week, I’m reminding myself to pause before I panic.
There’s a special kind of courage in parents who keep trying. The ones who refill the meds, show up for the appointments, start the new routines, and still hold hope after the last one didn’t go as planned.
Trusting the process doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It means staying in it long enough to see what could change.
Progress doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers.
And sometimes, it just laughs quietly from the next room, a reminder that things are still moving even if we can’t see how yet.
So here’s my reminder for both of us: keep trying. Keep trusting. Keep showing up.
Because even when it feels like nothing’s working, it might just mean the process is still working on you.
Join Me on Cadre
If this message hit home, join me for Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting Edition on Cadre, where we talk about the messy middle of parenting, patience, and progress.
Comedy Through the ChaosThursdays at 2:00 PM CT
Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting EditionSaturdays at 10:00 AM CT
You ever notice that “trust the process” sounds great when you say it out loud, but living it feels like a group project where you’re the only one doing the work?
Every time one of my kiddo’s doctors says, “Let’s try this new med,” or, “We’re adding a new therapy,” or, “Let’s change up this routine,” I brace myself. Because I know what might come next.
Sometimes things get worse before they get better.
Sometimes they don’t seem to get better at all.
And sometimes everything goes so sideways that we end up right back where we started, just with less patience and more laundry.
But every now and then, something clicks. Something small works. And I remember, oh yeah, this is what progress looks like.
And Then There’s the Rest of Life
Take this Wednesday morning, for example. We didn’t make it to school. Not even close.
And as we cycled through reset after reset, I started watching the clock and feeling that creeping anxiety that loves to whisper, “You’re letting someone down.”
I had told my friends at the Twin Cities Film Fest that I’d come by to help with a project.
And every passing hour, I kept thinking, when do I call them and say I can’t make it?
Finally, I stopped pretending I could still pull it off and sent the message:
“I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it in.”
And guess what they said?
“Oh, you didn’t see the email? We already got everything packed up. You don’t need to come in.”
Cue me laughing at my phone, saying, “Well, thank goodness.” In the midst of all of our big emotions, I hadn’t seen any emails. I’d barely seen
Here I was, spinning myself into a guilt spiral for hours, convinced I was disappointing everyone, and the problem had already solved itself.
They even wrote back, “That’s so sweet of you,” which was kind, but also a gentle reminder that my anxiety often arrives early to a meeting that doesn’t even exist.
The Real Work of Trust
Whether it’s new meds, a new therapy, or just a new Monday, I’m learning that trusting the process isn’t passive.
It’s active patience. It’s resisting the urge to panic-text everyone before you even know there’s a problem.
Sometimes we need to let life unfold before assuming it’s falling apart.
Sometimes the thing you’re worrying about has already worked itself out, and you just haven’t gotten the memo yet.
So this week, I’m reminding myself to pause before I panic.
There’s a special kind of courage in parents who keep trying. The ones who refill the meds, show up for the appointments, start the new routines, and still hold hope after the last one didn’t go as planned.
Trusting the process doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It means staying in it long enough to see what could change.
Progress doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers.
And sometimes, it just laughs quietly from the next room, a reminder that things are still moving even if we can’t see how yet.
So here’s my reminder for both of us: keep trying. Keep trusting. Keep showing up.
Because even when it feels like nothing’s working, it might just mean the process is still working on you.
Join Me on Cadre
If this message hit home, join me for Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting Edition on Cadre, where we talk about the messy middle of parenting, patience, and progress.
Comedy Through the ChaosThursdays at 2:00 PM CT
Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting EditionSaturdays at 10:00 AM CT
You ever notice that “trust the process” sounds great when you say it out loud, but living it feels like a group project where you’re the only one doing the work?
Every time one of my kiddo’s doctors says, “Let’s try this new med,” or, “We’re adding a new therapy,” or, “Let’s change up this routine,” I brace myself. Because I know what might come next.
Sometimes things get worse before they get better.
Sometimes they don’t seem to get better at all.
And sometimes everything goes so sideways that we end up right back where we started, just with less patience and more laundry.
But every now and then, something clicks. Something small works. And I remember, oh yeah, this is what progress looks like.
And Then There’s the Rest of Life
Take this Wednesday morning, for example. We didn’t make it to school. Not even close.
And as we cycled through reset after reset, I started watching the clock and feeling that creeping anxiety that loves to whisper, “You’re letting someone down.”
I had told my friends at the Twin Cities Film Fest that I’d come by to help with a project.
And every passing hour, I kept thinking, when do I call them and say I can’t make it?
Finally, I stopped pretending I could still pull it off and sent the message:
“I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to make it in.”
And guess what they said?
“Oh, you didn’t see the email? We already got everything packed up. You don’t need to come in.”
Cue me laughing at my phone, saying, “Well, thank goodness.” In the midst of all of our big emotions, I hadn’t seen any emails. I’d barely seen
Here I was, spinning myself into a guilt spiral for hours, convinced I was disappointing everyone, and the problem had already solved itself.
They even wrote back, “That’s so sweet of you,” which was kind, but also a gentle reminder that my anxiety often arrives early to a meeting that doesn’t even exist.
The Real Work of Trust
Whether it’s new meds, a new therapy, or just a new Monday, I’m learning that trusting the process isn’t passive.
It’s active patience. It’s resisting the urge to panic-text everyone before you even know there’s a problem.
Sometimes we need to let life unfold before assuming it’s falling apart.
Sometimes the thing you’re worrying about has already worked itself out, and you just haven’t gotten the memo yet.
So this week, I’m reminding myself to pause before I panic.
There’s a special kind of courage in parents who keep trying. The ones who refill the meds, show up for the appointments, start the new routines, and still hold hope after the last one didn’t go as planned.
Trusting the process doesn’t mean pretending you’re fine. It means staying in it long enough to see what could change.
Progress doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers.
And sometimes, it just laughs quietly from the next room, a reminder that things are still moving even if we can’t see how yet.
So here’s my reminder for both of us: keep trying. Keep trusting. Keep showing up.
Because even when it feels like nothing’s working, it might just mean the process is still working on you.
Join Me on Cadre
If this message hit home, join me for Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting Edition on Cadre, where we talk about the messy middle of parenting, patience, and progress.
Comedy Through the ChaosThursdays at 2:00 PM CT
Comedy Through the Chaos: Parenting EditionSaturdays at 10:00 AM CT
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Download the app
Copyright ©2021-2024 Cadre LLC. All rights reserved.
Subscribe to the newsletter
Download the app
Copyright ©2021-2024 Cadre LLC. All rights reserved.