Last week, I did something brave. Not brave like booked-a-solo-trip-to-Italy like those instagram people brave. Brave like opened-the-pool-bag-from-last-summer brave.
You know the one.
Shoved in the hall closet.
Still faintly smells like sunscreen and regret.
Sticky granola bar wrappers.
One swim goggle, somehow twisted in a hair tie.
The moldy imprint of a half-eaten peach.
It was not just a bag. It was a time capsule of survival.
Summer 2024 was… a lot.
Swim team. Camp drop-offs. Snacks packed for every possible mood swing.
I was booked and busy but also somehow emotionally bankrupt.
That pool bag? It held more than towels and old goggles.
It held the version of me that said yes to everything because structure = safety.
Because doing felt better than sitting still.
Because when your kids are occupied, you don’t have to ask yourself how you’re really doing.
But as I unpacked the bag, I felt it.
This gut-level knowing:
We don’t need to carry all this into another summer.
Not the literal moldy peach. Not the metaphorical one either.
This summer, I’m making a new kind of space.
Not for swim meets or hourly agendas.
But for boredom.
Yes—boredom.
The kind where kids wander the house saying “There’s nothing to do” and you don’t respond with a Pinterest activity or a Target run.
You just say, “Yeah. I know.”
And let them sit in it.
Because here’s what I’ve learned—about kids, emotions, and therapy:
Boredom is not the enemy.
It’s the entry point.
It’s the pause.
The open space where self-discovery happens.
The moment where imagination re-enters.
Where discomfort leads to creativity.
And for us, as adults? It’s no different.
We’re so conditioned to forward movement.
Productivity.
Doing the most.
Keeping the calendar full so no one asks, “Are you okay?” (Including us.)
But sitting still is not quitting. It’s leveling up.
It’s a trust fall into your own nervous system.
It’s the moment where your brain finally has space to tell you what it’s been trying to say under the noise:
“You’re tired.”
“This pace isn’t sustainable.”
“You miss yourself.”
So here’s what I want to invite you into:
Before you refill the pool bag…
Before you load the summer calendar…
Before you sign up for back-to-back camps so no one has to feel bored or uncertain or emotionally squirmy…
Dump the bag.
Literally and emotionally.
Ask:
- What did I carry last summer out of habit, not intention?
- What made me feel alive? What drained the life out of me?
- What rhythms did we keep just to avoid the pause?
- What would it look like to build a summer around presence instead of performance?
We’re calling this new blog series:
“When the Therapist Cancels Swim Team.”
(Yes, I did. No, I don’t regret it.)
It’s for the moms who are tired of high-functioning their way through burnout.
For the ones who know they need less, but don’t know where to start.
For the ones brave enough to let their kids—and themselves—get bored on purpose.
We’ll talk about unlearning hustle, choosing rest, and rebuilding summer in a way that actually feels like the exhale we all keep promising ourselves.
So, yeah. This is your invitation.
Dump the pool bag.
Unpack the emotions that got shoved down with the Capri Suns.
And let’s figure out a new rhythm together.
Your permission slip starts now.
— Katie
Therapist, recovering summer micromanager, and current champion of the Great Boredom Rebellion
