Some people think it's a distraction, but in the midst of great upheaval, we all need moments of relief.

Many years ago, when I was working in a trauma center as a young therapist, we had just finished a particularly difficult group session where someone had opened up about their horrific history of abuse. Right after the session ended, we went down to get lunch from the hospital cafeteria. As I was returning with my lunch tray, my older, and wiser colleague paused as we passed the group room where all the clients were sitting together, eating lunch.

"Do you hear that?" he asked.

I didn't hear anything other than the hum of conversation and laughter as the clients assessed their various hospital foods. My colleague turned to me and said, "Don't you hear the laughter?" They were laughing, not uproariously, but playfully, thoughtfully. They were taking care of each other after a tough session.

I think about that moment often, especially now. With National Guard troops in our nation's capital and fear permeating so many conversations, it can feel almost wrong to find moments of lightness. The situation is scary. It's awful. People are genuinely afraid, and that fear is valid and real.

But here's what that experienced colleague taught me: as human beings, we have an enormous capacity to hold multiple truths at once. We can acknowledge the weight of tragedy and still be present with a ready laugh, a gentle hand of support, or a smile of encouragement. This isn't denial or toxic positivity, it's survival. It's how we keep going when the world feels impossibly heavy.

I won't offer you easy answers or quick fixes for navigating these times. There aren't any. What I will offer is this: your capacity to find small moments of connection, humor, or even joy in the midst of darkness isn't a character flaw or a sign that you're not taking things seriously enough. It's part of what makes us human.

As September ushers in new routines and familiar rhythms, you might find yourself caught between the comfort of normalcy and the dissonance of trying to maintain that normalcy when everything feels upended. That tension is real too. You don't have to resolve it or make sense of it. You just have to live through it, one day, sometimes, one moment at a time.

Viktor Frankl wrote: "Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation." This doesn't mean choosing to be happy or positive in the face of genuine threat and fear. It means choosing how you'll show up, for yourself, for your loved ones, for your community. Even when, especially when, the ground feels unsteady beneath your feet.

The laughter in that hospital group room wasn't about forgetting the pain that had just been shared. It was about creating space for healing alongside the hurt. In these times of upheaval, we need that same generous spaciousness. We have to make room for fear and comfort, for grieving and connecting, for taking action and taking breaks.

You don't have to carry it all alone. And you don't have to figure it all out at once. Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is simply keep breathing, keep showing up, and trust that even in the darkest seasons, there's still room for the full range of what it means to be human.

Whatever this season brings, we remain here. Steadily listening, ready to hold your hand as we all struggle to find our footing on shifting ground.

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