The first time I felt anxiety

Yup...we're going there.

Hey there,

I remember the first time I physically felt anxiety.

It was the fall of my senior year of high school. I was the starting middle hitter of our (losing) volleyball team, the president of our (winning) FFA chapter (yes, I still have the blue jacket), a hostess at one of two restaurants in my tiny town, and navigating new friendships since the majority of my friends had graduated the year prior.

My BFF MaRisa and me at my high school graduation. She was one of the aforementioned friends who’d graduated a year earlier. Lucky for me, we now live blocks away from one another.

I was getting a taste of what always being busy was like. And my chest always felt tight.

I thought it was related to mono I had the previous spring (and no, I didn’t get it from kissing! I was not that cool, guys!). So I dismissed it as something that would go away eventually.

And I guess it did in some ways.

Or maybe I just got used to the feeling?

Actually…I was just great at covering it up with my extreme extroversion. Combine that with Midwest nice and being the youngest of three overachieving daughters, and you get a lot of turmoil.

My best friend Emily (second from left) dug up a bunch of FFA pictures for me. Low-quality photo, high-quality experience at Washington Leadership Conference circa 2008.

It wasn’t until I was well into my twenties that I discovered that the tightness wasn’t whatever people call “normal.”

I was at a roundtable event for designers, and we got on the topic of the crushing weight of our workloads. When I said “crushing weight,” I meant it figuratively. But someone else described the feeling literally—as if someone was sitting on their chest. They called it anxiety.

And you can call me naive, because that’s the first time I had a name for the feeling I’d had for the previous decade.

When I was 18, I didn’t have the language to name any of the feelings I was having, let alone the tools to navigate them. How was I expected to manage these feelings when I didn’t realize they were feelings to begin with?!

That’s something BeWell in School is working to change.

BeWell in School is a 501(c)3 organization helping students leverage breath, movement, and mindfulness to transform school climates and create educational environments where everyone feels supported to learn, grow, and be themselves. Through their in-person work in Nashville area schools, they help students develop strategies to regulate their emotions. In turn, these strategies support more time on task, fewer discipline referrals, and enhanced academic performance, all while making schools more supportive places for staff and students.

BeWell in School is my impact organization for 2025 and 2026. And today, I’m asking you to join me in bringing these tools to more students, because if you’re here—in a newsletter titled Brand Burnout—my guess is you could have used these tools earlier in life, too.

I’ve set a personal goal of raising $500 for BeWell in School by January 31, 2026, and I’d be honored if you’d help me reach it.

Plus, $5 of every $15+ donation will go to the BeWell Gift Card Drawer, which gives teachers the means to address student and family needs (like food security, household items, and more) when they see them arise.

I think this is my junior year—I remember this shirt from volleyball that year. It was too big, but it was trendy to tie a big knot in the back to make it more of a crop-top sort of thing…so that’s what I did.

I don’t make a habit of thinking back to the person I was when I was seventeen.

Maybe because it’s too cringe. Maybe because my head lives less in the past and is instead focused so much (too much?) on the future. But when I do think about her, I wish she had the tools that the BeWell students have today.

And I hope she knows she’s doing the best with what she has now.

Thanks for reading,

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