Stop using plastics … in your MIND, too

Hey, there. AmyK here.

We’ve all heard the warnings:

Plastics are ruining the planet. Stop using straws. Ban the bags. Recycle or else.

But you know what might be just as toxic as plastic bottles?

Plastic thinking.

Yep. I’m talking about the containers [i.e. mental Tupperware] we’ve been trained to snap shut for our emotional leftovers:

We’ve crammed joy into a travel-sized container and then wonder why the rest of life feels like a beige, windowless conference room.

With bad lighting.

Stale coffee.

And definitely no good snacks.

It’s not your fault. We were taught to operate this way—rewarded for being neat little machines who file feelings in the proper slots.

Sadness?  That’s for after 8:15 p.m., alone, preferably in the car.

Rage?  Permitted at 4 p.m. in traffic or exactly when your smoke detector starts chirping at 3:43 a.m.

Playfulness? You get three hours on the weekend — unless you forgot you have errands to run, in which case, cancel joy.

Deliciously delightful contentment? Oh, how cute of you. That’s for one long weekend in August. And even then, only the part of the weekend not spent stressing over your delayed flight. A flight, by the way, that is only delayed going to the resort but will be right on time getting you back.

We’ve been led to believe joy needs a reservation.

That peace only belongs in yoga class.

That paddleboarding at 2 p.m. next Saturday is the golden hour for "living your best life."

Yeah. I’m calling bull.

Who decided life had to be organized like a toddler’s lunch tray — every feeling in its separate compartment, nothing touching?

(Oh wait. That was a toddler. Screaming because her eggs touched the pancake.)

So here’s your nudge:

Less compartmentalizing. More blending.

If we’re ditching plastics in our homes, let’s ditch the psychological containers too.

Because here’s the thing: the healthy, well-lived life doesn’t happen in plastic containers. Nor mental ones either.

When we de-compartmentalize, something magical happens.

Life stops being something we endure in labeled chunks — waiting, so much time waiting, to get to the good parts.

So … the next time you start to compartmentalize and hear yourself saying, “Now’s not the time for joy, it’s Monday,” I hope you’ll catch yourself, smile and say,

“Oh, indeed it is.” 😌

Blended is beautiful.

Hugs,
AmyK