Current view: Velvety gray fog as far as the eye can see, framed by deep green leaves swaying next to our cabin deep in the Smoky Mountains. Just 15 minutes ago, I was sitting in the hot tub with a book in hand, listening to the rain on the porch roof and startling by moments as icy raindrops blew into mist and onto my cheeks. Last night, sitting in our cabin, the sun finally came out and bathed the mountain in a brilliant faded red glow.

Desired Thoughts: Ommmm. This hot tub is comfortable. Mechanic is the best travel companion and I am so relaxed. What a beautiful view!

Actual Thoughts: How well is this porch anchored to the cabin? How well is this cabin built into the mountain? Shouldn’t I be inside writing? Am I finding myself? Will I ever publish my book? Have I soaked up this time in the woods in the right way?

Is there a pause button for the thoughts that swirl through my brain? Your brains? The ones that tell us we aren’t doing enough, accomplishing the right things in the right order? You know the thoughts. They’re the invasive ways that take up residence in some lobe of your brain and refuse to be quieted for longer than a few songs. You can push them away and get some work done, but they’ll be waiting in your passenger seat at the end of a long workday, ready to greet you and remind that you there is so, so much to be done to be the you you want to be.

I haven’t found that pause button, but I’m searching—slowly—for ways to turn the volume down, to drown it out with the sound of my husband kissing my forehead, my friends laughing and my pets’ feet running toward me.

If you’re someone without a pause button, know this: I see you. We’ll eventually figure it out.