Howdy! Welcome to "Overflowing"...

If you were here for On Courage, this is the same me—just a little less polished.

I won't bore you with the whole journey, but let's say: that version got a little too serious and precious, even for me.

Yes, I can be serious and precious.

But at heart, I'm a different kind of animal: curious, creative, occasionally provocative. More "intimate teacher meets recovering good boy meets spiritual rascal". 😜

So I needed a vibe shift. A little more freeeeeee!

That's the spirit behind the new name, Overflowing. It's also how I think about my purpose: being the Mentos dropped into a hundred soda bottles. Helping others (and myself, honestly) take everything that's trapped inside and let it fizz, bubble, and yep, overflow into the world. That's what I want to inspire here: bringing the inside out, with all its quirks and power.

So let's start with a deceptively simple question that’s often a missed chance to express what’s really inside.

"How are you?"

Lately, I've been struggling to answer that.

In the past, I'd simply say "fine". Not because everything was fine—but because I didn't know how to say more. I couldn't capture my life neatly, so I settled for the default.

One of my last conversations with a former friend was about this, actually. They confessed they'd spent hours with me and still had no idea how I was. Oof.

So I started learning. I had a therapist who helped me name my emotions—and a business coach who began every session by asking, "How are you?" And she meant it. She waited. She expected me to slow down, go to wherever that answer lived inside me, and speak the truth. (Yeah, I learned how to do this in my 40s).

Now I have a different problem: I can locate the feeling, but I don't always have the language for it.

How am I? Well, very mixed. (Which, I'm learning, is a signature of midlife).

I'm deeply engaged in the memoir I'm writing, proud of my son as he rounds out second grade, still learning about my husband after 17 years, enraged at the way queer and Black histories are being erased, walking a tight wire between impatience and presence, unsure about 85 different things that used to feel "stable"...

Like, technically things are fine. And also: no, I'm deeply worried.

I keep saying: we need new language for this moment.

So I went looking. Surely there's a word—probably German—for this mix of gratitude and total dread.

And I found one:

"Weltschmerz" (pronounced VELT-shmerts)

n. world pain; the ache of being personally okay while feeling overwhelmed by the state of things.

It's the emotional fatigue that comes from seeing how far the world is from what it could be. And carrying that gap in your body, even as your own life somehow hums forward.

That's me lately: Weltschmerz-y.

Of course, we don't need to reduce ourselves to a single word. But the right words can give it all a shape. And shape makes it shareable. And sharing builds connection.

Your controlled explosion

Let's try this again: How are you?

Not the default answer—the real one. Whatever it is, can you name it? Can you say it?

Try it next time someone asks. Say something just a little more true, a little less neat. Even better if you're not sure how they'll respond. See what that creates in the conversation. And what it stirs up in you.

I'd love to hear what surfaces. And while I'm at it: what would make Overflowing a must-read for you?

Hit reply and let me know.

— Elliot