This illustration by Katie Abey captures a tension so many of us are carrying right now.
How do we stay informed about what’s happening in the world without letting it consume us?
How do we care deeply without burning out?
In school nursing, we don’t have the luxury of pretending the world isn’t heavy. What happens beyond school walls shows up every day in subtle and not-so-subtle ways; in stress, in fear, in grief, in questions kids don’t yet have words for. So tuning out entirely has never really been an option. But neither is living in a constant state of overwhelm.
I am learning how to stay informed, stay engaged, and stay human — all at the same time.
And when we don’t name that tension, we often swing hard toward one of two extremes.
On one end, there’s total immersion.
We consume so much news, fear, and outrage that our hearts are in a constant state of breaking. We care deeply, but we feel powerless. Frozen. Exhausted. Our nervous systems never get a break, and eventually, neither do we.
On the other end, there’s “protecting our peace” taken too far.
Staying uninformed. Opting out. Calling it boundaries when it’s really numbness. Pretending it’s not happening, because looking hurts too much.
Neither extreme works.
I don’t want to be numb.
I want to feel angry when children are harmed.
I want to have opinions that evolve as I learn more.
I want to think critically, ask hard questions, and sit with discomfort.
But I also want joy. And softness. And light. And wonder.
For me, the answer lives in the middle.
It’s the place where we refuse to choose between political outrage and magic and whimsy and instead hold both, making space to:
Embody the world we want to live in.
Practice joy not as escapism, but as resistance.
Live the creativity, tenderness, curiosity, and imagination we want to see and gently spread it outward, creating a ripple effect.
And here’s the part that really resonates with me:
Almost like the more outrage we feel, the more whimsical we become.
Because joy isn’t denial — it’s defiance.
Whimsy isn’t naïveté — it’s fuel.
Lightheartedness doesn’t erase seriousness — it sustains it.
Especially in school nursing.
When I show up grounded, creative, and fully myself, I’m modeling:
That you can care deeply without losing yourself.
That you can stay informed without being consumed.
That you can fight for change and still laugh, decorate your space, notice beauty, and believe in possibility.
It is not soft.
It’s strategic.
So here is a checklist
Magic & Whimsy
Joy, creativity, imagination, connection, softness, light
Political Outrage
Anger, advocacy, critical thinking, accountability, action
Not either/or.
Both/and.
This post is the first in a series, Both/And, exploring how we navigate these times as school nurses, as caregivers, as humans who refuse to choose between awareness and joy. It’s about holding political outrage in one hand and magic and whimsy in the other, and learning how to live and lead, balancing both.
I may not have the answers, but I know this: choosing the middle ground isn’t a sign of complacency. It’s courage. And it’s where I plan to keep showing up.
