I know I can't do it alone. So why do I keep trying, dang it?
The self-help industry sells us a solo journey. But inner work doesn't mean isolated work.
We were never meant to figure it out solo.
I'm in crunch time getting ready to host my first multi-week group program since peak pandemic. It’s been too much screen time, not enough body time. And in moments like these, my old pattern would usually kick in: the bumpy slide into isolation.
Growing up, I perceived depending on others to be an unsafe bet. (Ask me for the deets another time.) But suffice to say, my brain’s software programmed in some handy artificial safety through control and self-containment. "We're not doing that again. Let's just muscle through and develop a delightfully charming yet unapproachable demeanor instead."
As my brilliant co-lead Adea said so succinctly this morning: these patterns aren't logical — they're biological.
And they're culturally reinforced:
Overwork is virtuous, while rest is risky.
Fueling a career with coffee and trauma is celebrated.
It’s seen as normal to define our identity through our accomplishments.
No wonder we've got so many little lone wolves running around trying to run companies, homes, and healing... simultaneously... while dehydrated.
The truth we keep forgetting:
To develop as a human, I need people. And they need me.
Your nervous system extends into the world. It senses other people’s states. We learn how to work with feeling by connecting with others.
If we want a meaningful life of impact, this inter-dependence isn't nice-to-have. It's a biological prerequisite.
So we’re building this program for ourselves as much as for our students.
Those of us who prioritize growth and impact need a space to re-learn the essential human exercise of experiencing the messy stuff together, and practicing working with the nervous system instead of overriding it.
The self-help industry sells us a solo journey:
"Do the inner work." "Fix your mindset." "Master your morning."
But inner work doesn't mean isolated work.
Working with hundreds of high-performers has shown:
You can't have healthy relationships with a neglected nervous system. And you can't recover nervous system function without relationships.
This goes beyond being calm or managing emotions or building resilience.
This is about reclaiming your full sensory aliveness that's been impatiently waiting for you to remember that lasting transformation happens through connection.
This round of our five-week program starts May 29.
We meet weekly as a group for 75 minutes, plus practice pods for 30 minutes.
If you've read this far, set up time with me on Monday to learn more.
I want to trust my instincts, have deep confidence, and move through the world with the lightness that comes from knowing I don't have to carry it all.
And I want that for you, too.
We were never meant to figure it out solo.
Absolutely, Oren—our nervous systems truly are wired for connection, and trying to muscle through solo often just deepens the isolation loop. Reclaiming sensory aliveness happens when we lean into each other’s support, co-regulate, and practice the messy work together.
Absolutely, Oren—our nervous systems truly are wired for connection, and trying to muscle through solo often just deepens the isolation loop. Reclaiming sensory aliveness happens when we lean into each other’s support, co-regulate, and practice the messy work together.