By Jeanni Ritchie
“Doing the work.”
It’s one of those phrases you hear often, but no one really explains what it means. It can sound a little vague, maybe even a little “new agey,” depending on who’s saying it.
For a long time, I didn’t know what it meant either. I just knew I wasn’t okay—and that whatever I was doing wasn’t working.
The two biggest barriers I faced when it came to my mental wellness were learning how to manage my thoughts and how to regulate my emotions. My mind would spiral, and my feelings would follow. Or my emotions would take over, and my thoughts would justify them. Either way, I felt stuck in a cycle I couldn’t seem to break.
For over two years, I made intentional, daily changes in an effort to regain control of both. Not overnight, not perfectly, and not without setbacks—but consistently.
That’s when I realized: this is what people mean when they talk about “doing the work.”
It isn’t one big breakthrough moment. It’s not a single decision or a one-time fix. It’s a series of small, repeated choices that, over time, begin to reshape the way you think, respond, and live.
For me, doing the work looked like this:
Let Music Do the Heavy Lifting
There’s comfort in listening to songs that validate your feelings. Sad? Angry? Vengeful? Lonely? Feeling crazy? Hearing music that commiserates with your pain is oddly reassuring.
But it does nothing to help you improve your mindset.
I knew how others were seeing me—angry, confused, and slightly unhinged. That was kinder than how I saw myself. Because faith is an important part of my mental health journey, I needed to see myself as God saw me.
I created a playlist of songs that spoke life and encouragement into my soul. I listened to the entire playlist every morning when I woke up. Wonderfully Made by Matthew West reminded me that God didn’t make a mistake when He created me. Higher by Unspoken gave me the fire to keep walking in truth and light when things went wrong.
After a couple of months of starting my day listening to worship music—as well as choosing it when my tears left me unable to speak—I found myself gaining strength. The lyrics seeped into my subconscious as well, and I found myself preferring the uplifting tunes all day long. I still listen to Christian music the majority of the time—it feeds positivity into my mental health.
Cry, Cry, Cry
For a while I was crying buckets of tears every day. As the tears slowed to a trickle, I was relieved that my crying phase was finally ending. It often led to pity parties or deep despair. I was ready to shut off the waterworks forever.
But sometimes bottled-up emotions are worse than released ones, so I made a new rule: I would set a timer for ten minutes, cry and allow myself to “feel the feels.” When the timer went off, I’d go to the bathroom and splash water on my face—shutting off the tears and the faucet simultaneously.
I no longer need the timer—the tears do still come at times, but the pattern has changed.
Relax, Not Escape
A few years ago I watched hours of television daily as a form of escapism. It was not healthy. But then I swung in the opposite direction—and I wouldn’t watch TV at all, feeling that downtime was not just unproductive, but sinful. That was not only untrue, it was unhealthy as well.
My mind needed a buffer zone between producing and resting, a period of time to relax and power down mentally. I began watching a sitcom before bed—something to signal my brain it was time to unwind. I also chose a nostalgic show like The Brady Bunch to make my heart feel lighter when things in my life felt heavy.
Whatever I chose to enjoy—whether a television show, a playground swing, or an afternoon movie—I learned to use as relaxation, not escapism.
Pivot! Pivot! Pivot!
The TV show Friends is one of my favorite stress-busters, and Ross Geller gave me a line I tell myself often. “Pivot! Pivot! Pivot!”
For a Type A multitasker, having to adjust carefully thought-out plans is like nails on a chalkboard. The problem is—even if you eventually pivot to Plan B—if your mind is still upset over the change, your joy is zapped.
Whether it’s a daily agenda, a birthday party, or a big presentation, the faster and more pragmatically you adapt to changes, the smoother things go for everyone.
When plans begin to show even the slightest sign of derailment, I hear Ross in my head and begin to laugh. Time to pivot, I think. Especially when traveling. I have discovered that some of the greatest adventures come from unplanned detours.
Don’t Stack the Past Onto the Present
One of the hardest lessons to learn in controlling my mind was not to compound the interest. If I was upset over a situation with someone, I could not bring the receipts from past conflicts to the table.
Recognizing a pattern is helpful, especially when discerning whether or not you need to set boundaries. But bringing up the past in order to stack charges in the present is a trap. Whether it’s a conflict with another person or frustration with your own failures, learning to focus only on the present keeps molehills from growing into mountains.
Grace Under Pressure
I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve. I wanted to learn how to toughen up a bit, without hardening my heart. I began to filter things through a practical lens, evaluating the dynamics before allowing my emotions to enter the picture.
One of the toughest areas was caregiving for a parent with dementia. Unhappiness on her part—especially when directed at me—sent me spiraling. It was an adjustment period, and one I’m still navigating. I have discovered the power of co-regulation in a home—how one’s emotional barometer can affect the rest of the family. That’s why I try to keep my emotions on an optimistic, even keel. It is not only for me, but for my parents, that I strive to bring positivity to each and every day.
I invariably fail from time to time, and then I must give myself grace!
Keep Moving Forward
Learning to manage your thoughts and regulate your emotions is vastly different from not having any problems. There is still heartbreak, frustration, and occasional chaos. But controlling your mind—instead of letting it control you—changes the outcome.
It doesn’t magically solve conflicts or force reconciliation. It doesn’t facilitate forgiveness or change the past. But it does allow you to walk in joy and peace, without the shackles of mental torment weighing you down.
I have many regrets in life. Some have had consequences that affected my relationships with others. Others once played on an endless loop in my mind. I had to stop the tape, forgive myself, and ask others for forgiveness. Not everyone met me there, and I had to learn to be okay with that before I could move forward.
Once I did, I was pleasantly surprised to that moving forward—with confidence and determination—not only changed how others saw me, but how I saw myself.
“Doing the work” turned out not to be mystical at all. In fact, none of these things were complicated on their own. Most of them were surprisingly simple. But the consistency—that was the work.
Research shows that our brains are capable of change through repetition and intentional behavior. It’s often referred to as neuroplasticity—the idea that we can form new patterns of thinking over time. In everyday terms, it means the more we practice a different response, the more natural it becomes.
And that’s exactly what started to happen.
The thoughts didn’t stop overnight. The emotions didn’t disappear. But they no longer controlled me the way they once did. I had tools. I had awareness. I had a choice in how I responded.
“Doing the work” isn’t about becoming a completely different person. It’s about becoming more aware of how you think and feel—and choosing, little by little, to respond differently.
It’s not always easy. It’s not always quick. And it’s definitely not perfect.
But it is possible.
And sometimes, it starts with something as simple as deciding you’re ready to try.
Jeanni Ritchie is a contributing journalist from Central Louisiana who blends faith with mental health positivity, and adds a dash of pop culture in her writing. She can be reached at jeanniritchie54@gmail.com.
