I think one of the biggest lies we quietly tell ourselves is that one day we’ll finally feel ready. Ready to start the business. Ready to write the book. Ready to move across the country. Ready to call ourselves a writer, an artist, an entrepreneur, or whatever identity feels just out of reach. We imagine there will be a moment when the stars align, our confidence catches up, and someone finally gives us permission to begin. I have waited to be ready for each of those things. I’ve been waiting for that moment for years. It never came. What came instead was something much better: I started anyway.

Subscribe now

Looking back, almost everything that has brought me the greatest joy started exactly that way. My Substack didn’t exist until I decided to build the kind of publication I wished existed. I wanted constant reminders to stay present, reminders of why this beautiful world was worthwhile. I wanted to remember to think outside of the box and stay curious. And so I created an account where I do that. The Art of Staying (my guest author series on finding meaning and purpose in life) wasn’t something I discovered—it was something I created because I couldn’t find it anywhere else. I wanted to feel less alone in the world, and I wanted to know I wasn’t the only one trying to create something exceptional. And through the series I have found so many people living ordinary and yet extraordinary lives. Even planning our wedding has reminded me of this. My favorite details aren’t the ones copied perfectly from someone else’s Pinterest board. They’re the ones Patrick and I dreamed up ourselves because they reflected us. I’ve started to think that’s true of almost everything worthwhile. If you want something to exist in the world exactly the way you imagine it, there comes a point where you have to stop looking around to see if someone else has already built it. You become the builder. In true Gandhi fashion you have to “be the change you wish to see in the world.”

The older I get, the more convinced I become that our lives are shaped less by external opportunities and more by whether we’re willing to trust our own internal wisdom. We spend so much time asking other people what they think we should do that we slowly lose touch with the quieter voice inside us that usually knew the answer long before we asked the question. It isn’t loud. It doesn’t arrive wrapped in certainty. More often it sounds like curiosity. It’s the idea that keeps returning no matter how many times you dismiss it. It’s the project you can’t stop thinking about. It’s the life that keeps tapping you on the shoulder while you’re busy trying to convince yourself it’s impractical. I keep coming back to this topic and writing about it (check it out here and here and here) because it is the thing people persistently ask me about. So many of us are struggling to hear our own voice amidst the noise of the world.

The truth is, no one is ever going to care about your dream as much as you do. That isn’t sad; it’s exactly the way it’s supposed to be. No one else has lived your life. No one else has your exact combination of experiences, strengths, frustrations, and hopes. Why would anyone else understand your vision before you’ve even built it? Waiting for other people to fully understand what you’re trying to create before you begin is often just another way of postponing the work. Sometimes belief comes after the building, not before it.

Leave a comment

I’ve also noticed that life has a remarkable way of aligning around movement. We spend so much time trying to find the perfect first step that we forget clarity is almost always discovered while we’re already walking. You meet people you never would have met. You learn skills you never realized you needed. You change direction because the path itself teaches you something you couldn’t have learned standing still. Looking back, every meaningful opportunity in my life came because I was already moving toward something, not because I had every detail figured out in advance.

I think one of the biggest reasons we hesitate is because we’ve confused confidence with readiness. We assume confident people start things, when in reality confident people are usually just the ones who have been doing the thing longer. Confidence isn’t something you wait for; it’s something you earn. Expertise isn’t something you’re born with, you build it piece by piece. Every person you admire has a version of themselves who had absolutely no idea what they were doing. There was a first article, a first patient, a first business meeting, a first speech, a first painting. You think my first patient encounter went well? Absolutely not. I put my foot in my mouth, I hesitated, the order in which I asked my questions made no logical sense. It is physically painful to do something and be horribly bad at it. Nobody skips that chapter. The people who eventually become experts simply refused to let being a beginner convince them they should quit. They keep showing up. They keep practicing and improving inch by painful inch. Everyday I kept showing up in medicine, I kept putting my foot in my mouth. I kept trying to say things a little smoother, ask questions a bit more cleanly. And eventually it did get easier. I did it enough that it became second nature. I hardly even think about the questions or my mannerisms anymore. I have gained confidence and expertise.

That’s why I think curiosity is one of the greatest strengths we can cultivate. Knowledge really is power, and one of the most empowering things you can do is learn how something works from the ground up. Ask the questions that feel embarrassingly simple. Read the books. Watch the tutorials. Find the people who have already walked the road you’re beginning and let them teach you what they know. Curiosity has carried me much farther than confidence ever has because curiosity keeps you growing long after confidence would have told you you’ve already arrived.

Building something meaningful also requires choosing your people wisely. Brené Brown talks about “candle blowers”—the people who instinctively diminish someone else’s light instead of helping it grow. We all encounter them eventually. Sometimes they’re strangers. Sometimes they’re people we love. They may think they’re protecting us, but their doubt often becomes another reason we hesitate. You don’t need people to hand you permission before you begin. You need people who will help tend your flame after you’ve already decided to start. The best people in your life won’t build your dream for you, but they’ll remind you to keep going on the days you forget why you started. I cannot even describe the number of times I came home and told my partner the embarrassing things I had done at work during those painful training years. His response often was to laugh. Yes, laugh. He was so sure that the person I had been did not accurately represent me or my potential so much so that he found humor in my stories. And while I didn't always return the sentiment, he helped me appreciate the humor in it all. The self inflicted torture that I was continuing to endure by remaining serious about it. The way in which just laughing about it, made it more bearable and easier to overcome. It helped to reframe the way I went into work the next day. “What ridiculous thing am I going to do today?” When the people around you love you so deeply and know you so well that they can see your potential even when you are doubting it, it keeps you going.

Subscribe now

And maybe you’ve already started. If you have, this is your reminder not to stop. Most worthwhile things ask far more of us than inspiration. They ask for persistence. They ask us to keep improving, to keep asking questions, to keep making mistakes, and to keep showing up anyway. If something isn’t working, change it. If you fail, learn from it. Then let it go. Mistakes aren’t evidence that you weren’t meant to do the work; they’re just evidence that you’re actually doing the work.

And I will say this too about those who will inevitably judge the work you are doing, because I think fear of criticism is what holds so many people back from trying. The only people who I allow to criticize me are the people doing the same work. If you aren’t out here putting out articles on Substack and hoping people read them and resonate with them, you don’t get to tell me whether or not I am doing it right. I mean you can but I won’t bother listening to it. Because there is great vulnerability in the trying and no one will understand that if they aren’t doing it too. My favorite Teddy Roosevelt quote:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

Share

I think one of the most beautiful parts of becoming good at something is how completely we forget what it felt like to be new. One day you’ll look back and laugh at the things that once intimidated you because they’ve become so ordinary. The conversations that terrified you will become second nature. The skills that felt impossible will eventually feel effortless. Not because someone finally gave you permission to succeed, but because somewhere along the way you stopped waiting for permission altogether. You trusted yourself enough to begin, stayed curious enough to keep learning, and remained persistent enough to become the person you once wished you could be.

If you have been waiting for a sign to start a new adventure in life, let this be it for you. Don’t waste the precious time you have been given on this earth waiting for permission. Go out and create the thing the world needs. I believe in you.

Leave a comment

If you enjoyed this article and should you feel so inclined, you can Buy Me a Coffee here. Between my work at the hospital, planning a wedding, and writing on Substack, I am officially chronically overworked and under caffeinated. No complaints. I love this life. But acts of kindness always help motivate me to keep going even when things get hard :)

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

There are plenty of articles on Substack explaining how to grow your publication.

This is not meant to be another one.

I’m not claiming to have cracked the algorithm or discovered some secret formula. I’m also not pretending to have built one of the largest publications on the platform. After about six months, I’ve grown to a little under 1,000 subscribers, including paid subscribers, and I still feel like I’m just getting started.

What I can offer is something much simpler: an honest reflection on what has genuinely worked for me.

Subscribe now

Before we dive in, I also want to normalize something.

It’s okay to want your Substack to grow.

Somewhere along the way, we’ve started treating ambition as though it’s incompatible with authenticity. It isn’t. There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting people to read your work. There is nothing wrong with hoping to build a community, create opportunities, earn an income, promote your business, sell a book, or simply know that your writing is reaching someone who needed it.

Growth isn’t the problem.

The way we pursue it sometimes is.

That being said, you can have a meaningful community with only 2 subscribers and that can be defined as success here too. It really just depends on your own definition of success. What are you looking to build here? What is success to you? No one can define that but you.

Leave a comment

If I could offer one piece of caution before sharing what has worked for me, it would be this: be intentional about who you accept growth advice from.

There are many talented writers whose entire publication is devoted to teaching people how to grow on Substack. Their advice can absolutely be valuable, and I’ve learned things from many of them. Take everything with a grain of salt, so they say. But remember that they’re building a publication about growing publications. Unless that’s the kind of publication you also hope to build, I don’t think they’re always the best people to model.

Instead, find writers who are creating the kind of work you want to create. If you write about philosophy, learn from writers who have built thoughtful philosophy publications. If you write about medicine, relationships, travel, politics, gardening, fiction, finance, or parenting, study the people succeeding in those spaces. Not because you should imitate them, but because they’ll teach you how to communicate ideas like yours to readers who genuinely care about them.

The goal isn’t simply to gain subscribers, it’s to build a publication people want to return to.

With that in mind, here are the practices that have consistently made the biggest difference for me over the past six months.

1. Collaborate. Then keep collaborating.

If I had to point to one thing that changed the trajectory of my publication, it would be collaboration.

Early on, I started inviting writers to contribute to The Art of Staying, a guest series centered around one deceptively simple question: What is the point of all of this?

I had no grand strategy. I simply admired other writers and wanted to create something together. I thought sharing their work to my page and me sharing my work to theirs would increase visibility to both of our pages with communities that already align with the audience I am trying to build. Looking back, I don’t think I fully appreciated what those collaborations would become.

Every guest essay introduced me to another thoughtful writer. Every writer introduced me to another community. Their readers discovered my work, my readers discovered theirs, and everyone walked away with something they didn’t have before. More importantly, those collaborations slowly became friendships. Some of the people I now talk with most regularly on Substack are people I originally met because one of us simply reached out and said, “Would you like to write together?”

I think this is where many people accidentally limit their own growth. They collaborate once. Maybe twice. Then they move on to the next strategy.

But collaboration isn’t a box to check. It’s a rhythm to build into your publication. Every relationship naturally leads to another introduction, another conversation, another opportunity to write alongside someone whose readers may have never found you otherwise. That momentum compounds in a way that’s difficult to appreciate until you’ve been doing it for months.

If you’ve ever thought about contributing to The Art of Staying, I’d genuinely love to have you. There are no deadlines, no pressure, and no expectation that you have everything figured out. Contributions are welcome whenever inspiration strikes, whether that’s next week or next year.

I also believe collaboration should always be reciprocal. If you take the time to write for my publication, I’d be happy to write a guest piece for yours as well. That’s how communities are built. Not through transactions, but through generosity.

Substack has reminded me that writing doesn’t have to be a solitary pursuit. Sometimes the fastest way to grow is simply to grow alongside someone else.

2. The writers who master Notes rarely stay hidden for long. Writing great Notes is an art form—and it’s probably where most of your subscribers will come from.

(Paid subscribers continue reading below.)

Read more

Today is Juneteenth, a day that commemorates the end of slavery in the United States and reminds us that freedom, justice, and equality have always required people willing to confront difficult truths.

I actually had a different article planned for today. But this morning I found myself thinking about a different kind of truth. Not historical truth, but personal truth. The truth that none of us arrive in this world knowing everything we need to know.

Yet increasingly, it feels like we expect people to.

Subscribe now

I’ve mentioned before but it remains true here too- we live in a culture that demands immediate understanding. We expect people to have the correct opinions, the correct language, the correct perspective, and the correct response at all times. We expect them to understand complex social issues, historical context, and lived experiences, often before they’ve had the opportunity to learn. When they fall short, the response is often swift and unforgiving. It was only a number of years ago that I did not understand the importance of this day and I found myself afraid to ask because it felt like something I should already know. I felt ashamed for not knowing but not in a way that would encourage me to ask, the kind of way that encouraged silence. It wasn’t until several WEEKS after the day that I found myself digging deeper and learning.

To be clear, I am not arguing against accountability. Quite the opposite. Harm should be acknowledged. Ignorance should be challenged. Bad behavior should have consequences. Accountability matters because our actions matter. The impact we have on other people matters. A healthy society cannot function if we refuse to confront harmful behavior when it occurs.

The problem arises when accountability quietly transforms into something else. Somewhere along the way, we began treating mistakes as permanent character assessments rather than opportunities for growth. We stopped asking whether someone understood the harm they caused and started asking whether they deserved to remain part of the conversation at all.

Those are very different questions.

Holding someone accountable means requiring them to face the consequences of their actions. Cancelling someone means deciding their actions are the entirety of who they are. One focuses on behavior. The other defines a human being. And while that distinction may seem subtle, I think it changes everything.

The reason I feel strongly about this is because every single one of us is standing on a mountain of things we did not know five years ago. I know I am. There are beliefs I once held that I no longer hold. There are perspectives I failed to understand. There are experiences I could not appreciate because I had not lived them. There are things I said with confidence that I would say differently today. That isn’t hypocrisy. It’s growth. I had to step out of the ideals that had been given to me and learn for myself what I believed. I had to questions what was taught and seek out answers.

Subscribe now

In many ways, learning is simply a series of realizations that you were wrong about something. That’s true whether you’re learning medicine, relationships, business, history, or yourself. Growth requires enough humility to admit that your current understanding may not be your final understanding.

The irony is that the people who appear most certain are often learning the least. Curiosity requires openness. It requires the willingness to encounter information that challenges your worldview. It requires the courage to sit with discomfort long enough for understanding to emerge. None of that happens when the social consequences of being wrong become so severe that people are afraid to engage honestly.

The people who changed my mind throughout my life were rarely the people who shamed me. They were the people who challenged me. They asked better questions. They offered different perspectives. They invited me to think more deeply than I had before. They held me accountable while still believing I was capable of becoming better. Looking back, that combination was far more transformative than condemnation ever could have been.

I think we have created a false choice between accountability and compassion, as though we must choose one or the other. But accountability without grace often becomes punishment, while grace without accountability becomes avoidance. Neither creates meaningful change. Real growth happens when we are honest enough to acknowledge harm and hopeful enough to believe people can learn from it.

What concerns me most is that we may be creating a culture where admitting you were wrong is more dangerous than remaining wrong. If every mistake becomes evidence that a person is irredeemable (yes I’m talking about cancel culture here), then people have little incentive to be honest about their blind spots, misunderstandings, or failures. They become defensive rather than reflective. And defensiveness has never been a particularly effective teacher.

Share

Every meaningful lesson I have learned in my life began with discovering I was wrong about something. Every single one. That realization was sometimes uncomfortable, occasionally embarrassing, and almost always necessary. If we genuinely want people to grow, we have to leave room for that process.

Let it be said that there are way too many white men getting away with shit in this world than should ever be okay. I am by no means excusing their actions. There SHOULD be accountability for each and every one of them. That does not mean excusing harmful behavior. It does not mean avoiding difficult conversations. It does not mean lowering our standards. It means remembering that accountability is supposed to be a bridge rather than a destination. The goal is not humiliation. The goal is transformation.

Juneteenth reminds us that progress has always required people willing to confront uncomfortable truths. But progress has also required people willing to believe that change is possible. History itself is evidence that people, institutions, and societies can evolve.

The question is whether we still believe individuals can too.

I hope we do.

Because every one of us is a work in progress. And if we lose sight of that, we lose one of the most powerful forces for change that has ever existed: the human capacity to learn, grow, and become something better than we were before.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

Subscribe now

Most of us spend years speaking in borrowed language. We learn what is acceptable to say, what earns approval, what keeps the peace, and what allows us to belong. We become fluent in other people’s expectations long before we become fluent in ourselves. We know how to give the right answer, wear the right mask, and play the right role. Yet somewhere along the way, many of us lose touch with the quiet voice underneath it all—the one that knows what we truly think, feel, and believe.

And if you’ve done this, you’re not broken. You’re human.

The need to belong is not a character flaw. It is a survival instinct. For most of human history, acceptance by the group wasn’t just emotionally comforting—it was necessary for survival. We are wired to seek connection. We are wired to avoid rejection. We are wired to look around and ask, “What is everyone else doing?” before asking ourselves, “What do I actually want?”

When you look at it that way, it makes perfect sense that so many of us struggle to hear our own voice. We’ve spent years becoming experts in reading the room. Sometimes we’re so busy reading the room that we forget to read ourselves.

Brené Brown often speaks about courage not as a lack of fear, but as the willingness to show up authentically despite fear. That idea has stayed with me because finding your voice is not really about confidence. It is about courage. It is about having the bravery to listen to yourself when your truth may be unpopular, inconvenient, or misunderstood. It is about trusting your own experience enough to stop outsourcing your identity to everyone around you.

Glennon Doyle describes this inner knowing as a voice that exists beneath the noise. A voice that is often drowned out by obligation, expectation, and the endless opinions of others. She writes about the importance of becoming quiet enough to hear it. I think that is where finding your voice begins—not by speaking more, but by listening more deeply.

Subscribe now

In a previous article, I wrote about staying curious with yourself. About asking yourself what you want before assuming you already know the answer. I think curiosity is one of the most overlooked tools we have for finding our voice. Instead of judging ourselves, we can become students of ourselves. Instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?” we can ask, “What is this trying to tell me?” Instead of assuming we should already know, we can get curious.

The problem is that most of us have been trained to look outside ourselves for answers. We seek validation before making decisions. We poll friends before trusting our instincts. We search for certainty before taking action. We assume that someone else must know better than we do.

To be clear, I am not suggesting you make every major life decision based on a vague feeling you had while standing in the grocery store produce aisle. Wisdom matters. Advice matters. Community matters. But there is a difference between gathering information and abandoning yourself.

If you pay attention, there is often a moment before the advice arrives, before the opinions flood in, when you already know. There is a feeling in your chest, a pull in your gut, a quiet whisper that says yes, no, stay, leave, speak, wait. The voice is rarely loud. The challenge is learning to trust it.

I think we often imagine that people who have found their voice move through life with unwavering certainty. But in my experience, that isn’t true at all. Most brave people are not certain. They are simply willing to act in alignment with what they know, even while carrying doubt. Courage is not the absence of fear. It is the decision that your truth matters more than your fear.

Share

Finding your voice also requires letting go of the belief that everyone will understand you. One of the hardest lessons I have learned is that authenticity and approval are not always compatible. The more honest you become, the more likely it is that some people will disagree with you, disappoint you, or misunderstand you. Yet the alternative is spending your life performing a version of yourself that feels acceptable while quietly losing touch with who you really are.

The irony is that when we stop trying to sound impressive, we often become more powerful. When we stop speaking from obligation and start speaking from conviction, people can feel the difference. There is a certain clarity that comes from truth. It doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It simply needs to be real.

Perhaps finding your voice is not about becoming someone new, but about returning to yourself. Peeling away the layers of conditioning, expectation, and fear until you can finally hear the wisdom that has been there all along. The voice that knows what matters. The voice that knows when something is wrong. The voice that knows when something is right. The voice that knows who you are.

Last week, I encouraged you to say what you mean and mean what you say. This week, I want to encourage you to do something that comes first. Get quiet. Stay curious. Pay attention to the wisdom that exists beneath the noise. Trust the voice that speaks before the world has a chance to tell you what to think.

Your voice is already there.

The brave part is listening.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

“Say what you mean and mean what you say.”

Lately, I have found myself returning to this phrase more often than usual.

The thought first surfaced after a series of recent experiences on Substack. Through collaboration efforts with other writers, I have had the opportunity to see both the best and, occasionally, the more frustrating aspects of online communication.

Subscribe now

One experience involved a collaborative article written by two authors. A reader left a thoughtful comment, but directed it toward only one author, seemingly unaware that there was a second contributor to the piece. Now, there is nothing wrong with taking away one particular insight from an article. Readers connect with different ideas and naturally focus on what resonates most with them. But failing to recognize an entire contributor points to something deeper than simply missing a detail. It suggests that we are often so eager to respond that we forget to fully absorb what is in front of us.

What stood out to me, however, was not the oversight itself. It was how quickly my co-authors addressed it. There was no hesitation. They immediately corrected the misunderstanding and acknowledged the contributions of both writers. Not because they were worried about appearances, but because they understood something fundamental: recognition matters. Respect matters. Giving proper credit matters. It was a small moment, but one that revealed a great deal about character. Intentional communication is not simply about choosing the right words. It is about paying attention. It is about ensuring that what we say reflects reality rather than convenience. It is about recognizing the people around us and honoring the contributions they make. In a world that often encourages speed over thoughtfulness, I was reminded that integrity frequently reveals itself in the smallest acts. (Let me just take a second to call out these lovely co-authors because I think their integrity should be noted: & . Two exceptional pages to follow).

Another experience involved a contributor to my guest series, The Art of Staying. Whenever I invite someone to contribute, I grant them access to review and edit the final draft before publication. To me, that is not merely a courtesy—it is a matter of respect. No one’s words should ever be published without their knowledge, consent, and approval. When I later contributed to a collaborative piece in return, I requested the same consideration. What followed was a conversation in which my desire to review the final version of a piece carrying my name was framed as a lack of trust.

I disagreed.

Feel free to let me know your thoughts on this in the comments below.

Leave a comment

As a physician, I am acutely aware that anything attached to my name carries responsibility. Whether it is a patient chart, a public statement, or a written article, words matter. Reviewing a final piece before publication is not distrustful. It is accountable. Eventually, apologies were exchanged and the situation was resolved, but the interaction lingered with me because it highlighted something I think many of us encounter in everyday life: how often people hear something other than what was actually said.

And that is what this article is really about.

Not Substack.

Not collaborative writing.

Not internet misunderstandings.

It is about intention.

It is about the widening gap between what people say, what people hear, and what people actually mean.

We live in a culture that rewards immediacy. We are encouraged to respond quickly, react instantly, and formulate opinions before we have fully understood the situation before us. The result is that communication often becomes performative rather than thoughtful. We stop listening in order to understand and begin listening only long enough to formulate our response.

The consequences extend far beyond conversations. They shape our relationships, our careers, our communities, and ultimately our lives.

Because the truth is that the way we communicate reflects the way we live.

People often think intentional living is about morning routines, meditation practices, gratitude journals, or carefully curated habits. While those things certainly have their place, I believe intentional living begins somewhere much more fundamental. It begins with awareness. Specifically, awareness of our thoughts, our motives, our actions, and the words we choose to carry them into the world.

Every day we are presented with countless opportunities to either act intentionally or react automatically. We can pause before speaking or we can blurt out the first thought that enters our minds. We can seek understanding or rush toward assumption. We can choose honesty or convenience. These choices may seem small, but over time they become the architecture of our lives.

Share

The older I get, the more I believe that integrity is simply alignment. Alignment between what we believe and how we behave. Alignment between what we value and how we spend our time. Alignment between what we say and then what we do. Most people already know what matters to them. The challenge is not discovering our values. The challenge is living consistently enough that our actions reflect them.

The same principle applies to communication. To say what you mean requires self-awareness. To mean what you say requires courage. It requires us to be clear rather than vague, honest rather than performative, and accountable rather than defensive. It asks us to take responsibility for our words while remaining open to the possibility that we may not always get them right.

Intentional communication is not about perfection. It is about presence.

If you’ve been reading my work for a while now, you know that I attribute much of my personal growth to Brené Brown, and this particular value is no exception. Years ago, I used to listen regularly to her podcast, which she often referred to as a “pause-cast.” I loved that description. Rather than rushing to answer questions or immediately formulate an opinion, she would often sit with people’s words. She would pause. She would think. She would allow space for reflection before responding.

That idea landed with me so forcefully that it almost became a personality trait overnight. God bless the humans who had to deal with me during that phase of life! At first, I probably took it a little too far. Conversations occasionally felt like verbal chess matches where everyone was waiting for me to make my next move. Thankfully, I got better at it with time. What remained, however, was a deep appreciation for the value of the pause.

The pause creates space for intention. It allows us to move beyond reaction and toward reflection. It gives us an opportunity to ask ourselves what we actually think, what we actually feel, and what we actually want to say before we open our mouths.

If you ask my now fiancé, he will tell you it was something he noticed about me on our very first date. He would ask me a question and I would pause before answering. Not because I was nervous. Not because I didn’t know what to say. But because I genuinely wanted to consider the question and respond thoughtfully. As a man with ADHD, he struggled with it a bit at first. He likes movement, momentum, and quick exchanges. My pauses occasionally left him wondering whether I was still processing or had simply drifted away.

Subscribe now

Over time, though, something interesting happened. He began slowing down too. Not entirely, of course—I wouldn’t want him to lose what makes him who he is—but enough to recognize the value of responding with greater intention. And I, in turn, learned that not every response requires a prolonged moment of reflection. As with most things in life, and what I am learning is gravely important in romantic relationships, we met somewhere in the middle.

What I came to realize through those conversations is that the pause is not really about silence. It is about respect. Respect for the person asking the question. Respect for the conversation itself. And perhaps most importantly, respect for your own words. Because once words leave your mouth, they have a way of taking on a life of their own. The pause gives us one final opportunity to make sure they are the words we truly intend to say.

Words do more than describe our lives.

They create them.

The language we use shapes our relationships. It influences our opportunities. It determines whether trust grows or erodes. It colors the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and what is possible.

Every meaningful life is ultimately built upon thousands of small decisions. What we pursue. What we tolerate. What we celebrate. What we release. And among those decisions, few are more consequential than how we choose to communicate with ourselves and with others.

Perhaps that is why I keep returning to this simple phrase.

Say what you mean.

Mean what you say.

Hidden within those seven words is an entire philosophy for living. Know your values. Speak them clearly. Act accordingly. Let your words and your actions tell the same story.

Because a life lived with intention begins long before the grand decisions.

It begins in the conversations we have every day.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

I joined Substack 6 months ago. Over the past six months, this space has become less about me having something figured out and more about trying to make sense of what it means to be human in real time in connection with others here.

Subscribe now

Maybe you’re here because you’re tired. Perhaps because you’re ambitious but quietly wondering if the life you built still fits. Maybe you’ve been holding everything together for so long that no one thinks to ask if you need holding, too. Maybe you came to my page for the wellness, the medicine, the ER stories, the occasional supplement opinion, or because you also contain multitudes and a mildly concerning number of browser tabs. I see you. I find great value in normalizing the human things.

Whatever brought you here, I hope somewhere along the way you found a sentence that made you feel a little less alone. Because through my own reflections, that is what I have found here, too. Connection. The kind I did not fully expect when I started writing into the void and hoping it would land somewhere soft. Instead, this space has become more meaningful than I could have imagined — not just because of what I have shared, but because of what has been reflected back: your stories, your messages, your quiet “me too” moments, and the reminder that honesty has a way of finding its people.

Below is a summary of every piece I’ve written here over the past six months. If one of them catches something in you, I hope you’ll take a moment to read it, sit with it, and maybe even leave a like or comment if it resonates. Your reflections on the things I’m learning out loud, often in real time, mean more to me than I can probably explain without becoming emotionally dramatic — which, admittedly, is very on brand. I hope you find something here today that feels worth your time.

Share

January: Beginning Again

I Used To Ask Myself Why I Bothered With A Social Media Platform And Then I Realized Why It Actually Matters

This piece was about making peace with showing up online. Not because social media is inherently noble — let’s not get carried away — but because connection, education, and storytelling matters in a space that often feels loud, performative, and algorithmically unwell.

I Wondered Why I Spent So Much Time Making It To The Top Of My Career Only To Find I Didn’t Like It Until I Did This Reframe

This was a reflection on the strange grief of getting what you thought you wanted and realizing it does not feel the way you imagined. It explores ambition, identity, and the uncomfortable but necessary work of redefining success after you have already done everything “right.”

The Only Supplements Worth Taking

A practical, science-backed look at which supplements are actually worth considering and which ones are just contributing to very expensive urine…but with better branding. Because wellness should be evidence-informed, not just sponsored by someone with abs and a ring light.

Start Here, Stay As Long As You’d Like

Alright, I probably should have started with this piece. But I’m not perfect and it came when I realized it was needed. This is the real doorway into the space I wanted to create: a place for honesty, reflection, healing, and the slow work of building a life that feels more like your own. Less “optimize yourself into oblivion,” more “come sit down, you’re allowed to be a person here.”

When I Think About How I Want To Die, I Remember This One Patient Interaction That Shaped My Perspective

This piece centered on a patient interaction that changed the way I think about death, dignity, medicine, and presence. It was about the kind of moment that stays with you — not loudly, but permanently.

February: What Lives Beneath the Surface

These Simple Organization Tools Made Me the Most Successful Person In The Room

This was a practical piece about the systems and habits that make life feel less chaotic. Not because organization makes you morally superior, but because having a plan is sometimes the only thing standing between you and answering emails from a place of pure spiritual collapse. Presence over perfection people. This is about creating spaces that bring peace and help us stay more present/less distracted.

What My Patients Will Never Hear Me Say

An ER doctor’s reflection on the emotional restraint required in medicine and the quiet truths doctors often carry without saying out loud. It explores the gap between what we feel, what we can say, and what the role sometimes requires us to hold.

What Your Perfectionism Is Masking

This article looked at perfectionism as more than high standards. Often, it is fear in hiding. Control dressed up as excellence. A way of trying to become untouchable when what we really need is to feel safe being human. We need a bit more being human and a bit less showing up perfectly.

You Know It’s Coming And Yet You Can’t Avoid It: How To Coexist With Seasonal Depression

This piece was about the strange predictability of seasonal depression: knowing it is coming, preparing for it, and still having to live through it. It explores how to coexist with difficult seasons without pretending a sunrise lamp and a walk will magically fix your entire nervous system.

March: Emotional Honesty

Why the Most Capable People Are Often the Loneliest

This was about the hidden cost of being the person everyone relies on. Capability can be a gift, but it can also become a cage if no one remembers to ask whether the strong one is tired. This is one of my greatest personal struggles and something I am still actively learning in real time.

Inside the Soundtrack of an ER Shift

I refer to this as my fun article. A sensory reflection on the emergency room: the alarms, voices, interruptions, urgency, absurdity, grief, and strange rhythm of a shift. The ER has its own soundtrack, and unfortunately, none of it is relaxing spa music.

Man Up and Cry Already

This piece challenged the cultural messaging that teaches men to suppress emotion and then acts shocked when that suppression comes out sideways. It was an argument for crying as release, honesty, and strength — not weakness. And well it applies to everyone really.

The Moment I Realized I Was Living Someone Else’s Script

This is about the painful clarity that arrives when you realize the life you built may have been shaped more by expectation than desire. It explores the quiet, terrifying question: what if I did everything I was supposed to do, but forgot to ask what I actually wanted?

April: Boundaries, Systems, and Staying Soft

Social Media Isn’t the Problem—It’s You

This piece explores our collective relationship with social media and the uncomfortable truth that the platform is not always the whole problem. Sometimes it is our habits, our comparison, our avoidance, our need for validation, and our refusal to log off even when our brain is clearly begging us to touch grass.

Part 1 - You Don’t Have To Be A Complete Asshole

A note on how the worst things happen to the kindest patients and a question of whether there is a such thing as “too nice” a patient. An important message about advocating for yourself instead of only always trying to be easy going. Your health depends on it.

Part 2 - You Don’t Have To Be A Complete Asshole

The continuation of the previous conversation from the other side, exploring how professionalism, boundaries, honesty, and kindness can coexist. A reminder that being direct does not require being a jerk.

The Kind of Friendship That Keeps Your Flame Lit

A tribute to the friendships that restore us. The people who remind us who we are, keep us laughing, tell us the truth, and somehow make life feel lighter without asking us to be less honest about how heavy it can be.

May: Tenderness, Ritual, and Meaning

The Smallest Ritual, The Greatest Impact

This piece was about the tiny rituals that keep us tethered to ourselves. The small repeated acts that may look ordinary from the outside but quietly become structure, comfort, and proof that we are still here. For me, the warm cup of coffee in my hands each morning.

Nobody Warned Me About The Pain Of Watching My Dog Age

A tender reflection on anticipatory grief, love, loyalty, and the specific heartbreak of watching a beloved pet grow older. Because somehow dogs become family, emotional support, routine, witness, and tiny elderly roommates with increasingly expensive medical needs.

What The Pitt Gets Right About the Emergency Room, According to an ER Doctor

An ER doctor’s perspective on what the show captures accurately about emergency medicine: the pace, the interruptions, the emotional residue, the absurdity, and the way a shift can contain ten different human experiences before lunch.

The Art of Staying

Alongside my own writing, I also created The Art of Staying, a guest series about staying with yourself and building a life that feels like yours. While these pieces are not my own writing, they have become an important part of what this page is becoming: a place where the conversation is bigger than one voice. Contributors have each brought their own lens to resilience, belonging, grief, identity, tenderness, and the many ways people learn to remain present in their own lives.

Guest Author Pieces

I have contributed to a number of pieces on other peoples’ publications as well and have created a repository of these pieces on my website. Guest authoring has been one of the very best things I have done on this platform in terms of connection with others and growing my page to new audiences. Will release a piece on this in the coming weeks, subscribe so you don’t miss the drop.

Subscribe now

Looking Back

What connects all of these pieces is not one neat topic.

Thank God, honestly. I would hate to become too brand-consistent.

But underneath the range — medicine, wellness, ambition, death, friendship, grief, social media, organization, emotional honesty, dogs, supplements, and the occasional existential crisis — I think I have been writing about the same question:

How do we stay human in a world that makes it very easy not to?

How do we stay soft without becoming fragile?
How do we stay ambitious without abandoning ourselves?
How do we stay connected without performing connection?
How do we stay honest when pretending would be more convenient?
How do we stay present when life keeps asking us to hurry up and move on?

Six months in, I don’t think I have clean answers.

But I do think I have better questions.

And maybe that is what this space has been giving me all along: a place to ask them out loud, to follow the thread, to make meaning where I can, and to keep writing my way toward something truer.

If you’ve been here for one post, every post, or you accidentally clicked because Substack sent you an email at a vulnerable moment — thank you.

I’m glad you’re here.

Stay as long as you’d like.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

People talk about losing pets. Occasionally someone posts an old photo after their dog passes away and writes about how devastating it was. But almost nobody talks about the slow heartbreak that comes before that. The noticing.

The way they start getting up more carefully. The hesitation before jumping onto the couch. The grey spreading across their face little by little until one day you realize your puppy now looks old.

Nobody talks about the grief that begins long before they’re gone. Or perhaps better described as both dread (of the anticipation of their passing drawing nearer), and foreboding joy (stolen moments of joy to focus on their nearing death as a way of protecting/preparing yourself from the trauma of it).

Subscribe now

Our Family Dogs

Growing up my family had a Labrador named Parker that we had to give away after he got mean in old age and nipped at my brother. My parents told us he went to live with an elderly couple on a farm. I still remember the three of us kids huddled at the top of the stairs late at night, watching my parents give our dog away while they thought we were asleep.

Then there was Brie, a Bichon Frisé, who lived until she was 16. By the end she was skin and bones, deaf and blind, with patchy fur and oily skin. Us kids didn’t like petting her anymore because of this, but my mom still sat with her and rubbed her skin anyway. She eventually drowned in our pool. It was horribly traumatic for all of us.

Then came Brinkley, our Golden Retriever, and Wilkie, a Yorkiepoo. After Brie, my parents swore we would never let another dog decline that far again. So when Brinkley tore his ACL and surgery wasn’t something my parents could afford, we chose to put him to sleep instead of letting him continue in pain. We all stood around him while the drugs went through the IV, petting him and whispering words of love. In some ways it felt premature. In others, it felt kinder than what happened to Brie.

I remember these losses hurting deeply. I’d sit in class trying not to cry because grieving a pet felt silly at the time. But eventually I realized I wasn’t alone in that grief. Until you lose a pet of your own, it’s hard to understand how painful it really is. And although somewhat diminished in talking about it, people still generally understand losing pets is painful.

But these were family pets. They weren’t mine in the same way as adopting a dog in adulthood. As a child, loving a dog mostly meant cuddling and playing with them while someone else handled the caregiving. I didn’t yet understand the kind of attachment that comes from being fully responsible for a companion.

Share

Dogs of My Own

When I was in medical school and deeply alone, I selfishly decided it was time to get a dog of my own. I adopted a dog that had been abandoned in a box on the side of the highway. They named him Trooper because of the way he had survived there alone for an unknown amount of time.

I instantly fell in love because his story felt familiar to me. He felt like a kindred soul.

The vet thought he was still under a year old when I adopted him, still very much a puppy. He became my instant companion. He slept on my lap while I studied for hours on end, and eventually in bed beside me every night, his head resting on the pillow next to mine. He was completely attached to me from the start. If I left the house, he cried. Once, my sister tried taking him for a walk without me and he broke out of his collar just to run home.

The way my heart beats for this dog is different from any family pet I grew up with. Trooper was with me during some of the loneliest years of my life. My companion when I had no one else.

And Trooper is not an easy dog. He’s anxious, stubborn, whip-smart, and constantly scavenging for food. If something remotely edible exists, he will find it. I spent years wondering if I was doing something wrong until the vet finally told me some dogs are just scavengers.

It was easy for me to accept him exactly as he was. It was harder to find partners who could.

At one point I remember wishing for someone who could love this difficult dog the way I did. Someone who could look past all the frustrating parts and see the loving boy underneath them. Because he is loving. He’s the most loyal dog I’ve ever known. He hears me crying from across the house and comes running instantly to comfort me.

And then came Max, the second rescue I convinced myself we needed. I thought Trooper needed a friend. But the reality is, Max and Trooper just tolerate each other more than they love each other. Now, Max is easier to love upfront. He’s charming and easygoing in a way Trooper never has been. He’s a people pleaser at any party we host. Hardly ever gets caught doing something he shouldn’t be. But he’s also the type of dog that would leave the dog park with another family with a ball and never look back. He’s a people lover but he doesn’t necessarily care which people, if you know what I mean. I love him, but in a very different way than the bond I have with Trooper that was forged through fire and built on deep loyalty.

And then came my fiancé. Like most people, he fell in love with Max immediately. Trooper took more patience. More understanding. Even now, I think part of my fiancé remains personally offended by how often he gets outsmarted by a my little scavenger dog. But there was something deeply healing about finding someone who could love Trooper too — despite all the difficult parts of him. Because loving my dogs, especially the complicated one, always felt intertwined with loving me.

On Aging Dogs

This year Trooper turned eight and Max turned seven.

Just recently I noticed Trooper limping. Now, we had started taking much shorter walks in the winter because the cold is not tolerable for them — or me, if we’re being honest — in Chicago. But as the temperatures warmed and we started taking longer walks again, I noticed Trooper was having a harder time with them.

When he woke up one day limping, I sobbed. Enter, dread.

I think a part of me was remembering what happened with Brinkley. And though I have more means to afford surgery than my parents did at that time, I was still fearful of what it meant.

So I took Trooper to the vet a full two days after the limp had started. I wanted to give it time to resolve on its own if it was a non-issue before taking him in. But of course, the limp was persistent until the very moment Trooper arrived at the vet office, at which point it was suddenly and magically healed.

The vet reasonably didn’t believe any imaging was necessary, as anything that could magically heal that quickly was likely not a structural injury. But she warned me that this could be the first sign of arthritis.

Since the vet visit, I have spent unmentionable hours researching dog arthritis to ensure I was purchasing the top-of-the-line supplements backed by science. I am the master of intellectualizing any problem, ask my therapist. I’ve also been taking more time to notice.

I find myself looking for the limp.

I find myself noticing that he’s getting up slower. Even when he’s not limping, his movements seem more intentional. And we still go on long walks. He still runs up and down the fence every time the neighbor dog comes into the backyard. He still taps his little toes on the wood floors each morning in anticipation of his favorite meal of the day: breakfast.

His excitement still overrides the pain.

But I find myself fearful of the day the pain overrides the excitement. Enter, foreboding joy.

See, I wasn’t paying so much attention when I was little to the caregiving of our dogs. I felt pain when it was time to say goodbye or when that goodbye was ripped from us suddenly. But there’s an entirely different type of pain in the paying attention.

I see now why my mom sat on the floor and rubbed Brie’s greasy skin. I see now why my parents decided to put Brinkley down when it seemed premature to me at the time.

I see now, when I put the food bowl down every morning for Trooper, the way his face is greying.

I see now the way his body is changing with age.

I see now the way he’s becoming more stubborn, more set in his ways.

I watch for the limp, and while the limp hasn’t returned, the way he moves feels much more crystal clear now.

Why is nobody talking about how painful it is to watch your pets age?

Forget dying — I’ve already told myself I’ll do that part differently this time. I’ve already given myself permission to grieve openly. To fall apart if I need to. To honor my dogs in a way I didn’t fully understand how to before.

But nobody warned me about this part.

Nobody warned me that one day I would start studying the way he stands. That I would memorize the sound of his footsteps across the floor. That I would watch him sleep and quietly wonder how many more years, months, weeks we get exactly like this.

Nobody warned me that love could look like paying attention.

And maybe that’s why watching them age hurts so much. Because for the first time, you understand in real time that something precious is changing while you’re still holding it.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

Subscribe now

There’s something about the way a warm cup of coffee feels in your hands. The quiet heat of it, steady and grounding, like something you can return to before the day has fully asked anything of you. The first sip lingers differently than the rest—settling across your taste buds, moving slowly down your throat, waking something up gently rather than all at once. It’s not just the caffeine. It’s the pause.

I’ve always loved a simple cup of medium roast coffee, black. No extras, nothing to hide behind—just the taste as it is. But recently, that ritual has expanded a little. We got a fancy espresso machine as a wedding gift, and now our mornings are filled with cappuccinos and lattes instead of the unassuming French press. The soft hiss of steamed milk, the small satisfaction of learning something new. Still, no matter how it’s made, that first cup—held quietly in the morning—is often the best part of my day, not because anything extraordinary is happening, but because nothing is.

It’s one of the only moments that belongs entirely to me. Before the notifications, before the responsibilities, before the noise—just me, a cup in my hands, and a few minutes of stillness. It’s small, almost forgettable if you’re not paying attention. But it’s also where I feel the most present.

And the truth is, it doesn’t really matter what’s in the cup. Coffee, matcha, tea, golden milk—I have gone through phases with them all and find that the what is beside the point. What matters is the intention behind it. The quiet question you ask yourself, even if you don’t realize you’re asking it: What do I want right now? Do I want something warm or cold, something strong or gentle, something that wakes me up or something that slows me down? It’s such a small choice, but it’s also a moment of connection—with yourself, your preferences, your needs. A reminder that even in a day that might feel full or out of your control, there are still moments where you get to choose.

Leave a comment

And then there’s the other kind of coffee moment—the spontaneous one (Thanks for the reminder that spontaneity is important). The kind where you pop into a coffee shop in the middle of your day for no real reason. You weren’t planning on it. You don’t need it. But you do it anyway, and somehow it feels like a small luxury, a tiny escape, a reset.

There’s something oddly magical about it. Maybe it’s the change of environment—the hum of conversation, the clinking of cups, the smell of espresso in the air. Maybe it’s the act of stepping out of your routine, even briefly. Or maybe it’s just the fact that a coffee costs eight dollars now, and that alone makes it feel like a treat. Whatever it is, it interrupts the day in the best way. It reminds you that you’re allowed to pause, that not every moment has to be optimized or productive, that sometimes you can just sit, sip something warm, and exist without needing to be anywhere else.

And maybe that’s the real magic of it—not the coffee itself, but the space it creates. A space to be quiet, to be intentional, to check back in with yourself, even for a few minutes. To soften the edges of the day before they harden too much.

So whether it’s a carefully made cappuccino, a rushed cup on your way out the door, or an overpriced latte from a coffee shop you didn’t plan to stop at, may you let it be more than just a drink. May it be a moment—a slow one, the kind you don’t rush through, the kind you actually feel.

May we all have a slow cup of coffee in our day.

Share

If you enjoyed this article, please consider fueling my next one below. And another special shout out to for being the first person to gift me a cup.

Buy Me a Coffee

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

I thought about everything I’ve learned about friendship over the years. How at one point it felt like the most important thing in the world—something that defined entire chapters of my life—and how, over time, it quietly shifted into the background. Not gone, not less meaningful, just…less centered as other things (career, romantic relationships, family) took up space.

Subscribe now

And yet, those same people stayed. Even as life changed. Even as distance grew.

Most of my closest friends don’t live near me anymore (that’s what happens when you dedicate your life to medicine and moving all over the country for it’s training), but we still make a point to see each other at least twice a year. And when we do, it feels like no time has passed. Like we just pick up exactly where we left off, as if the space between us never really counted.

I’ve learned the value of good friendships as I’ve moved through the trials and tribulations of life and those relationships were tested—and I’ve also experienced the opposite. The ones that felt transactional. The ones that left me feeling empty in times of need, or questioning myself, or wondering why something that was supposed to feel supportive instead felt draining. The ones where I gave more than I had to give, or stayed longer than I should have, thinking that loyalty meant endurance. I compared my friendships to those of my partner who has been friends with the same people since grade school. I didn’t keep any friends from high school. Those friendships drifted apart and I wondered quietly if that was my ‘fault.’

If I’m honest, I’ve probably spent more time trying to understand friendships than I have romantic relationships. Because friendship is the thing that keeps returning. It’s the constant thread. The thing that has kept me tethered, even in the seasons where everything else felt uncertain, shifting, or undone. It is easier for me to blame a romantic relationship not working on the other party (we all do it) but for some reason it’s harder to do that with friendships. When a friendship ends, I almost always internalize that it’s my fault. Should I have tried harder to make it work, reached out more, forgiven sooner? Even if things naturally fizzled out, I wondered if I should keep trying to make contact even if I didn’t necessarily want to.

Friendships are one of the few relationships in our lives that don’t come with a defined structure—and maybe because of that, we don’t always give them the attention they deserve. When we’re younger, friendships are everything. They are our primary source of connection, identity, and belonging. But as we grow older, they often take a quieter role. Romantic relationships, careers, and family move to the center, and friendships shift to the background. Not because they matter less—but because life rearranges itself.

And yet, despite taking a backseat in terms of time and priority, friendships remain just as important—if not more. Research has consistently shown that strong, meaningful relationships are closely tied to improved overall wellness, greater happiness, and even cognitive health as we age. Longitudinal studies following people across decades have found that those with deeper, more connected relationships not only report higher life satisfaction, but also have lower rates of cognitive decline and dementia later in life. While this holds true across all stages of life, it becomes especially meaningful as we age—particularly for women, where close friendships often become some of the most emotionally sustaining and protective relationships we have. They are the ones that remain when roles shift, when children grow up, when careers slow down. They are the steady thread. But we don’t always treat them that way.

For a long time, I thought being a good friend meant being endlessly available. Always understanding. Always flexible. Always the one who could hold more. I thought loyalty meant staying—even when something felt off, even when the balance wasn’t quite right.

But over time, I’ve come to understand that friendships have actually been one of the greatest mirrors in my life. They’ve reflected back to me the parts of myself that needed growth—the ways I overextended, the moments I avoided hard conversations, the times I didn’t hold boundaries, or didn’t communicate clearly. They’ve taught me more about how to be a good human than almost anything else.

Because friendship isn’t passive.

It asks something of you. It asks you to show up, to listen, to repair, to be honest, to hold space, and to sometimes be uncomfortable in the name of something deeper. My very best friends are the ones who hold me accountable the most.

And the healthiest friendships aren’t built on endurance.

They’re built on reciprocity.

Not in a transactional way—this for that, keeping score—but in a way that feels balanced. Alive. Mutual. You show up for me, and I show up for you. Not perfectly, not equally in every moment, but consistently over time.

There’s a rhythm to it.

And when that rhythm is off for too long, you feel it. It shows up as quiet resentment, subtle withdrawal, or that hard-to-name feeling that something is just…off.

I think we resist that idea because we want friendship to feel unconditional. We don’t want to admit that there are limits. That there are needs. That there are lines. But boundaries don’t make a friendship weaker—they make it sustainable. A friendship without boundaries eventually becomes one-sided, or quietly draining in a way that’s hard to articulate but easy to feel.

Boundaries aren’t about pushing people away.

They’re about allowing the relationship to exist in a way that doesn’t cost you yourself.

And then there’s something else we don’t talk about enough.

Not everyone wants to see you grow.

It’s uncomfortable to admit, but it’s true. There are people who love you—but only within a certain version of you. The version that doesn’t change too much. The version that doesn’t outgrow them. The version that keeps things familiar.

Brené Brown talks about this idea of surrounding yourself with people who keep your candle lit—not the ones who blow it out. (please take the one minute to watch her video, it changed my perspective on friendships for the better).

Some friendships expand you. They celebrate your wins, encourage your growth, and create space for you to become more of who you are.

Others, sometimes subtly, sometimes unconsciously, dim you. They question your growth, minimize your progress, or shift the energy when you start stepping into something bigger.

Not because they’re bad people. But because your light makes them uncomfortable.

A good friendship is one where your flame is safe.

Where you can grow without feeling like you have to shrink to maintain the relationship. Where your wins are celebrated, not compared. Where your struggles are held, not dismissed. Where you don’t feel like you have to perform a certain version of yourself just to stay connected.

That doesn’t mean friendships are perfect.

We are all human. We will all have moments where we take more than we give, where we miss something, where we don’t show up the way we wish we had.

But the difference is awareness AND repair.

A good friendship isn’t one where nothing goes wrong.

It’s one where both people care enough to notice—and to come back.

I think the most honest way to look at friendship is this: it should be a place where you can be fully yourself and still be encouraged to grow. Where you are accepted, but not held back. Where there is space for both people to evolve without the relationship becoming something that needs to be outgrown.

Because the truth is, the people you surround yourself with will either expand your life or quietly limit it. They will either remind you of who you are becoming, or keep you tied to who you used to be.

And as I sat there sealing those envelopes, I realized something else.

The people who will be with me on my wedding day—the ones getting ready with me, the ones who have seen every version of me—are not just friends. They are people who have shaped me in ways I could never have done on my own.

They’ve challenged me, supported me, called me out, held me accountable, and loved me through every version of who I’ve been. They’ve helped me grow into someone I’m proud to be—not perfectly, but honestly.

And that feels like the truest definition of a good friendship.

Not just someone who stays—

but someone who helps you become who you are.

Fuel my next post?

What has friendship taught you?

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

I hate to tell you this, but social media isn’t the problem—it’s you.

If you’re of the mindset that social media is overtaking the world, contributing to brain rot, and lowering the intelligence and mental health of our youth and ourselves, I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong exactly. Because you’re not. But I am going to tell you that you’re missing the bigger truth.

Social media is a problem, but the bigger problem is how you’re engaging with it.

And yes, both of those things can be true at the same time.

Why does social media matter anyway? Lucky for you I have a post on this exact topic. Written back when I first started here on Substack, so while still true, also a great chance to see how much my writing has developed in this short time I’ve been here.

The Problem Isn’t the Content—It’s the Framing

Let’s take Instagram, for example, because this is the platform I personally utilize the most (not including Substack). I open Instagram and start scrolling through people I know or chose to follow—friends, influencers, brand accounts, or things the algorithm has decided are appropriate for me to see. Right now, I’m planning my wedding (coming up this fall), so naturally, I’m seeing endless amounts of bridal outfits, accessories, to-dos for the “perfect” wedding, and everything you supposedly cannot miss.

And this is where the first issue comes in: framing.

I could look at this and think, Wow, it’s targeting me with ads for all these things I have to buy for my wedding. How do people even spend this much? This is insane. Or I could spiral into thinking, Oh my god, I need my makeup to look that perfect—I probably need X, Y, and Z procedures or products to get there.

In that version, yes—social media is toxic.

But what’s actually happening in those moments is that I’m unclear about my own values, goals, and desires while consuming the content.

Reclaiming Control

So let’s reframe it.

I open Instagram and see an ad for a wedding dress. I know my budget. I know I’m still looking. So I pause and ask myself: Is this the dress of my dreams? No? Okay, keep scrolling.

Another dress appears. This one is beautiful. I could see myself in it. I click. It’s out of budget. Darn. Keep scrolling.

Once I find a dress, I don’t need to keep looking. And I know that if I scroll past enough dresses, the algorithm will eventually adjust and show me something else.

In this way, those same ads stop being pressure and start being tools. They become part of a process that I am in control of. I know my budget. I respect it. I don’t buy more than one dress. And I trust myself to stop engaging when something no longer serves me.

That’s the shift.

Subscribe now

The Skill Not Enough People Talk About: Presence

The same thing applies to all the “what not to miss” lists, the “10 mistakes I made on my wedding day,” and the endless advice that floods your screen. None of it is inherently harmful—but all of it becomes overwhelming if you don’t know how to filter it.

And that overwhelm is usually where people start blaming social media for “doom scrolling.” And I get it—the apps are designed to pull you in. That part is true. But what gets lost in that conversation is the role we play in it. We have more control than we give ourselves credit for. We choose when we open the app, how long we stay, and even what we keep engaging with once we’re there.

Without realizing it, we hand over that control the moment we stop paying attention.

And that’s really what this comes back to.

Filtering requires presence.

What all of this has made me realize is that this isn’t just about social media. You will be gravely disappointed in every aspect of your life if you aren’t doing the work to stay present for it. Your career, your friendships, your family—all of it suffers when you’re operating on autopilot.

Even Here, Too (Yes, Substack)

And perhaps the harshest truth is that Substack is included in this. I see so many notes saying people got off social media and now are only on Substack instead, as if it isn’t a social media outlet in its own right. But of course it is. And it has the ability to be just as toxic as the rest of them.

So many people here are looking for validation, for people to view their work, constantly reaching for new subscribers and followers. This is human nature. We all want to be seen, valued, and loved here on this earth. It is our natural instinct to desire connection with other humans.

Now, I don’t disagree—Substack does, in general, show up differently. But that doesn’t mean you are immune to the same patterns here. You still have to choose to be intentional. You have to interact with other people to develop connections. You have to block the accounts that only post about growing your subscriber count. You have to protect your reason for being here without getting lost in the growth goal.

You still have to filter and be present.

Leave a comment

Learning to Live in Paradox

And this is where we have to get comfortable holding two truths at once.

You can believe that social media is harming people—especially younger generations—while also recognizing that it is not going anywhere. Which means the answer cannot only be to reject it. At some point, we have to learn how to engage with it better.

We can teach people how to filter, how to set boundaries, how to recognize when something is no longer serving them. We can create healthier ways of interacting with these platforms instead of only labeling them as the problem.

Because you can remove social media from your life entirely, and for some people, that is exactly what they need. But if you are doing it to run away from something deeper—low self-esteem, constant comparison, feelings of inadequacy—then I hate to be the one to say it, but leaving social media isn’t going to fix that for you.

Those patterns don’t live in the app. They live in you.

Which means they will follow you into your career, your relationships, your friendships—until you decide to actually face them.

What It Looks Like in Practice

So stop blaming social media for your inability to know what you need for yourself.

You can choose to interact with these platforms in a way that serves you and aligns with your values. I personally use Instagram to find new recipes (last night we tried Tahdig for the first time), outfit inspiration, and to check in on the people I actually care about. I am constantly refining who I follow—removing accounts that feel activating or no longer relevant, and intentionally choosing ones that inspire me without making me feel bad about myself.

I follow body-positive creators, not endless images of people I don’t relate to wearing clothes I would never buy. I use the platform to grow, to explore new ideas, to discover cultures and cuisines I would have never encountered otherwise.

TikTok is similar, but with even more boundaries. I mostly scroll through accounts I already follow. I don’t just open the app and endlessly consume random content. When I do, I cap it—five minutes, max—and I stick to it.

What I post there myself is simple: DIY projects, travel, gardening. The small, meaningful parts of my life that don’t translate well into still images. And I do it for me.

I love going back and watching snapshots of my travels. I love seeing before-and-after clips of my home and remembering how much effort I’ve put into creating a space I love. My friends and family get to stay connected to my life in a way that feels easy and real.

Of course, there are other people who see those videos too. Sometimes they say nice things. Sometimes they offer helpful ideas. Sometimes they’re judgmental or rude.

But I have the power to remove those comments. Or block them. Or—more often than not—just let it roll off.

This Was Never About the App

Because the truth is, so much of social media comes down to your relationship with your own inner world. It forces you to confront how much you care about what other people think of you, whether you realize it or not.

And I see that in myself all the time. I’m not good at making TikTok videos. I’m not an influencer, and I’m not trying to be. If your goal is to go viral, I’m definitely not your person, and this is probably not your article. I don’t know the best times to post or even what people want to see. What I am doing, though, is trying to find my own voice. Trying to navigate the balance between participating in these spaces and still honoring myself within them.

And I’m not perfect at it. Sometimes I post something and later realize it came from a place of wanting to be trendier or more liked. I cringe and take it down. And that, in itself, is part of the process—learning to recognize when I’ve drifted away from myself and choosing to come back.

Because that’s really what this is about.

If your goal is to create something that actually aligns with you—without needing validation from strangers—then you’re exactly where you need to be.

Need help checking in with your own intentions? Check out my piece on letting go of what the world is telling you and learning to stay checked in with what you want instead.

The Real Work

So get honest about what you want from social media. Define your values before you open the app. Decide how much time you’re willing to spend. Be honest about your mental health. And be willing to adjust the moment it stops serving you.

Stay checked in. Constantly reassess.

And remember—this doesn’t just apply to social media. It applies to every part of your life.

A Better Way to Show Up

The reality is, social media might feel entirely different if more of us showed up honestly—if we shared what we genuinely love without trying to perfect it, without turning it into something to perform.

And yes, it’s hard to show up imperfectly when it feels like everyone else has figured out how to look effortless, polished, complete. But I’d still encourage you to do it anyway. Because the more of us who show up the way we actually want social media to feel, the more real it becomes. We may admire influencers—but what we’re really drawn to, what we trust, are real humans.

So have fun. Be creative. Post the imperfect, human thing. (You know I, of course, have a post on imperfection too)

Channel your inner Gandhi and “be the change you wish to see.”

Because this was never really about them. It’s about you—your relationship with your own voice, your own instincts, your own sense of what feels true.

When you reflect on your social media platforms, I encourage you to ask yourself:
Why are you here?

Takeaways

• It’s not the app—it’s your awareness inside of it.

• If you don’t define your values, the algorithm will do it for you.

• Presence isn’t optional—it’s everything.

• Two things can be true: it can harm you, and you can learn to use it well.

• You can log off, but you can’t escape yourself.

• What you consume shapes you—choose it carefully.

• Create to express, not to be validated.

• If it stops serving you, it’s no longer yours to keep.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

On My Bookshelf

For anyone that has not been following my weekly posts, I do a small book review on what I am currently reading or recently finished each week. Take it or leave it, but it’s here because I shamelessly am trying to recruit people to my book club so I’m not here alone. If you’ve read it, let me know. I love a good book chat. And if this suits your fancy, feel free to join my very small book club over on Fable.

Here’s what I read this week: People we Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry

Simple review without spoilers: Wow this was a darling read but I feel that way about every Emily Henry book. It’s quick, it’s light, it’s cute. It’s a romance novel but with exceptional character growth for how little tension the book actually holds. It’s going on my must read list. And I did also watch the Netflix movie after finishing it and it is truly so good. If you don’t like to read, the movie is definitely still worth checking out.

Subscribe now

I hated the way they chipped throughout the week and never stayed perfect for long. I hated adding something ‘toxic’ (this word is a bit triggering and problematic to me but I do think this is the actual word I thought at that time so I will leave it for accuracy sake) onto my body. I hated spending time doing it at all when, let’s be honest, I had much more important things I could, and should, be doing- namely studying. I hated the small frustration of trying to keep them looking the way they were “supposed” to look. And suddenly a much bigger question appeared: why was I even doing this in the first place? The question lingered longer than I expected, as if it had been waiting for a moment like this to finally surface.

The honest answer was simple. Because it felt like the thing I should be doing. Not because I loved it, not because it added anything meaningful to my life, but because it was quietly presented as part of the routine, something I had absorbed without ever really examining. But who was putting that there in my brain? Who said my nails were “supposed” to look this way. I could tell myself all day that it made me feel put together or that it made my nails look nice, but I knew deep down that wasn’t the truth. I liked my nails without the paint too, arguably more so. I never could find a color I actually liked seeing on my nails.

This moment was small, almost laughably trivial, but it ended up shifting the way I thought about my entire life. I realized how many things we do simply because they feel like the default setting of the world, not because we actually want them. It made me wonder how many of my preferences weren’t really preferences at all, but inherited patterns I had mistaken for my own.

This one moment triggered a domino effect to everything else in my life. I suddenly became curious about every little thing I was doing. Asking- Why do I do this? Do I actually want this, or did I just inherit it from everyone around me? At first, the answers weren’t always obvious, and that in itself was unsettling. Some were more obvious than others- why do I brush my teeth every single day? Okay, I guess I will keep doing that one. But slowly, the script began to change. I stopped caring so much about what everyone else was doing and started paying attention to what actually felt aligned for me with every single thing I did in my day, even when it didn’t make perfect sense to anyone else.

Living on your own terms doesn’t mean rejecting everything society offers. It simply means becoming intentional. You start deciding what stays and what goes instead of assuming the default is correct. It’s less about rebellion and more about awareness, about choosing your life rather than passively accepting it.

Share

And strangely enough, that shift led to a deeper kind of success than anything I had achieved before. Not the kind measured by titles or accomplishments, but the kind that comes from living honestly. From building a life that actually feels like your own, one decision at a time. (Side note- feel free to check out this piece I contributed to on finding your own success in conjunction with a bunch of other authors. It’s quite cool to see everyone’s perspective).

Because once you realize that many of the rules we follow are social constructs, something liberating happens. You begin to see how much freedom was there all along, hidden beneath habit and expectation.

The rules you have inherited are not absolutes AND you’re allowed to make your own.

Tell me- what societal norms are you breaking every day? How are you staying intentional? Have you ever had a moment similar to this?

Leave a comment

Best Books to Read

For anyone that has not been following my weekly posts, I do a small book review on what I am currently reading or recently finished each week. Take it or leave it, but it’s here because I shamelessly am trying to recruit people to my book club so I’m not here alone. If you’ve read it, let me know. I love a good book chat. And if this suits your fancy, feel free to join my very small book club over on Fable.

Here’s what I read this week:

Daisy Haites: The Great Undoing by Jessa Hastings (book 4 of a series)

Simple review without spoilers: Okay I have been reading this series for a year now because I literally will pick up one of the books of the series, read it, decide it is too much drama for me to handle, and then not pick up another book for months. And yet, I keep coming back to it. Months later and I picked up the fourth book and demolished it in one week. And this time…I think I am going straight into the final book of the series. So I guess I’m here for the drama more than I like to let myself think. And truly, the character are so frustrating but also…quite brilliant for that exact reason.

---

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

But science tells a very different story. Crying is not weakness. It is one of the body’s most effective built-in systems for regulating emotional stress. If you want to be a high functioning human or truly be present in your life, you have to learn to cry.

Subscribe now

Human tears are not all the same. Scientists distinguish between three types: basal tears, reflex tears, and emotional tears. Basal tears constantly lubricate the eyes. Reflex tears appear when something irritates them—like smoke or an onion. Emotional tears, however, are unique. They occur in response to psychological states such as grief, frustration, joy, or overwhelming relief. And unlike other tears, emotional tears contain measurable concentrations of stress hormones and neurochemicals.

Researchers have found that emotional tears contain elevated levels of adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH), a key stress hormone involved in the body’s stress response. Some scientists believe crying may help remove or regulate stress-related chemicals circulating in the body. In that sense, tears function almost like a pressure valve for the nervous system. When emotional tension builds beyond what the brain can comfortably process, crying becomes one of the ways the body discharges that load.

The sense of relief people often describe after a good cry is not imagined. Crying activates the parasympathetic nervous system—the part responsible for calming the body after stress. After the initial surge of emotion, heart rate slows, breathing deepens, and the nervous system gradually shifts back toward equilibrium.

It also appears to trigger the release of oxytocin and endorphins—chemicals associated with bonding, pain relief, and emotional comfort. These are the same molecules involved in social connection and soothing touch. That is why crying in the presence of someone safe can feel especially relieving. It is not just emotional expression; it is biology facilitating recovery.

Yet despite this built-in therapeutic mechanism, our culture has spent generations teaching people to suppress it.

Nowhere is that pressure stronger than for men.

From childhood, many boys learn that tears are incompatible with masculinity. Phrases like “man up,” “boys don’t cry,” and “be tough” quietly shape emotional behavior long before adulthood. Over time, these messages create a learned reflex: emotional distress must be contained, redirected, or hidden.

The result is not emotional strength—it is emotional congestion.

I know this instinct well. As a teenager, I tried to control my tears with almost scientific precision. They would come randomly and sporadically, but I was determined to manage the timing of them. If I felt them building, I would hold them back until I could be alone. I remember trying to schedule my own emotional release—telling myself, not here, not now, wait until you’re by yourself. I worked so hard to contain it. But I have never not been a tearful person. I carried a lot of trauma and stress growing up, and those emotions had to go somewhere. Crying was the only real exit as I didn’t have much autonomy at that point in my life.

Something interesting happened later in life. As I entered medicine—and with it the steady rhythm of stress that comes with caring for other people—I stopped trying so hard to suppress it. The tears come more readily now, sometimes at completely random times. A sad commercial comes on and suddenly I’m tearing up. A minute of genuine sobs, and then it’s gone. Completely gone. Because I no longer fight it, the crying itself is shorter. It arrives, does its job, and passes through like a brief storm.

Psychologists studying gender differences in emotional expression consistently find that men report crying far less often than women. But they do not report feeling less sadness, grief, or stress. The emotions still exist; they simply have fewer socially acceptable outlets.

This suppression comes at a cost. Studies link emotional inhibition in men with higher rates of depression, substance use, and even cardiovascular strain. When emotional signals are consistently blocked, they often reappear in other forms: irritability, anger, burnout, or physical symptoms.

Tears are not the problem. The inability to release them might be.

Ironically, the cultural ideal of stoicism often produces the very fragility it aims to avoid. Emotional suppression forces the brain to expend cognitive resources maintaining control over feelings that are trying to surface. Over time, that constant effort can increase psychological strain. (Don’t even get me started on the tangent of how this contributes to increased rate of intimate partner violence, but yes that is real).

Crying, by contrast, is efficient. It allows the brain to process intense emotion rather than store it indefinitely.

There is also a social dimension to tears that science increasingly recognizes. Crying acts as a signal to others that support is needed. Evolutionary psychologists argue that emotional tears may have developed partly to communicate vulnerability and elicit empathy from others. Humans are profoundly social creatures, and crying can strengthen interpersonal bonds by inviting comfort and connection.

In other words, tears are not only self-regulating—they are relational.

Of course, none of this means a person should manufacture sadness or wallow in despair. Crying is not valuable because suffering is desirable. It is valuable because it is a healthy response when suffering inevitably appears. Life guarantees moments of loss, frustration, exhaustion, and grief. Crying is one of the ways the body metabolizes those experiences.

Suppressing it is like refusing to exhale.

The strange thing is that most people intuitively know this. Almost everyone has experienced the quiet clarity that follows a deep cry—the way the mind feels lighter, the body less tense, the emotions less tangled. It is not a cure for life’s problems, but it often creates the space needed to face them.

So perhaps the cultural message needs to be flipped.

Instead of “don’t cry,” let’s say: cry when you need to. Cry freely. Cry without apology.

And if you are a man who has spent years hearing that tears undermine your strength, consider the possibility that the opposite may be true.

Real toughness is not the ability to feel nothing. It is the willingness to feel everything and still keep moving forward.

If that journey occasionally requires tears, then the most honest form of masculinity might be this:

Man up.

And cry.

Share

A note on the science for those who are nerds like me:

One of the earliest and most cited studies was conducted by biochemist Dr. William H. Frey II at the Tear Research Center in Minnesota.

Frey analyzed the chemical composition of different types of tears and found that emotional tears contained higher concentrations of stress-related hormones than reflex tears (like the kind produced when cutting onions). These included:

• Adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH)

• Cortisol

• Prolactin

These hormones are all involved in the body’s stress-response system.

ACTH in particular is part of the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, the central hormonal pathway that activates during stress and triggers the release of cortisol.

Because emotional tears contain these molecules, Frey proposed that crying may function as a biological mechanism for eliminating stress chemicals from the body.

Crying does not only release stress chemicals — it also activates calming ones.

Research shows emotional crying can stimulate the release of:

• Oxytocin – associated with bonding and emotional safety

• Endorphins – the body’s natural pain relievers

These chemicals help reduce both physical and emotional pain, which is one reason people often report feeling calmer after crying.

Scientifically speaking, crying is not just emotional expression.

It is a neurochemical regulation process that can:

• release stress hormones

• activate calming neurochemicals

• shift the nervous system back toward equilibrium

• facilitate emotional recovery

In other words, when people say “I needed a good cry,” that isn’t just metaphor.

It’s physiology.

Sources:

• Frey, W. H. (1985). Crying: The Mystery of Tears. (The foundational text on the biochemistry of tears).

• Gračanin, A., Vingerhoets, A. J., & Bylsma, L. M. (2014). Crying benefits: A review. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology. (Analysis of the self-soothing effects).

• Vingerhoets, A. J. (2013). Why Only Humans Weep: Unravelling the Mysteries of Tears. (A comprehensive look at the evolutionary reasons for crying).

  Leave a comment

  If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest. the kindness of boundaries, and insight into seasonal depression. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

I can say this with complete confidence because I am that person. And if you’re here reading this, you might be too.

There is a particular kind of loneliness that doesn’t come from being lost. It comes from being found. It belongs to the person everyone relies on. The one who figures it out. Fixes it. Carries it. Solves it. Anticipates it. The one people describe with admiration—so capable, so grounded, so strong.

For me, the word people tend to use is resilience.

I have been through more than my fair share of personal trauma in life. And on top of that, I chose a profession where I willingly put myself in proximity to even more of it every day as an ER doctor. The people closest to me in this world—my sister, my partner, my very best friends—tell me frequently that I am the most resilient person they know.

Which may be true. And honestly, it’s a huge compliment. I am proud of my resilience. I am proud of everything I have overcome in my thirty years here on this planet.

But I would be remiss to say that title doesn’t come with its own inherent burden.

High-agency people are often celebrated for the way they move through the world. They don’t wait to be rescued. They build the raft. They row. And eventually they start offering rides to everyone else.

And yet very few people ever ask them if they’re tired of rowing.

Just because you are capable, strong, resilient, or grounded does not mean you can—or should—carry the rest of the world. That space can become incredibly lonely. I know, because I have lived in it for a long time.

Subscribe now

You Deserve to be Proud

To understand how many of us end up here, we have to go back a bit.

For me, it started with life trauma. I was the child of alcoholics. My father was physically abusive toward my mother. My older brother struggled with drug addiction during some of my most formative years and later died from a drug overdose when I was in high school.

Those experiences shaped me. They shape the way I saw safety, stability, and responsibility in the world.

It was because of these experiences that I bounced from one traumatic romantic relationship to another for a while. My understanding of what love looked like was very skewed. When chaos is familiar, you tend to mistake it for normal.

But each time I found a way to climb out of it. For every traumatic event, there was the overcoming. I built my resilience brick by brick. It was not inherent, it was crafted intentionally.

Eventually I bought my first house on my own in my twenties. I moved across the country by myself to pursue a career in medicine in a place where I knew no one. I worked on myself intentionally to recognize the type of romantic relationship I actually deserved and subsequently met my life partner (we get married in September, yay!). I learned how to create boundaries with people in my life. I learned financial independence and how to literally build a fence on my own in my new backyard. I built a life piece by piece.

Like a phoenix rising from the damn ashes.

And I am incredibly proud of that. I want to say that clearly.

Because if you had asked me while I was living through those moments whether I felt brave or resilient, I would have told you absolutely not. When you are in survival mode it doesn’t feel heroic. It feels like life or death. You don’t choose to be brave. You just choose not to die.

But with distance, I can now see the bravery that existed inside those choices. I can see the resilience it took to move through those experiences and come out the other side stronger.

And I also recognize something else now: I am strong because I was forged through fire.

That is something to be proud of.

So What’s the Problem then…

When you have survived some of the worst things life can throw at you, a lot of the day-to-day problems that overwhelm others simply don’t shake you the same way. You know you can handle difficult things because you already have.

The problem is that other people notice this too.

Over time, roles start to form without anyone explicitly assigning them. You become the calm one in chaos. The person friends come to when they don’t know what to do. The emotional regulator in the room. The one who figures out logistics, solves problems, holds space for everyone else’s feelings.

Even when people care deeply about you, they begin to see you through the lens of your strength.

Not because they are selfish. But because competence is often mistaken for invulnerability.

People trust strength. They lean toward it instinctively. And the paradox is that the more you prove you can carry, the more people will hand you to carry.

We also play a role in this dynamic ourselves. When you are the person who consistently solves problems, people naturally keep coming back when the next problem appears. And slowly, without anyone meaning for it to happen, the relationship dynamic shifts.

You become the container. Everyone else becomes the ones being held.

But containers rarely get held themselves.

Competence Can Be Socially Isolating

There’s also a cultural myth floating around that if you “have your life together,” you must not be struggling. In reality, the struggle just changes shape.

Instead of visible chaos, the weight becomes quieter. It looks like decision fatigue from always being the one who decides. Emotional exhaustion from always being steady for everyone else. The pressure of never dropping the ball because too many people depend on you.

Sometimes it even shows up as a quiet fear: if I fall apart, where exactly would I land?

When you have built a life around being the reliable one, it becomes incredibly difficult to risk being unreliable—even for a moment. So you stop asking for help.

Not necessarily because you don’t need it. But because you no longer know how to occupy that role.

And if we are being completely honest, part of us might also believe that no one else could handle it anyway.

That belief doesn’t usually come from arrogance. It comes from experience. Many high-agency people learned very early in life that if they didn’t handle something, no one else was going to.

Agency was adaptation before it was identity.

What once started as survival eventually becomes personality.

But survival patterns don’t always relax just because life becomes safer.

What You Actually Need (But Rarely Receive)

The irony is that what high-agency people actually need is usually very simple. You need spaces where you are not the most capable person in the room. Relationships where responsibility flows both directions instead of only one. Permission to not know the answer for once.

You need someone to ask you questions instead of always expecting you to provide the answers.

You need support before you collapse, not after.

Because when high-agency people do burn out, it tends to happen quietly. We don’t catastrophize. We don’t ask loudly for help. We simply carry too much for too long.

Eventually the weight becomes impossible to ignore.

And if you have ever reached that point, you know how uncomfortable it is to finally admit you can’t hold it anymore. Not just because you are exhausted, but because people have grown used to you holding it. Sometimes when you put the weight down, you’re met with confusion or disappointment.

But the truth is that weight was never supposed to belong to you alone.

If This is You, I want you to hear this clearly:

Competence is not a contract to carry everything. Strength is not a lifetime assignment. Agency does not have to mean isolation.

You are allowed to distribute weight.

You do not have to earn rest. You do not have to justify needing help. And you certainly do not have to wait until you break to prove that you are human.

You can ask for support long before that point.

Share

What’s the Solution

I wish I could tell you I have mastered this myself, but I haven’t. This is something I still struggle with daily.

(Hello, here is me actually practicing not having all the answers. Posting this article now instead of waiting for the solution to appear first)

What I have been experimenting with lately is simple honesty. Letting people see the weight of what I carry instead of quietly absorbing it. Asking for help with pieces of it. Recognizing what I am even carrying in the first place through practiced presence. Teaching the resilience strategies that make carrying difficult things possible for me in the first place. Teaching a man to fish, so to speak. (Oh yeah, add religious trauma to my previous list, some of the stories have clearly stuck).

The loneliest person in the room is rarely the one who is lost.

It’s the one everyone else orients themselves around.

The one who built the structure.
The one who keeps it standing.

The one who, just once, would like to know what it feels like to be carried too.

And maybe the real lesson for people like us isn’t learning how to carry more.

Maybe it’s learning how to let someone else take a piece of the weight.

If you’re someone people always rely on, I’m curious —
what are you doing to combat this?

Leave a comment

Best Books to Read

Back again with my weekly book review. Take it or leave it, but it’s here because I shamelessly and desperately try to recruit people to my book club so I’m not here alone. If you’ve read it, let me know. I love a good book chat.

Here’s what I read this week:

Yellowface by R.F. Kuang

Simple review without spoilers: I love a Reese Witherspoon book club pick because they push me out of my comfort zone from what I typically read. This one did not disappoint. It’s one of those books where you are emotionally connected to the main character and want them to have success while also cringing at some of their decisions that are let’s just say, not so morally sound. Sometimes this can become a bit much, but the author did a brilliant job of keeping me drawn in despite the cognitive dissonace I was experiencing. It challenged the way I think and highlight the importance of seeing other people’s perspectives.

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, the kindness of boundaries. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Subscribe now

You’re going about life as usual—nothing has changed exactly—but you start to notice it’s harder to get out of bed in the morning. The workouts that once felt routine now take real effort to finish. Tasks you had energy for just weeks ago suddenly feel impossible to complete, and by the end of the day you’re more drained than you think you should be. It’s subtle at first, easy to brush off, but over time you realize something feels… different. It’s not necessarily abnormal to spend more time indoors, socially isolate, or sleep for longer periods of time during our winter hibernation. But there is a fine line between what is considered normal winter behavior and seasonal depression. If you notice the unbearable heaviness and isolation of this time of year, well, every year…you probably fall into the category of seasonal depression along with me.

Subscribe now

I’ll be honest, I have struggled with some forms of depression intermittently throughout my life, often directly related to traumatic situations I was in. I’m a fairly forward thinking person so I actually tend to fall more on the side of anxious than depressed but it has still happened from time to time. I had never experienced seasonal depression though until I moved up north. I grew up in Texas where winter meant a light jacket, more gray but still bright skies, and life moving along without much disruption. When I moved to Chicago for my residency training however, winter suddenly felt very different. The days became shorter, darker, quieter. Weeks would pass where I’d leave for work in the dark and come home in the dark, wondering why my energy, motivation, and mood had shifted so much. The first year hit the hardest, I think because I wasn’t expecting it. I suffered massively that first year, finding it nearly impossible to bring my feet out of bed each morning. I lost so much weight I almost withered away. But each year, as I’ve lived here, it has changed. I’ve come to expect that sadness now as the season approaches but it’s still unavoidable even knowing it’s coming. And it’s surprisingly difficult to navigate each time. There is an impending sense of dread in my gut as this time of year even approaches. I try desperately to ensure all my good habits are well integrated and hard wired in place but the efforts feel futile. When your mind takes over it is hard to bring it back. The mind is so very powerful.

Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), a form of depression tied to seasonal changes, affects an estimated 1–5% of U.S. adults each year. That’s actually a very large percentage of humans. And even more people experience milder seasonal mood changes that don’t always get recognized as SAD or treated at all. In colder, northern climates, rates climb even higher than this. Yet despite how common it is, we don’t do a great job of addressing it. Part of that being that the seasonality part of it seems like it has a definitive conclusion. Why fix something that will fix itself with time, right? Not to mention most antidepressant drugs take nearly 6-8 weeks to really have good effect. By that time the drug even kicks in, the depression has already ended. But for people who experience seasonal depression, you know the sense of dread I’m talking about, and winter takes up a very big portion of the year. I certainly don’t want to spend a quarter of my life in this state.

In the emergency department, where I work as an ER doctor, I see the ripple effects of this every single day. Patients don’t always come in saying, “I’m depressed” (okay sometimes they do). More likely though, they come in exhausted, overwhelmed, and unable to cope. Sometimes they arrive in full mental health crisis. National data validates the thousands of emergency visits related to mental health conditions that we deal with. This underscores how often the ER has become the default safety net for struggles that really need long-term, consistent care. The ER is designed for heart attacks, trauma, and acute illness—not to solve chronic loneliness, burnout, or depression. Yet that’s where many people end up, because we don’t have enough systems in place to care for mental health before it reaches that point. This is in part, a tangent of a much, much larger issue. But my point is, that we see mental health crisis daily and it only gets worse in the winter. I do not have the time, resources, or space to properly help you with your mental health crisis as your ER doctor. I’m sorry but that’s the honest truth. I will continue to see you and do my best to get you where you need to go, but I will also be the first person to tell you that what I have to offer you WILL NOT be enough.

So how do we respond—both as individuals and as a culture—when the seasons start to affect how we feel?

We start by paying attention. We have to learn to help each other and ourselves more. We have to learn how to be more connected to ourselves and to those around us.

Share

I’m going to dive deeper into paying attention internally now, but meaningful connection with the other humans around us is also imperative to improving our mental health. And also drastically improves longevity too. I wrote an article about this several weeks ago if you want to read more about the power of connection.

Seasonal depression has a way of disconnecting us from ourselves. We sleep more but feel less rested. We move less. We isolate without realizing it. I mean, who wants to go out in negative degree weather? I definitely don’t. The solution isn’t to “push through” or pretend we’re fine. It’s to stay checked in with ourselves—daily, intentionally, and honestly. The more we notice what’s happening internally, the sooner we can respond to what we actually need.

That’s why I encourage practices (for my patients AND myself) that create small moments of awareness throughout the day. Let me be the first to tell you that these seem obvious but that does not mean they are easy. I have these so hardwired into my system that it is hard for me to start a morning without doing them now, but that still doesn’t mean I WANT to do it. These are hard practices and I struggle with them myself every dang day. Do it anyway.

Daily Journaling (Yes, Daily.)
Journaling isn’t about writing something profound. It’s about creating a conversation with yourself so you don’t lose track of how you’re doing. And doing it daily is necessary to show up for ourselves. Again, the point isn’t a massive well-written prose that can be published. It’s a check in that happens so regularly that our nervous systems can expect it and show up accordingly.

Try asking:

• What am I feeling today—physically and emotionally?

• What has felt harder than usual lately?

• What is giving me even a small sense of energy or relief?

• What do I need more of right now?

• What am I neglecting that usually helps me feel like myself?

Consistency matters more than length. Five honest minutes is enough for me to purge the system but also stay committed to showing up. Forget what the internet says about how long you should be doing this for, find the time that works for you. Just do it every day.

Meditation to Reset Your Nervous System
Even a short daily meditation helps regulate mood, improve focus, and counter the constant stimulation that keeps our stress response turned on. Think of it less as “clearing your mind” and more as learning to sit with yourself again. Again, it’s more about consistency than time here. If you can handle one minute, great. For me, I make this the very first thing I do every morning. No putting it off until the day has exhausted me and then forgetting about it altogether. Just one minute right when I wake up followed by a five minute journaling session all while I drink my glass of water. Six minutes total. That’s it. And then I go about my day knowing I had a glass of water and checked in with myself. That alone is enough to make me feel accomplished for the day.

Get Outside—Even When It’s Cold
Light exposure plays a powerful role in regulating our internal clock and mood. A short walk during daylight, even on cloudy days, can make a measurable difference. The goal isn’t athletic performance—it’s simply reminding your brain that the world is still there. It’s cold as hell. I know. I hear you. I fight this exact same fight every single day. I know you don’t want to go out there. I hate going out there too. I promise you it’s worth it though. Put on your best winter coat, take your dog with you and tell yourself it’s for them instead, but just get out there. A five minute walk around the block IS ENOUGH.

Move Your Body (Gently Counts.)
Exercise improves serotonin and dopamine levels—the very chemicals that tend to dip during darker months. This doesn’t have to mean an intense workout. Walking, stretching, yoga, or light strength training are enough to shift momentum. You did your five minute outdoor walk already and that’s great. Truly. If you don’t want to venture out in the world again after that, that’s okay. But find a way to do something active in your home. I have a walking pad that I can answer emails on while getting steps in. I can also watch my shows while on the walking pad. Someone tell me why this feels like a cheat code every time I do it. Doing something relaxing, while also getting something beneficial done, without the guilt of feeling like you are cheating your relaxing time. That’s the best life hack I could ever offer you. You’re welcome.

I also have some light weights and resistance bands so I can do some home workouts on days when I don’t want to go to yoga class or the gym. Don’t make excuses, find solutions that work for you. Try out the walking pad/television session. You won’t regret it.

The goal here isn’t to “fix” seasonal depression overnight. Gosh, wouldn’t that be great though? I wish.

The goal is to stay connected to yourself so you don’t disappear into the season.

Winter will come every year whether you want it to or not. Stress will come. Life will remain imperfect. But when we build habits that keep us aware of what we’re feeling and what we need, we create resilience—not by forcing ourselves to be better, but by learning how to care for ourselves more honestly.

And further, as the seasons change and our energy, mood, and emotions shift with them, we’re reminded that this variation is not something to resist but something to understand. The harder days and lighter ones are all part of the same rhythm—a natural ebb and flow of life, where joy and sorrow, ease and struggle, each serve a purpose in shaping us, strengthening our resilience, and offering quiet opportunities for growth. These seasons of life are truly what makes it so beautiful. We wouldn’t appreciate the beauty in the happy times if we didn’t know what it was to feel deep sadness. Respect each season of your life, they really are all beautiful in their own way.

I’m creating a new section that I’m calling ‘Best Books to Read’ because I read a lot and I have no one to talk to about it. Take it or leave it, but it will be here anyway. I only finish the best books, I tend to put books down that I’m not into. So just know every book you see here each week, is a good one. If you’ve already read it, let me know. I love a good book chat.

Here’s what I read this week:

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

Simple review without spoilers: Unconventional. This is not the type of book I expected when I picked it up. Unlike most main characters who are beautiful, well-loved and idealistic, Eleanor went against the grain and was a social outcast. She says exactly what she means and means what she says no matter how bizarre it was. She ignores all social cues. And I j’adore her for it. I think we all need a little bit more Eleanor Oliphant energy in our lives.

Enjoy this article even a little bit? Please spark a meaningful discussion in the comments. Creating an engaged community only works if you contribute. Click here you conversation starter, you.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, the kindness of boundaries. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Post statistics: Kurlansik, S. L., & Ibay, A. D. (2012). Seasonal affective disorder. American family physician, 86(11), 1037–1041.

If you’ve ever felt like you have to get everything exactly right—to work harder, do more, and never let anything slip—you’re not alone. Many of us live with the quiet belief that being “good enough” simply isn’t enough. I know that pressure well. I’m a board-certified ER doctor, a journey that took me through medical school—studying 15 hours daily—and rigorous residency training where I worked 80 to 100 hours a week. Today, as an attending physician I interact with real humans and quite literally save lives daily. That is my job. It is cool, I love it, and I am very lucky to do what I do. It is also the epitome of high-pressure stakes. Medicine demands a high level of perfection, and being anything less than perfect for my patients feels like a disservice to them. I don’t say this to claim my perfectionism holds more weight than yours, but to show that if I can see the value in being enough as I am, even in my profession where human lives are on the line, I promise you can too. Letting go of perfectionism is not impossible, even if it often seems that way.

Subscribe now

Perfectionism is a global struggle. People all over the world aim to show up perfectly day in and day out. There is a real beauty to perfectionism if you look at it long enough, people striving to be the very best versions of themselves. Whether rewriting an article to ensure it has value and impact, or planning the perfect dinner party with elaborate decor and flawless invitations to create something exceptional, there’s beauty in wanting to create something special for those we love.

But sometimes, most times, this beauty masks something deeper. Perfectionism, as often villainized, leaves little room for flaws. It can create a toxic structure that is unattainable, unsustainable, blocks true connection and, at its core, masks underlying issues. It was easy for me in medical school to study for endless hours because it meant I could say I was doing something meaningful with my life, but underneath that, I was hiding emotions from years of trauma. I wasn’t resolving issues that should have long been dealt with. I used perfectionism to keep myself busy enough to ignore the underlying feelings that were festering there. I was praised for my career out in the world, but inside I was reeling. I entered toxic relationship after toxic relationship until I finally dealt with the trauma, realized I was worth more than I was currently giving myself credit for, and stopped the cycle. My perfectionism was never going to fix my self worth problem. It was hiding me from the world and any people that might have helped me. It was hiding me from myself, keeping me busy and unchecked.

What is your perfectionism hiding? Are you afraid that if you post that article too soon people will see you as a fraud? Do you tell yourself your friends will like you less if your dinner party isn’t perfect? Notice first where perfectionism shows up in your life and then ask yourself what lives beneath that needs to be unearthed.

Share

In medicine, embracing imperfection meant acknowledging when I lacked knowledge about a specific topic, suggesting my patient consult a specialist instead. Owning my limitations allowed for better patient care and freed up time to truly connect with patients, rather than trying to be all things to everyone. Maybe that patient has to a see a different doctor, but there is value in a second opinion and even more value in receiving information from a specialist who deals with that specific issue with more frequency than me. Ultimately the benefit far outweighs any inconvenience. And for me, recognizing what I don’t know doesn’t make me less of a doctor it reminds me that there is room to grow and always ways I can be better for my patients. The goal has changed from perfection to growth and honesty.

Reality check: You will never be perfect, no matter how hard you try. The bar keeps moving because perfection is not a fixed point—it’s ever-changing, like a dog trying to reach a treat on a treadmill.

So I encourage you to just start showing up imperfectly for a change. If a friend wants to visit you at home last minute, don’t scramble to clean. Instead, say, “My house isn’t perfect, but I’d love to see you anyway.” Welcome them in your sweats, and focus your energy on your connection instead of your presentation. I think you’ll see that it matters so much more in the end.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, the kindness of boundaries. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

It probably wasn’t until I was in medical school that I realized the true need for efficiency. Don’t get me wrong, I was busy before medical school. I worked three jobs to pay my way through my undergraduate degree. I picked a major that didn’t come close to covering the honors courses and pre-medical courses required to graduate and get into medical school. This required me to take 20-hour course loads most semesters. I slept around 4-5 hours most nights. I was busy, but I was not yet efficient. I was in the ‘pour myself a bowl of Wheaties on my way out the door in the morning and call it good’ phase of life. My health was suffering, my mental health was declining, and I was on the fast track to an early grave. I didn’t even realize at this time how much opportunity I was missing out on to be present in my life and focus on what was meaningful. It was in full on survival mode every day.

Subscribe now

In medical school I learned the value of being efficient. Being successful in medical school where everything is cut-throat really came down to efficiency. I couldn’t have made it through functioning the way I had in college. I learned that if I could hit three different errands on my route home from my classes I wouldn’t lose time on multiple commutes and could get all the necessary tasks done for the week in one go. It was about how can you make the absolute most of your time, the same time everyone else has, so that you could have an edge. This wasn’t me trying to be the top of my class, quite literally I was just trying to get through it. Medical school was hard and you needed all the time you could get.

Heard the phrase ‘time is money?’ This became my new survival. Efficiency became a super power that allowed me a couple more hours of sleep, time to actually cook a meal, or sometimes just more time to study. When you are efficient you allow yourself more time for things that matter more. At that point in my life, studying and sleep. But now, efficiency means I get more time for doing what I love with the people I love. I’m not spending week day nights making grocery store runs or returning packages. I’m not digging around for my keys while I run out the door. Instead I’m sitting down to meals with my significant other and working on my latte art.

This was the time in my life when the value of organization became about function not aesthetic. When weekly planning became about consolidating tasks into one route that I could get done in an hour or two rather than randomly spaced out throughout the week. Yes, it requires some leg work upfront. But I promise you, even if you consider yourself the most unorganized person in the world, creating functionality in your home and life is not only doable but will quite literally change your life.

Imagine feeling less stressed, having clearer thoughts, and gaining a sense of control even when everything around you feels uncertain. By prioritizing what truly matters—like spending time with loved ones, nurturing our hobbies, or simply finding moments to relax—we can transform our daily experiences. This article gives you relatable strategies for getting organized and simple changes that create a more peaceful and fulfilling life.

These were hard earned life skills that have made me the most successful person in any room (and dare I say most fulfilled, too).

Read more

The names in this article have been changed for patient privacy but recreated to maintain the humanity in their story.

I stood across a hospital bed from an 80-year-old woman (let’s call her Ruth) whose husband (Richard) was lying in the bed between us. The patient, Richard, had been brought in 20 minutes before in full cardiac arrest (a machine wrapped around the man’s torso and doing compressions on his chest to artificially beat his heart). The machine had since been removed, his heart beating again on its own. I had placed a breathing tube down his throat and started life saving medications that were willing his heart to keep pumping. In the time it took me to do these things, Ruth had been driving into the hospital, living will and POA (power of attorney) in hand. She now stood across the bed from me, both of us looking down at the man lying before us. Technically alive, but in an artificial way. Medications encouraging his heart to pump and a breathing machine forcing breaths into and out of his lungs. She looked up at me and extended the documents in her hand across the bed.

Subscribe now

Both documents had been filled out and signed by the patient himself at a much earlier date. Several years before, the patient had been diagnosed with throat cancer and had undergone numerous rounds of radiation and then subsequent surgeries when the radiation caused life threatening swelling around his airway. It was during that time that Richard and his wife sat down and created a living will to determine what his wishes were in the event of a life threatening emergency and assign her as a POA to help in making decisions if he was unable to do so for himself.

The morning of his presentation to my ER though, Richard had been found unresponsive by his wife in the bedroom shortly after they had both woken and climbed out of bed. Ruth, frazzled and overwhelmed, hadn’t been able to locate the living will upon arrival of the paramedics, which meant they were required to initiate CPR. After they left in the ambulance with Richard, Ruth took a moment to locate the living will and POA and then make her way to the hospital.

She stood there arm extended across the bed with these documents. I took them, reviewing each to ensure I understood Richard’s wishes. As I set the documents on the counter behind me, I turned back around to see Ruth bending towards Richard’s face. I stayed quiet for a moment to offer some space and heard her say “I love you. Thank you for giving me the best 58 years of my life.” She leaned forward just a bit more and kissed his temple. Then ran the back of her hand down the side of his face. I think perhaps there were tears sitting behind her eyes at this moment but she looked up, making eye contact with me and stated very clearly what I had already just read in the documents she had handed me. She wanted to withdraw life support and allow her husband to pass in peace. We honored their wishes, withdrawing the breathing tubes and discontinuing the medications dripping into his veins. She stood by his side, holding his hand while we watched his heart slow to a stop on the monitor. When it was done she kissed him once more then nodded her head in finality.

There is no preparing for death, trauma, or grief. I mean, that you can do all the preparation in the world, but when you lose someone you love, you will still be filled with all the emotions of grief. There is no pre-feeling them. No amount of preparation that will lessen those feelings. Grief is love. It deserves every ounce of feeling you have to give it. How truly beautiful to love someone so deeply that their loss reverberates in your bones. There is no preparing for that. But there is preparation that can be done to ensure those last moments with someone are entirely yours. By having a living will and POA established, Ruth was able to immerse herself completely the moment his heart stopped beating. Those terrifying healthcare decisions had already been dealt with and decided. She had no deciding left to do. All she had to do was be present.

The primary goal in healthcare is to prolonged the length of life, not always the quality. We, of course, always try to preserve both but, when it comes down to it, we choose length. Only you get to choose what quality of life you are willing to live in the end. If life loses its purpose when you are hooked up on a breathing tube unable to interact with loved ones, than you do not want to prolonge length, you want to preserve quality. This is entirely a personal decision that you have every right to make. I can tell you, as a healthcare provider, I will make this decision for you, but I do not want to have to. And I will explain it on repeat a hundred times to your family member in a moment of crisis to help them make the decision if you are unable to, but you do not want this either. You and your family member deserve space in these moments. You deserve presence and peace. No, you cannot prepare for grief. But you can gift yourself presence when the hard moments inevitably arrive.

This is the importance of having both a living will and Power of Attorney. Had these documents not been present in this encounter with Ruth and Richard, the patient would have remained on the ventilator and intermittently received CPR each time his heart inevitably failed again until sufficient evidence showed that the patient was brain dead and could be removed from the ventilator. Without the living will and POA in place, Ruth might have spent the next 72 hours by Richard’s side as he received numerous rounds of CPR and listened to the incessant sounds of the ventilator. As his wife, Ruth could have, at any point, discontinued this treatment, but she may not have known how to honor Richard’s wishes in these last moments had they not had these conversations before. That moment where Ruth told her husband she loved him for the last time? It was peaceful and assured. She knew it was his time and she was at peace with the decisions they had collectively made several years before. It could have been filled with anxiety and questioning. Instead it was filled with knowing and gratitude for a life well lived. To this day, the grief and peace I saw in Ruth’s eyes that day have stayed with me and become the reminder of everything I could hope for in my, and my loved ones, final moments on this earth.

Share

Understanding Living Wills and Power of Attorney

A living will is a legal document that outlines a person’s wishes regarding medical treatment in circumstances where they may no longer be able to express informed consent. It ensures your preferences are respected, whether you want all possible measures taken or specific interventions withheld.

A Power of Attorney (POA) for healthcare designates someone to make medical decisions on your behalf if you are unable.

Several Options to Create Them:

1. Consult a Lawyer: Many legal professionals can guide you through creating these documents to ensure they meet state laws.

2. Use Online Resources: Websites like LegalZoom or Nolo offer templates and guidance.

3. Discuss with your primary care provider: They can offer insights into the types of decisions that might need to be addressed. It is important to understand exactly what you are listing as your wishes when you complete one of these forms.

4. Look Online: You can often find your state specific forms online and complete the form at home yourself but if you choose this option ensure you are following all of your state specific requirements. You may need witnesses that cannot be family or heirs, or it may need to be notarized

Where to Keep Them:

• Accessible Locations: Store copies at home, accessible to trusted family members. A fridge or somewhere easily visible is often a great place.

• With Your Healthcare Provider: Provide a copy to any regular doctors or your healthcare facility.

• In Your Emergency Bag: I especially recommend this for anyone with a known potentially life threatening health issue. Having a bag packed with anything you might require in the hospital for a couple of nights can reduce a lot of stress. Put a copy of your POA and living will in there.

• Keep a virtual copy: Keep this on your phone and share a virtual copy with anyone who might show up to the hospital with you.

Having these documents can provide clarity during challenging times, reduce anxiety for you and your loved ones, and allow you to be present for what really matters.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. Lately, I’ve been exploring why your gut instinct matters, increasing inner peace, the beauty in doing hard things. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Hi, I’m Landon.

I’m really glad you’re here.

I’m a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. I have an undergraduate degree in health and exercise science, where I spent four years deep diving into food and movement of all kinds. I’m also a hot yoga instructor, business owner, avid reader, Libra, and enneagram 4. I care a lot about wellness and longevity. It’s basically my whole personality at this point.

I believe strongly in both western medicine and age old wisdom that has been passed down through time. I care more about the truth of what actually works for our personal and collective health rather than selling propaganda. This is not about rejecting today’s science in favor of old traditions, nor about abandoning generational wisdom in favor of data points. It is about recognizing that the most profound insights emerge when we stop treating them as adversaries and recognize them as allies with the same end goal. It is not black or white, this or that. Both can and should exist. Both have something to offer us.

But beyond the science and the systems, most of what I find myself returning to—and writing about—is something quieter. Presence. Meaning. The inner world we often overlook while we’re busy trying to optimize the outer one. My work in the ER constantly reminds me how fragile and unpredictable life can be, and how easy it is to move through it without ever really being in it. This space is where I slow that down. Where I reflect on what it means to be here, to feel deeply, to build a life that is not just healthy—but meaningful.

Subscribe now

What you’ll get here:

-More than anything else this space is a gentle reminder to stay present and curious— to remind you what is important in life. I hope to help you find intention, purpose, and meaning through the reflections of my work and own life experiences. There is also a series contributed to by guest authors specifically on this called ‘The Art of Staying.’

-Real science. Sky is the limit, anything and everything up for question. From the medications you pick up at the pharmacy to the Ayurvedic practices that have been passed down for generations. All fields of thought are fair game. What matters in this space is does it actually work. The focus being on living your healthiest life, one filled with meaning, connection, and intention.

-Lessons from my life as an ER doctor- specifically focused on how to live a meaningful and well-loved life.

-Recommendations of things I am using, buying, loving or that have made my life better in some way.

-Advice on how to be more efficient and function better in your day to day from a high functioning, high agency, successful physician and business owner.

-Occasionally- more personal reflections on the inner workings of medicine, specifically posted to my ‘Introspective Doctor’ page. Designed with my medicine cohort in mind but avid ‘The Pitt’ lovers may appreciate it as well.

What you’ll never get:

-Daily emails. You will get one welcome email and one post weekly and that’s it. Listen, I know on a personal level that there is way too much clutter flooding my inbox every day and I never want to contribute to the clutter in yours. So instead, subscribing means my work will show up on your Substack app with more frequency and the post I write each week will come directly to your inbox. No spam, I promise. Just the content you actually want. And if you don’t want the weekly email either? No hard feelings. I love boundaries. Do what works for you and turn off email notifications. You’ll still be able to see my posts through my page and you can read when it serves you!

-Paid gimmicks. Subscribing to all of my written work is free. The paid subscription option is open and offers some of my most important tools to success. These are not gimmicks, these are real life tools that I use to be successful and to offload the busy work so that I can focus on what really matters.

If this resonates…

I believe that we all deserve to live the life we want for ourselves. My hope is that something you read on this page helps you get there. I believe firmly in the beauty of real, honest, and vulnerable humans and I’m here to build community for those individuals. To create a space where we can do hard things but land softly. Where we can be imperfect humans doing our best instead of performing constantly. The goal being finding success while also learning to slow down and connect with ourselves and each other more. There is way too much noise in the world today. We all have a bit too much brain fog. Let’s get a Clear View of what really matters here.

…you’re exactly where you're supposed to be.

Let’s do this, together.

xx, Landon

P.S. If you want to hear it from someone else, here is a poem written about me and my work. An extra perspective and a chance to see the beautiful poetry of one of my favorite fellow Substackers.

Leave a comment

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. If you are looking for where to start, start here. If you want to read more, here’s what I’ve been working on recently: organization tools that were instrumental in my own success, what truly matters at the end of life, why high functioning humans are the loneliest, why crying is so important, and insight into seasonal depression. If perhaps you are here looking for a bit of ER drama, I’ve got you here and here. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Share

Let me be clear. This is not a fix all. You cannot take any conglomeration of supplements and expect to feel well. It takes a lot more than a handful of over the counter supplements to optimize your health but the following can definitely help.

Subscribe now

EPA/DHA (aka Omega-3)

If you are a fish lover and eat it at least 3 times a week, you probably don’t need this one. I love fish, but I don’t eat it quite that much. So I supplement.

The main reason I love this one and use it in my own diet is because it decreases the risk of dementia. It slows brain aging, improves memory and reaction time. You only need a low dose for this to be effective (~1.73g daily).

This powerful supplement also improves mental health and the gut microbiome (which are connected, so this makes sense). It also has been shown to reduce cardiovascular events by 25% in high risk patients that are already on statins (of note- they were using pure EPA at 4g daily dosing). If you want to specifically target mental and cardiovascular health, you are likely going to want higher doses and more EPA heavy versions.

Here is the specific one I use. I take two a day (although you can take 1-4 daily based on the desired effect you are looking for). I love this company because it focuses on using the highest quality, environmentally-friendly, sustainable, and vegan ingredients.

Multivitamin

Not all multivitamins are created equal. If you are just picking a random one off the shelf and thinking it will fill in all the gaps in your nutrition, you are doing yourself a huge disservice and possibly causing harm. I cannot tell you how many times patients bring me their supplement bottles where they have a multivitamin in addition to Vitamin B plus Vitamin D plus Zinc plus Calcium plus Iron… They hear a recommendation for a specific vitamin and just add it on instead of checking the multivitamin they are already taking! Ending up taking way more than the recommended daily values of these. Take too much calcium? You put yourself at risk for kidney stones. Too much selenium or zinc? These have legitimate toxic dose ranges.

What do you want actually want in your multivitamin?

840-1500mg DHA/EPA daily

10-250mcg B12 daily or 2500mcg weekly (cyanocobalamin is the most studied form)

500-2000 IU (12.5-50mcg)/day for the average person of Vitamin D3 from Lichen or Vitamin D2

No more than 500mg Calcium daily

150-300 mcg Iodine

8-25mg/day for females, 5-12mg/day for males Iron

30-200mcg Selenium

5-25mg Zinc

Share

If you don’t want to think about it- This is the one I use (two pills per day in conjunction with the DHA/EPA additional supplement above). This one does sell out frequently because is so high quality and sought after. So if they have it, I definitely recommend grabbing it. I did take this in conjunction with Nutrafol for several months and so I want to note that you are still within a safe range if you choose to add on Nutrafol after my discussion below. But I wouldn’t recommend staying on Nutrafol long term anyway (more on this below).

Bonus- Want some help with sleep or anxiety? You may also want to add Magnesium Glycinate (the glycinate formulation is the best tolerated). It increases melatonin production while decreasing cortisol. Try 300-500mg/day.

Probiotics

I struggled with a poor gut microbiome and recurrent BV for years and so this one is a bit personal for me and perhaps not necessary for everyone. But if you aren’t drinking kombucha everyday or eating a diverse plant based diet religiously, you may benefit here. If you’ve read any health article recently you may have heard how our gut microbiome affects everything. More and more science is coming out every day linking the gut microbiome to mental health, brain health, gut health, you name it. The best thing you can do for your gut microbiome is eat a diverse diet but if you need an extra boost for whatever reason, this is the gut probiotic I use and highly recommend:

And if you also struggle with recurrent BV, the vaginal suppository is great for replenishing the vaginal microflora and can be used in conjunction with the oral probiotic above for added benefit. But if you have an active infection, this does not replace the need for an antibiotic. It can reduce recurrence though.

Hair Growth supplements

This one is also personal but I know I’m not alone here. The stress and decreased sleep of residency caused me to experience hair loss and thinning at a rapid rate that I had never experienced before. I started using both Minoxidil and Nutrafol to help with this. Both do work and this is proven in the science. But it is important to note that Nutrafol studies show it is most effective in the first 3 months and then there seems to be a plateau in hair growth after that but may still have benefits at 6-12 months. And if you do choose to take this supplement, it also acts as a multivitamin of sorts and you may need to use caution (if you already take a multivitamin) that you are not crossing the threshold of toxic doses. Minoxidil (2 or 5% formulations both work) on the other hand is proven to be more effective than Nutrafol and may be a better option for you after the initial 3 months on Nutrafol if you do start to notice the effects wearing off. Minoxidil is an FDA approved treatment and for a reason. It is based on measurable objective data. The data on Nutrafol is based on “self-perceived thinning” without objective baseline measures. Minoxidil causes increased blood flow to the hair follicle and both Minoxidil and Nutrafol are anti-inflammatory in nature to encourage hair growth.

These are certainly not the only treatment options for hair loss, microneedling and low-level light therapy are also effective. But if you are looking for a quick start at home treatment, these are both great. Use them together or on their own.

Performance Supplements:

I am not going to go fully in depth here, there are actually a number of supplements that do specifically help with athletic performance. But I am going to keep this simple to what you should be taking everyday even if you aren’t working out.

Protein

As someone who eats a near fully whole food plant based diet, I supplement with Pea and Brown rice blend protein. A blended protein is going to get you more essential amino acids so I do recommend you use one that has both. If you aren’t plant based, you have more options. Ultimately you are going to need 1.6-2.2g of protein per kg of your body weight total each day. Most likely you probably aren’t meeting that with diet alone especially if you are plant based. So a protein powder with 25g of protein and 2g of leucine per serving is a good way to get you closer to that goal and ensure you are meeting the minimum requirement for health benefits. You are going to have to pay a bit of attention for a little while to how much you are ingesting daily at baseline and then titrate your supplementation based on that data. There is a lot of hype around protein heavy diets and I do caution around over doing protein as well and unused protein can still get turned into fat. We are going for the recommendations here, not trying to eat the most possible. This is the brand I use:

Creatine

This one is non-negotiable in my life. Everyone, and I mean everyone and especially women, should consider taking 5-10g a day. This is also very important for vegetarian/vegans. This is one of the most studied supplements with proven efficacy and safety. It improves brain health, muscle strength/endurance and bone health. Truly a high impact and game changing addition to your lifestyle.

Have a question about a specific supplement? Let me know in the comments. Chances are I have researched it myself and if I haven’t, I will gladly do so for you.

Leave a comment

General Disclaimer: This is not medical advice for you specifically. Always consult your healthcare provider before starting any supplements, especially if you have existing health conditions or take medications. And always do your own research too. This is your health and you have to take control of it.

Your platform isn’t meaningless. It’s formative.

It’s a place where you clarify your values, shape your voice, and practice contributing something uniquely human to the world. The desire to create—and to be witnessed doing so—is not random. It’s a signal.

And it deserves to be taken seriously.

Subscribe now

Creation moves you closer to your purpose

Committing to a platform means committing to producing something.

Let’s say you create one post per week. That means once a week you sit down and make something that reflects who you are and what you care about. If your platform aligns with your values—even loosely—then every week you are moving closer to your life’s purpose.

Don’t know what your purpose is? Look at what you create.

A mother sharing the unfiltered reality of postpartum life.

A physician translating complex research into plain language.

A creator making people laugh on their worst day.

These aren’t content strategies. They’re contributions to the world we inhabit together.

What you feel compelled to make may already be your purpose trying to take shape.

Creation shifts you from consumer to creator

Most of us spend far too much time passively consuming—scrolling, absorbing, numbing. Creating interrupts that pattern.

When you commit to a platform, your brain shifts into a different mode. You start synthesizing ideas. You ask better questions. You notice the world more carefully. You activate a creative part of yourself that consumption never touches.

This kind of expression regulates the nervous system in a way endless scrolling cannot.

Over time, your platform becomes a quiet check-in: How am I doing? What am I noticing? What feels worth sharing right now? That awareness alone is valuable.

Creation is an act of service

To create is to take what you’ve lived, learned, or questioned—and turn it into something that helps others feel less alone or more understood.

It requires filtering your internal world through the external one and offering it back as something meaningful. Even when AI is involved, you are still choosing the question, shaping the message, and refining it toward an intention.

Asking, What does the world need to hear or see right now?—and responding honestly—is a form of giving back.

That matters.

Creation demands deeper thinking

We all carry a singular perspective shaped by our experiences, fears, and values. Creating forces us to examine it.

To be seen, we must think more clearly. To connect, we must go deeper. We’re challenged to balance originality with shared humanity—to offer something both personal and universal.

In the process, we don’t just find our voice. We refine it.

And that refinement opens the door to more meaningful connections—with ourselves and with others.

Why I believe this matters

Working in emergency medicine, I see daily how fragile and finite a human life really is. I see how quickly things can change, and how often people wish they had lived with more intention.

Wanting to leave something behind makes sense.

Taking your platform seriously changes how you take your life seriously. It asks you to show up, reflect, and offer something real—again and again.

This isn’t shallow. It’s practice for living well.

If you’re new here, I’m Dr. Landon Eggleston, a board certified emergency medicine physician in Chicago. Clear View explores health and wellness through the lens of someone who interacts with life and death daily- offering a grounded perspective on what it truly means to make the most of your one wild and precious life. Lately, I’ve been exploring why your gut instinct matters, increasing inner peace, the beauty in doing hard things. If you feel called to live with more clarity, intention, and courage, this space is for you. Subscribe for free to receive new posts and join the conversation.

Share

Leave a comment