Find Your Anchor

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it really means to stay steady.

Not just strong—but anchored.

In my mind, it feels like a weight inside of us.

Not the kind that drags you down.

The kind that keeps you grounded.

When everything feels uncertain—when life feels loud, chaotic, and out of alignment—that internal weight is what keeps you from flailing. It keeps you from making rushed, life-altering decisions just because you feel unsteady.

Uncertainty has a way of making people panic. We rush. We jump. We abandon ship too quickly.

I’ve done that before.

Instead of anchoring myself, I jumped ship—thinking motion alone would save me. Looking back, I don’t know how that ever helped. It only left me tired, unprepared, and starting over.

This isn’t something you can fully capture in a framework. This is internal work. It’s felt, not measured.

I think of a ship at sea.

Smooth waters one moment.

Then sudden wind.

Rain.

Darkness.

The ship sways. It shuffles. There’s turmoil.

That’s when you drop the anchor.

Not to quit.

Not to give up.

But to steady yourself.

Anchoring doesn’t mean you stop living. It means you pause long enough to think clearly—to plan, to focus, to re-center—so you don’t drift off course simply because the storm made you anxious.

Sometimes, anchoring means waiting the storm out.

And sometimes, it means navigating to the nearest dock.

If you reach a dock, you have choices.

You can wait until the storm passes.

Or you can use that time wisely.

Because where there’s a dock, there’s a town.

You can rest.

You can gather supplies.

You can learn something new.

You can meet people.

You can rebuild parts of your boat.

So that when the storm clears—and it will clear—you’re not scrambling. You’re ready. You’re resourced. You’re stronger than you were before.

This is the part we don’t like to talk about—especially in academic or achievement-driven spaces. We want certainty. Definitions. Clear timelines.

But ambiguity is part of life.

You can study every framework in the world and still face moments where the answer isn’t obvious. In those moments, the missing piece isn’t strategy—it’s centeredness.

Find your anchor.

Find the internal weight that steadies you when everything else feels like it’s moving too fast.

Don’t flail.

Don’t jump ship.

Don’t rush just to escape discomfort.

Stay steady.

Anchor yourself.

And trust that clarity returns when you stop fighting the waves.