October will forever bring to my heart a desire to be quiet, find the spooky around every corner, and get cozy in my house in a way that no other month can quite replicate.
I love the thrill of a new spooky show, the silly jump scares of the kids’ Halloween specials, and the classic orange and black coloring that spreads over everything. Even as a kid, I loved the spooky stuff. Some of my favorite memories are ones that include just a little bit of a jump scare.
The first movie I remember seeing at the drive-in was The Others with Nicole Kidman. Sorry, Mom. I’m sure you hoped it was whatever kids’ movie we had actually gone there to see!
I distinctly remember my parents’ collection of Stephen King novels on a bookshelf at the end of the upstairs hallway. Nothing will ever compare to my first viewing of The Shining, only to have that movie become a frustrating disappointment later in life after reading the actual book. IYKYK.
Many happy hours were spent at my grandparents’ house watching Scooby-Doo reruns and particularly spooky-feeling episodes of Dexter’s Laboratory. As a parent now myself, I long for the days when my boys will be old enough to introduce them to those same shows.
And, of course, as any good millennial, my love for Harry Potter could not be dampened by anything, including the threat of eternal damnation I was assured would befall my soul.
But more than anything, my favorite thing to replay every October is a particularly simple and entertaining episode of Boy Meets World.
If you’re nodding along and wondering how you ever forgot, let me tell you: it’s on Disney, and the episode you’re now picturing so clearly is called “And Then There Was Shawn.”
Although it initially aired in February 1998, I have a core memory of sitting curled up on our plaid couch in October, watching Shawn Hunter be revealed as the murderer after twenty white-knuckled minutes of the episode.
Maybe I’m making that up. Honestly, that show is one of my favorite childhood memories, and if I’m misremembering the outside weather conditions, I’ll forgive myself.
Either way, I now make sure I carve out time every October to watch that episode and be transported back to almost-nine-year-old me experiencing it for the very first time.
And although I’m probably overthinking this now and ruining the whole concept of being a kid again for even a minute, I got thinking today about what the whole point of that episode actually was.
Truly, at the end of it all, the point was that Shawn, guilt-ridden after causing a fight between his friends, had a wild dream about killing all of them off and ultimately realized that he was the “villain” in his own story.
It was about taking responsibility for the events around you, especially when you actually do cause them.
As a side tangent, I love that this was the point being projected to us by a major network in the 90s. Overall, that show was really focused on teaching us core life lessons that were healthy, helpful, and never included the idea that adults were total idiots.
Again, I can’t wait for my kids to be old enough to watch this one.
A few years to go…
The good side of taking control
Coming back on track, that episode did amazing things for my psyche around understanding and taking responsibility for my own choices and actions.
It may not have given that impression at the time, but looking back now as an adult, I can see how that theme resonated throughout the show and especially in that episode.
Through a lot of influences in my life, one thing I’ve always believed is that I have the power to influence the world around me through my actions.
I don’t see the world through rose-colored glasses (although for a while in fourth grade I did wear red-tinted glasses to help with my dyslexia), but I have always seen my circumstances as something I can respond to and influence.
When I haven’t been happy in a job or have run out of room to grow, I’ve moved on.
When I started getting anxious about the food I was eating, I started cooking at home more.
When I was told no to an opportunity, I just moved on with the situation and found another way to do it.
And I’ve been like that most of my life.
My circumstances do not dictate how I see myself in the world or my ability to influence what happens next.
It wasn’t until college that I heard the phrase “internal locus of control” and found my heart beating so fast with excitement.
There were actually other people who identified this way!
Others could see all the obstacles coming towards them and just see them as that: obstacles.
Things that I could navigate through, around, over, under, or simply decide weren’t worth my effort.
Not every problem needed a perfect solution, but because of my internal locus of control, I knew I could find a solution.
And honestly, that has been one of my greatest strengths.
Until it wasn’t.
When responsibility becomes too much
Where I’ve struggled, and probably will continue to struggle with this, is taking that radical sense of control over my life and turning it into a belief that I need to be perfect in every single situation and superhuman outside of my home.
My need to take responsibility for my own actions often spreads beyond just my own actions and into other people’s as well.
And that, my friends, leads to burnout in your career.
About 18 months ago, I was so overwhelmed with life that there were days I couldn’t stop crying as I sat at my desk.
Thankfully, I worked from home a lot. 😅
Work was certainly the straw that broke this camel’s back, but life had also just gotten insane.
2021: Changed jobs, had a failed IVF round, passed a massive certification exam THE DAY AFTER finding out my embryos didn’t make it, changed jobs again, and moved to a different state.
2022: Another IVF round with ONE healthy embryo, changed jobs, and successfully carried my first son to term. Became a mom.
2023: Went back to work in January, decided we wanted to move back to Maine, moved to a rental house over the summer, sold our house in New Hampshire, worked 12-ish hours per day, five days a week, didn’t take a single day off—even to move—which meant everything was packed and done during my off hours or on weekends, got settled into our rental, and went under contract on a new house.
2024: Bought a new house, found out I was pregnant with my second son NATURALLY, finally took a vacation after working 14 straight months, moved into our new home, got pneumonia at 26 weeks, dealt with an extremely complicated pregnancy, had a baby, and worked 12-ish hours a day, including the day before going into labor.
By March of 2025, I was done.
Cooked.
Exhausted.
And then my boss quit our company, and I knew it was time to take action again.
But this time, I did it differently.
I didn’t give up control. I changed what control meant.
I slowed down.
I took my time.
I turned down five different job offers.
And finally, I made a choice that felt like a better middle ground.
When I started my new job, I had hard boundaries that I wouldn’t let be broken.
I stopped saying yes to every single little thing and only let myself be part of what truly was my area of responsibility.
And guess what?
The world didn’t stop just because I closed my laptop at 5 p.m. or actually took a lunch break.
My productivity didn’t go down just because I set a boundary.
I was still able to hold onto the sense of agency that I needed because of who I am, while also being a softer, calmer, happier version of myself.
There are days I don’t have that same outcome, of course. I’m human.
But most of the time, I’ve realized that I can still be me, bring softness where I want it, and not conform to the “hustle, boss babe” culture that so many of us corporate girlies fall into.
I’m still earning a paycheck.
I’m still being productive.
I still have a lot of control over my life.
But I’m doing it from a place of peace and with a rhythm, not with a crazy, frantic energy that requires me to work 60+ hours a week.
And I think that’s the part I’ve been missing all along.
Having an internal locus of control doesn’t mean believing I can control everything.
It means believing that even when I can’t control what happens around me, I still have a choice about what I do next.
I can’t control whether someone else does their job.
I can’t control whether a boss quits.
I can’t control whether an opportunity works out.
I can’t control whether my body cooperates with my plans.
I can’t control whether life decides to throw five enormous things at me in the same year.
But I can decide what I do with what comes next.
I can say yes.
I can say no.
I can stay.
I can leave.
I can set a boundary.
I can change course.
I can decide something isn’t worth my energy anymore.
And maybe that is the lesson I needed all along.
I think as I’ve come out of my own Halloween nightmare, much like Shawn Hunter in 1998, I’m finally learning to recognize the difference between being responsible for my life and being responsible for everything in it.
Those are not the same thing.
I don’t need to become less capable in order to become softer.
I don’t need to give up my ambition in order to have peace.
I don’t need to stop taking responsibility for my choices in order to stop carrying everyone else’s.
I can still be the woman who sees an obstacle and figures out how to navigate around it.
I just don’t have to believe that every obstacle is mine to move.
And honestly?
That’s a lesson I’m pretty happy to take with me into this next chapter.
Maybe Boy Meets World was onto something after all.
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