$pent Millennial

Dear Reader,

It all counts.

Lately, I’ve been feeling guilty. Like I haven’t been doing enough with everything going on in the world.

It feels like I should be doing more.

Growing up, whenever I learned about important moments in history—moments of injustice, moments when people needed to stand up and speak out—I always imagined I would be on the front lines. Leading. Raising my voice. Fighting the “good fight,” as they say.

Maybe some of that was youthful thinking. Egocentrism. Main character syndrome.

But I’ve always felt that I have—and have been raised with—a strong sense of justice. I’ve never been too timid or afraid to speak up for myself or for others. A recent Enneagram test even revealed my type to be a “Challenger,” which honestly feels fitting.

And yet, recently, I’ve been afraid that I haven’t been speaking up loudly enough. Challenging enough. Acting boldly enough in the midst of current events.

The poem First They Came by Pastor Martin Niemöller has been haunting me. I fear I’ve been too silent in the face of evil and injustice happening to others.

And that fear has felt heavy.

But as I’ve sat with it, I’ve realized something about myself: I’ve always had a tendency to believe that if I can’t do everything, then what I’m doing somehow doesn’t count.

It has always been in my nature to want to do the most.

In middle school, I took every music elective and every advanced placement class—burying my schedule and myself under pressure. That pattern continued throughout my education and into my professional life.

It was never enough to just be doing something.

I had to do it all.
All the time.
All at once.

Even in my financial wellness journey, it wasn’t enough to start by paying off debt or building a savings cushion or learning to invest.

I felt like I had to do all three immediately—or else I wasn’t really doing it right.

And even now, when I’m working out, and an instructor offers a modification, I have to intentionally remind myself: that isn’t cheating.

It’s still movement.
It’s still effort.
It still counts.

I’m still learning that you don’t have to do everything all at once for your actions to matter.

And that lesson has been coming up for me again lately, especially in the context of justice, community, and the kind of difference I want to make in the world.

This past week, I listened to an episode of the We Can Do Hard Things podcast.

I almost didn’t hit play, because part of me was afraid it would confirm the negative thoughts I’d been carrying—everything I haven’t done, everything I should be doing.

But instead, as I listened, I felt myself exhale.

As their podcast so often does, it met me exactly where I was.

It reminded me that the small, daily choices we make—the ways we show up, the ways we care, the ways we contribute—matter more than we realize.

That change is not only made in grand gestures, but also in consistent, quiet acts of love and service.

Suddenly, I was thinking differently about my own daily work.

Like the volunteer council and committee I am on with the local United Way’s Women United, where we focus on lifting women in our community through financial empowerment.

Or my work at the neighborhood center, helping students find literacy and academic success through interest-based small group tutoring.

Providing after-school care. Warm meals. Safe spaces.

Building relationships.

Creating an environment where young people feel seen, heard, and loved.

These things may not be everything.

But they are not nothing.

The podcast reminded me of that truth: it all counts.

Instead of leaving me overwhelmed or paralyzed with guilt, it left me feeling steadier. Motivated.

So I signed up for a few upcoming WisDems events this month—and recruited others to join me.

Not because I suddenly figured out how to do it all…

But because doing something is meaningful.

What the episode did for me also reminded me of a truth I try to carry, especially when working with children:

You cannot expect someone to do better by making them feel worse.

Shame doesn’t spark change.
Support does.

Encouragement does.

Being met where you are does.

I’m grateful for the words and work of the We Can Do Hard Things crew for making me feel grounded, and for challenging me—gently—to keep showing up.

So, I closed out one week and am entering a new one fueled by their reminder, and by the quiet evidence of the work already happening in my own community.

As you work your way through this week, I hope you don’t discount any of the seemingly “small” things you do.

Because, as they say, the small things often end up being the big things.

And thank you for joining me in this small thing I do each week.

Until next week – take care,
Everett