That same week, I was on scheduled leave for a family medical situation. It was also the first week of fall semester, which—as a professor and program director—is its own kind of triage.

None of that stopped me from saying yes to four more things.

I have a tendency to get excited about possibilities.

A new idea. A project I could take on. Something I could learn. A collaboration. An invitation. A completely new direction that suddenly seems very interesting.

And I’ve started to think there’s something particularly dangerous about being a person who is both ambitious and curious.

There is always something else to do.

And because I’m usually capable of doing it, I can make a pretty convincing case for why I should.

That doesn’t mean I should.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately: how easy it is to confuse having the capacity for something with actually having the capacity for it.

Those are very different things.

I like shiny objects

Not literally, although I’m certainly not above being lured by a pretty thing.

I mean opportunities that feel exciting because they’re new.

There’s a certain energy that comes with being asked to do something. Someone sees something in you. You get invited into a room you weren’t previously in. An idea starts taking shape and suddenly you can see all the ways it could work.

It feels like momentum. And sometimes it is.

But sometimes it’s just distraction wearing a really nice outfit.

That’s been an important distinction for me to learn: not every good opportunity is a good opportunity for me.

Some things can be objectively great and still be the wrong thing to take on. Some opportunities are worth pursuing immediately, some are worth keeping in the back of your mind, and some are worth saying no to—even when the no feels a little uncomfortable.

The problem with saying yes

The obvious cost of an opportunity is whatever it requires from you: hours, meetings, work, travel, mental load.

But there’s another cost that’s easier to overlook: what that yes prevents you from doing.

Time doesn’t magically appear when a new opportunity comes along. If I say yes to something, I’m also saying no to something else: time with my family, time to work on something I’ve already committed to, space to think instead of constantly producing.

Here’s the question I keep circling back to:

Is it more valuable to get really good at one thing? Or moderately good at five?

I think ambitious women are especially susceptible to this trap, because we tend to be pretty good at figuring things out. We see an opportunity and think, I can make that work. And usually, we can.

But can is not always the right question. The better one might be:

Do I want to make this work badly enough to give something else up?

Just because it’s shiny doesn’t mean it’s valuable

I have to remind myself of this every time something new comes along that seems particularly exciting.

New doesn’t automatically mean better. Interesting doesn’t automatically mean important.

It’s flattering to be chosen. But I don’t always need to accept.

There’s a certain amount of validation wrapped up in opportunity. Someone thinks you’re qualified. Someone wants your opinion. Someone asks you to join something.

Of course that feels good.

But as my priorities have evolved, I’ve realized I don’t want my calendar to become a collection of other people’s evidence that I am capable. I want it to reflect what I actually care about.

I am willing to disappoint someone

This has been a big lesson for me.

There was a time when I thought ambition meant continuing to add as many things as possible to show for myself.

For the record, there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting more. But there’s a point where adding more stops being synonymous with moving forward.

The “next step” doesn’t always have to be another thing. It can also mean doing the thing that’s already in front of you, but better.

I make a conscious effort to protect the time and energy required for the parts of life that don’t show up on my résumé.

Am I less ambitious than I used to be? Or am I just more intentional about what I actually want?

Five questions I ask before saying yes

1. Do I actually want this, or do I just like being asked?

2. Does this fit with what I’m trying to build right now?

3. What will this require from me beyond the obvious commitment?

4. What am I giving up by saying yes?

5. If I say no, what does that give me room for?

There will always be another shiny object

Another interesting idea. Another invitation. Another thing I could potentially do.

The trick is remembering that I don’t need to pick up every shiny thing just because it catches my eye.

My goal isn’t to have the fullest calendar. It’s to have a life that’s full of the things I actually want in it.

The Edit is a curated look at what I’m using, loving, and restocking—thoughtful selections that support consistency, ease, and real life (not just special occasions). Think of it as my running list of tried-and-trusted essentials or items that make my day-to-day life feel a little more seamless.

With Labor Day Weekend coming up, I wanted to share a few sales I’ve come across…

Ring Concierge is running a 20% off sale. This ring is an everyday piece for me, and this link chain necklace reminds me of the Tiffany HardWear collection at a much more affordable price point.

Serena & Lily is up to 40% off. We have these rugs at our front and back doors and this rug in our family room, but I also love their tablecloths and napkins.

Aureum is running a 25% off sale. I wore this belt multiple times a week last fall, winter, and spring and almost always received a compliment on it.

The NET-A-PORTER sale section is so good right now. I picked up this Dôen dress for fall events, and this belted suede bucket bag also caught my eye.

Harper Wilde is running a 40% off sale. I wear this bra every day, and it’s so comfortable I forget I’m wearing it.

And, last but not least, tell your guy it’s time to refresh his underwear.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and especially, thank you to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is for women building a career and a family at once. If that resonates, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

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All product recommendations reflect my own personal experience, research, or professional judgment. Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

Coming to you casually with a post completely written on my phone (how do people routinely publish like this?!) with a very quick pulse check this week because it’s the first week of classes, my email is absolutely exploding, and I’m actually on leave for some family stuff (everyone is fine).

A few things I’m into right now:

WATCHING: Kristin Cavallari’s AD Open Door. Despite being Team LC back in the day, I love seeing inside other people’s homes and little peeks into their lifestyle and lifestyle design choices.

Also watching The Double Lives of Suburban Wives (I cringe as I admit this) and OMG. I have thoughts. I will say nothing else because I don’t want to spoil it, but if you’re watching too, please tell me because I need someone to discuss this with.

WEARING: My mockneck sweatshirt that has now sold out twice. I wore it this week and it is crazy-cozy-good. I love the minimalist logo and the funnel neck detail.

Also! My custom boots from Kemosabe are in and I am completely obsessed. We have a trip to the Tennessee mountains coming up next month and I will be styling them on repeat. While they don’t offer the chocolate brown option online, they did just release the boot in a very pretty and sexy black.

FLORIDA FALL: Found brown plaid boxers and a brown linen scoop dress and that—sadly—may be all I need for “fall” in Florida.

Also found a cute cardigan that reminds me of the one that sold out almost immediately during the Nordstrom sale. If you missed it, this is giving similar vibes.

THE BAG: This croc-effect tote is a really good alternative if you like the look of my Python tote and have been wanting to scratch the animal print itch. I love a bag that is basically one color but has enough texture to keep it interesting.

THE SHOE: I know the Birkenstock Naples are amazing. But what about the Le Monde Béryl Allegra? I keep coming back to them. They have that same easy, throw-on-and-go vibe but feel much more polished. I’m very tempted.

THE TABLE: We have been a cloth napkin family since 2017. Our current set need replacing, so I found these and they’re exactly what I want for our fall table—a little golden, a little warm, but not so fall that I’ll be sick of them by October.

(Use CHRISTINAC15 for 15% off anything on the Geometry site)

MEAL PREP: I made a quinoa, edamame, and ponzu salad with ground chicken this week (highly recommend this cookbook if you’re looking for plant-forward, low-ish effort recipes) and it has been on repeat. It is a fiber lover’s dream and such a balanced, filling, and nutrient-dense meal. I eat it straight out of the bowl or pile it into lettuce cups and top it with avocado when I want it to feel a little fresher.

That’s the pulse check.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

Subscribe

Every essay published on Plan of Care begins with my own experiences, ideas, research, analysis, and original writing. I am solely responsible for the conceptualization, initial drafting, and final content of every post.

I use artificial intelligence as an editorial tool to refine language, improve clarity and organization, and optimize metadata and search discoverability (SEO). AI is not used to generate the underlying ideas, opinions, recommendations, or lived experiences shared in this publication. Every piece is reviewed, edited, and approved by me before publication.

All product recommendations reflect my own personal experience, research, or professional judgment. Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

Not a new season, new me reset. I don’t need a new planner, a new organizational system, or a 5 AM morning routine that will last approximately four days. I need the kind of reset that will make the life I already have feel a little bit easier and better.

And after our return trip from vacation, I need it.

ICYMI, our outbound flight was delayed 2 hours and 45 minutes. In a mad dash across the airport with a toddler, stroller, and car seat in tow, we somehow made our connection as the last people on the plane. Then we got into weather and had to divert from Tampa to Miami. We sat on the plane for another hour and a half being told we’d refuel and continue to Tampa. Instead, we sat on the runway long enough for a flight attendant to time out. Cue the tears—mine or the inside, my toddler’s on the outside.

At that point, I wasn’t thinking about getting home to unpack or catching up on work.

I wanted a shower.
I wanted to wash my hair.
I wanted my own bed, clean pajamas, my skincare, and to snuggle with my cat.

Basically, I wanted my life back.

It reminded me how much I appreciate my little rituals of being home, especially this time of year. As a nursing professor and toddler mom, I don’t want to enter the fall semester already feeling disheveled and behind (especially in Florida, where “fall” is mostly a calendar event for the next several months).

Here is what I’m refreshing to feel like I’ve got my life together…

Reminder: Reset for the Life You’re Actually About to Live

Back-to-school season can make you feel like you need to buy an entirely new life.

New clothes. New shoes. New lunch containers. New organizational systems. New beauty products. A new planner that will somehow solve the problems of the world (it won’t). I’m not doing that.

I shop for the life I actually live:

The morning workout.
The school drop-off.
The workday.
The afternoon survival scramble.
Dinner.
The bath and bedtime routine.
The evenings when I want to change into pajamas as soon as humanly possible (or sooner than socially acceptable).
The weekends when I want to do something fun and feel comfortable and cute.
The occasional day when I want to do absolutely nothing.

The things I choose to buy make those moments easier, more comfortable, and/or more enjoyable.

The Hair Reset

My hair is usually the first place I notice that summer has happened: Sunscreen. Sweat. Swimming. Product buildup. Travel.

It all adds up.

So before I start pretending I’m going to have a polished fall hair routine, I start with a clean slate (and a much-needed haircut).

Scalp scrub

I love a scalp scrub when my hair needs an actual reset rather than another wash. I have been loyal to this product for years (and am so in awe of ). Every time I use it, I immediately wonder why I don’t do it more often.

Detox shampoo

This is another essential, especially if you’re a fellow curly girl or use a lot of hair products like I do to battle humidity/frizz/life in general. After weeks of sunscreen, sweat, creams/gels, chlorine, and whatever else has accumulated, I want something that actually gets everything off. I use this about once a week and my hair feels so light and fresh after. I’ve also heard incredible things about this dry shampoo, but I personally haven’t tried it.

Mason Pearson brush

If you know, you know. If you don’t, I realize this sounds like a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a hairbrush.

Styling

Post-everything shower, I use this and this to nourish and style my curls.

The Skin Reset

My skincare routine doesn’t change dramatically with the seasons, and I’m not interested in having 14 products lined up on my bathroom counter. TBH, that amount of clutter would probably send me into distress.

So here’s my Two Minute, Ultra-Minimal, Barrier-Protecting Skincare Routine for Humid Weather:

1. Cleanser

2. Hydrating essence

3. Biologique Recherche Sérum Amniotique when I want lightweight hydration and barrier support OR Vintner’s Daughter Active Botanical Serum when my skin feels like it needs a little more nourishment.

4. DIME or ELEMIS facial mist

That’s literally it.

If I’m feeling fancy-ish, I’ll do my Lazy Girl Makeup Routine.

The House Reset

This is probably the least exciting category, but the one that makes the biggest difference.

After travel, I want my house back to baseline.

Sheets washed. Laundry done. Refrigerator cleaned out and restocked. Bathroom counters cleared.

LAFCO candle

I love a LAFCO candle because it makes the house smell incredible almost immediately. The art glass containers are also gorgeous and so fun to repurpose. PSA: There is no need for a special occasion to light a nice candle. Just light it.

Fresh sheets and towels

I would argue that fresh sheets and towels are some of the highest-return resets available. If yours are looking tired, this is the time to replace them.

A few other small upgrades

I’m also looking at the things I touch every day:

A luxurious hand soap.
A body oil I actually like using.
Laundry detergent that makes doing laundry slightly less offensive.
Fresh flowers.

For Your Mini

I polled multiple moms with school-age kids and the opinions about labels were… strong. I took their advice and totally understand the hyper around these.

Pack their water bottle, lunchbox, snack bag, and sunscreen into a backpack with their name on it, and you’re good to go!

The Back-to-School Wardrobe Reset

I don’t need a new fall wardrobe, but I do need clothes that can keep up with my actual life.

I use the change of seasons as a moment to do a quick closet audit: what am I actually wearing? What have I been avoiding because it doesn’t fit quite right, needs tailoring, or requires more effort than I’m willing to give it at 7:00 AM? What can I sell or donate?

Before I buy something new, I ask myself:

Will I use this?
Does it solve a problem I actually have?
Does it work with the things I already own?
Am I going to reach for it on a random chaos-day? and finally,
Would I still want this if I hadn’t seen it online, styled perfectly, in a picturesque setting, on a model with an ideally proportioned body?

There are certain categories that earn their place every year:

A classic pair of jeans.
A fresh cardigan or sweater.
A jacket—leather, sporty, quilted, or canvas.
A comfortable sneaker.
A loafer (or ballet flat if you’re not a lady who loafs).
An everyday bag—shoulder or top handle.
A few easy tops (tank, slouchy, long sleeve) that don’t require much thought.

While taking inventory, I shopped my closet for the latest round of back-to-school activities. I wore this dress with these sandals for Parents Night, these pull-on jeans, this top, and these ballet flats for Meet the Teacher, and this dress and these sandals for First Day of School Drop Off.

What I’m Actually Trying to Reset

I don’t want my version of self-care to become another project, I want it to make my life feel more like mine so that ordinary parts of the week can feel good.

So wash your sheets, scrub your scalp, buy yourself flowers, light the candle, and use the good serum before you look at your calendar.

And if the very expensive hairbrush has been sitting in your cart for six months? I’m not going to talk you out of it.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

Every essay published on Plan of Care begins with my own experiences, ideas, research, analysis, and original writing. I am solely responsible for the conceptualization, initial drafting, and final content of every post.

I use artificial intelligence as an editorial tool to refine language, improve clarity and organization, and optimize metadata and search discoverability (SEO). AI is not used to generate the underlying ideas, opinions, recommendations, or lived experiences shared in this publication. Every piece is reviewed, edited, and approved by me before publication.

All product recommendations reflect my own personal experience, research, or professional judgment. Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

I am 25 years old, working as an RN in the trauma ICU while finishing my nurse practitioner degree. My fiancé is 29 and in his first year of surgical residency, working approximately “80” hours a week for roughly $45,000 a year.

I am making around $50,000.

We are not rich, but I feel rich in life.

We live in a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment that costs $1,600 a month, split evenly between us. It feels expensive, but the view of the water and the sunsets has the ability to re-center us even on the hardest days.

One of us pays the utilities and the other buys groceries. There is no elaborate financial system. There is just: you get this, I’ll get that.

His extra income goes almost entirely toward his student loans. I am paying private graduate school tuition by the semester, which is its own special kind of financial anxiety. Every semester, I hand over a truly offensive amount of money and then remind myself that this is temporary and will soon pay for itself.

We are also planning a wedding.

I am one of the first of my friends to get engaged, which feels significant at the time. Despite carrying a mountain of student debt, my fiancé spent basically all of the money he received for graduating medical school on my engagement ring. I still think about that.

We are not exactly living the life of two young professionals who have figured it all out.

The “light” at the end of the tunnel may or may not be a train.

Most weeks, we barely see each other. Sometimes I pick up a night shift for extra money while he is working a 24-hour shift because there is a possibility that our paths might cross at the hospital. This qualifies as a date.

Occasionally, if things are calm—which is a relative term in an ICU and an even more relative term on a surgical service during residency—we meet at the McDonald’s in the hospital at 2 AM for McFlurries.

Two exhausted people who love each other, in hospital clothes, sitting under unforgiving fluorescent lights, eating ice cream in the middle of the night.

Romance.

But I would not trade those McFlurry dates for much.

We are both constantly tired. I am studying when I am not working. He is working when he is not sleeping. I am thinking about graduating from NP school. He is learning the ins and outs of intern year. I am starting to think about what comes next for me after graduation.

At some point, the idea of a doctorate enters the conversation. I don’t know exactly why I want to keep going, I just know I’m not finished. The thing about being in school for this long is that there is always another finish line. Graduate. Get certified. Get licensed. Get a job. Maybe get a doctorate…

At the time, I don’t have a five-year plan. I have a direction: academics or administration.

Meanwhile, a lot of our friends are starting to absolutely crush it on Wall Street or in the startup world. They have the jobs, salaries, apartments, travel perks, and seemingly endless dinners and weekends away. We have neither the money nor the schedule for much of that.

Traveling somewhere is not simply a matter of booking a flight or hitting the road. It requires finding a pre-approved week—which may or may not include weekend days—when a medical resident isn’t working, when an ICU nurse isn’t working, and when there isn’t an exam or a rotation or some other obligation we can’t move. So we mostly don’t go anywhere.

We live in the black hole of the grind:

Work. School. Residency. Studying. Wedding planning. Sleep when possible. Repeat.

And yet, I don’t remember feeling particularly deprived.

Maybe because everyone around us is grinding, too. There is something comforting about being surrounded by people who are also in the middle of it. We are all building something, even if what we are building looks wildly different.

I think we know something that is easy to forget when we compare ourselves to people who are already making serious money: This isn’t forever.

We know the point of all of this.

The years of school. The debt. The extra shifts. The missed weekends. The 2 AM McFlurries. The tiny apartment. The lack of vacations. The fact that our friends are becoming established and promoting in their roles while we are still counting tuition payments.

We don’t know exactly what the end game will look like, but we trust that our lives will eventually have more breathing room, money, flexibility, opportunity, and choices. Eventually.

I am going to graduate from NP school. He is going to finish residency. I am going to figure out what kind of NP I want to become. We are going to get married.

One day, we will stop living around 80-hour work weeks and clinical rotations and tuition bills. Eventually.

The funny thing about looking back at 2016 is that I don’t remember wishing it away.

I am exhausted. I feel broke-ish. I am working extra shifts in the ICU, going to school, planning a wedding, and trying to find time to see my fiancé, who is working approximately one million “80” hours a week.

But I am happy. And we have each other.

We have jobs we care about, we are learning, we are becoming the people we want to be, and we have a plan, even if it is still being written.

And we genuinely believe we’ll be rich in the way that matters to us one day:

A career we’re proud of.
Financial stability.
A family.
The ability to travel.
The freedom to say yes to things.
A home we love.
More time together.

For now, we have a one-bedroom apartment, two demanding careers, a wedding to plan, a pile of student loans, and the occasional 2 AM McFlurry.

The year is 2026.

I am 35 years old. I have my doctorate. I have been a nurse practitioner for ten years and a nursing professor for five. I’ve been promoted and now serve as the director of my particular NP specialty at a large state university.

My husband finished residency five years ago. He is a board certified vascular surgeon who makes his own schedule.

We are not the same people who sat in a hospital McDonald’s eating McFlurries at 2 AM. But sometimes I can still see those two people pretty clearly.

We have bought and sold our first home. Our second home is currently on the market while we look for something bigger for our growing family.

We recently spent 2 weeks in Aspen as a family. And now we’re home, getting back into normal life while getting ready to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

Ten years.

Sometimes I think about the version of me who was planning our wedding and keeping us fed while paying graduate school tuition by the semester and working in the ICU. She would say it was all worth it.

I can generally afford to purchase or plan to purchase the things I want. If I want a nice outfit, I can buy the nice outfit. If I want to book the trip, I can book the trip. If there is something for our child, our family, or our house that I really love, I don’t have to immediately calculate whether buying it means something else has to wait.

That freedom is not lost on me. I know exactly how hard we worked for it. But I also notice that I don’t actually want everything.

I have gotten much better at distinguishing between wanting something and actually valuing it. I don’t want my life to become an endless exercise in upgrading things simply because I can.

I remember what it felt like to have very little discretionary money. I remember when a vacation required more logistical planning than it does now. I remember student loans and tuition payments and making a one-bedroom apartment work. I remember thinking that someday we would have more. We do.

But more money wasn’t the thing I was actually chasing. It was more time, freedom, and experiences.

“Dates” that don’t have to happen at 2 AM.
Vacations that don’t require coordinating around residency and final exams.
Time with our family and the people we love.

The funny thing about finally getting some of the things you spent your twenties working toward is realizing how little of your happiness actually comes from owning them.

I appreciate beautiful things. I like a nice house, good clothes, a great meal, and a luxury hotel. I am not going to pretend otherwise. But I don’t want to confuse the ability to buy something with the obligation to buy it.

There is something incredibly satisfying about being able to say, I could, but I don’t really want to.

That feels like a different kind of wealth.

It does feel good to have enough money, but the real luxury is having choices.

Ten years ago, we were living in a one-bedroom apartment, paying down debt, working opposite schedules, and eating McFlurries at the hospital at 2 AM.

Today, we are looking for a bigger house because our family, careers, and lives have grown.

The things I once thought would make me feel successful are not the things I treasure most.

The greatest gifts are time and memories with the people I love.

We made it through years of grinding and are now getting ready to celebrate ten years of marriage.
We get to choose each other every day.
We get to raise a family together.
We can take two weeks off and go somewhere beautiful.

After all those years of working toward more, I can finally recognize that more was never really the point. I wanted a life that felt full.

In 2016, I thought it was something we were working toward.

In 2026, I realize we’ve had it all along.

Shoutout to for inspiring today’s post.

The Edit is where I share what's earning a place in my daily life—pieces I'm reaching for, products I'm replacing, and purchases that make the everyday feel a little easier or a little more enjoyable. Not just for special occasions, but for real life.

I’ve been obsessing over these newly released loafers for fall and would be totally OK with dressing for cooler weather immediately.

20% off of this natural diamond eternity bead stopped me in my tracks. While I have absolutely no need for one, I always appreciate something sparkly.

recently wrote about her sunglasses obsession, and now I’m on the hunt for my perfect pair of pilot frames. This pair and this pair are my top contenders. Thoughts?

We already know my love for this mascara, but this blurring lip stain and liner have officially joined the rotation. They glide on so nicely and somehow manage to be moisturizing and matte, with no transfer.

I wore this dress for new student orientation and it can truly do no wrong. Neither can these.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

Every essay published on Plan of Care begins with my own experiences, ideas, research, analysis, and original writing. I am solely responsible for the conceptualization, initial drafting, and final content of every post.

I use artificial intelligence as an editorial tool to refine language, improve clarity and organization, and optimize metadata and search discoverability (SEO). AI is not used to generate the underlying ideas, opinions, recommendations, or lived experiences shared in this publication. Every piece is reviewed, edited, and approved by me before publication.

All product recommendations reflect my own personal experience, research, or professional judgment. Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

“I’m turning assignments in on time. I’m reading. I’m studying constantly. But when I sit down for exams, especially pathophysiology, pharmacology, and health assessment, I freeze. The questions feel different than what I studied. I know my anxiety is part of it, but I don’t know what to do.”

If this sounds familiar, I want you to know something:

Studying more and studying effectively are not always the same thing.

And if you’ve made it into an NP program, the problem is almost certainly not that you’re incapable of learning the material.

In fact, many of the students who struggle the most with exams are some of the hardest-working people in the room.

The issue is often that graduate-level testing requires a different skill set than the one that got you here.

The Trap of Being a Good Student

Many NP students arrive in graduate school after years of academic success.

They already know how to complete assignments, read every chapter, create detailed notes, highlight important concepts, and watch lectures multiple times.

These are valuable habits. But board-style exams are not testing whether you read the material. They’re testing whether you can apply it.

It’s a completely different cognitive task.

You can spend ten hours reviewing heart failure pathophysiology and still struggle with a question that asks:

“Which patient is at greatest risk for decompensation?”

…because now you’re being asked to prioritize, synthesize, and apply knowledge rather than simply recall it.

This transition catches a lot of students off guard.

Unpopular Opinion: Reading isn’t studying

Years ago, I noticed something interesting about my own study habits.

After spending hours reviewing content (and trying to pronounce words like Thiazolidinedione), I would close the book feeling productive. But if I forced myself to explain the topic without looking at my notes?

I couldn’t do it nearly as well as I thought.

What felt like “learning” was often familiarity. I could recognize the information, but I wasn’t necessarily able to retrieve it.

One of the biggest mistakes students make is measuring study success by time spent rather than information retained.

Four hours of passive review often accomplishes less than thirty minutes of active retrieval.

Why Test Anxiety Feels So Powerful

Anxiety is rarely just anxiety.

Most of the time it’s a combination of:

• Fear of failure

• Perfectionism

• Imposter syndrome

• High personal expectations

• Significant financial investment

• Competing responsibilities at work and home

In other words, the exam becomes about much more than the exam.

I’ve worked with students who weren’t simply answering questions about diabetes or asthma. In their minds, they were answering questions about whether they belonged in the program at all. That’s a heavy burden to carry into an exam.

Anxiety consumes cognitive bandwidth, and your working memory may become occupied by thoughts like:

“What if I fail?”

“How does everyone else understand this?”

“I should know this.”

“I can’t afford to get this question wrong.”

Your brain can’t devote full resources to problem-solving when part of it is busy managing perceived threats.

What Board-Style Questions Are Actually Testing

You might not believe me, but I promise: board-style questions are not trying to trick you. They are trying to assess your clinical judgment.

The question writer wants to know:

• Can you identify the most important information?

• Can you recognize the clinical pattern?

• Can you determine the safest or most appropriate intervention?

• Can you prioritize what matters most?

This is where I see students get themselves into trouble. They know too much. Or, more accurately, they bring too much of what they know into a question that doesn’t require it.

Do not—and I repeat, do not—bring your personal experiences, outside context, or assumptions into the question.

You are being asked to answer the question using the information provided in the stem. That’s it.

If the question doesn’t tell you that the patient has a particular comorbidity, medication, symptom, history, or risk factor, you cannot assume that they do. If you’ve seen a similar patient in clinical practice who had an entirely different presentation, that experience doesn’t change the question in front of you.

This can be especially difficult for nurses and experienced clinicians because we’ve been trained to think broadly. We naturally want to anticipate what could happen next, consider every possible variable, and draw on our lived clinical experience.

Those are valuable skills in practice, but sometimes they work against you on an exam.

Answer the patient in front of you—not the patient you’ve seen before.

If the stem gives you exactly what you need to identify the diagnosis, don’t spend five minutes inventing three additional diagnoses that could explain the presentation.

If the question asks for the most likely diagnosis, don’t start solving for the rarest possible one.

If it asks for the next best step, don’t answer with what you would eventually do three steps later.

Read the stem like a clinician. Read the question like a test-taker.

I encourage you to stop asking: “Why is the right answer correct?” and instead ask: “Why are the other answers wrong?”

That second question forces you to think about prioritization and clinical discrimination (the exact skills these questions are designed to test).

When you review a missed question, don’t simply memorize the correct answer. Ask yourself:

• What clue in the stem should have gotten me there?

• What made the other choices less appropriate?

• Did I miss something or add something that wasn’t there?

That last question is particularly important because sometimes the knowledge gap isn’t the problem. Sometimes the problem is that you knew too much and talked yourself out of the answer.

Read more

It’s become one of our favorite family traditions.

While we’re away, my messages fill with the same questions: Where should we eat? Which hikes are actually worth it? Is Aspen kid-friendly? What should I pack?

This year, I kept notes.

Aspen is often synonymous with ski season, but summer in the Rockies is a different kind of magical. Wildflowers and greenery replace snow, mornings are made for hiking, afternoons are spent wandering (shopping) in town, and evenings end around a great meal.

If you’re planning a summer trip, save this guide.

At a Glance

When we visited: Late June–early July

Length of stay: Two weeks

Who traveled: Two adults, one adventurous 3-year-old, and two grandparents

Packed: Carry-on luggage only, plus checked toddler supplies (travel bed, stroller, travel car seat, hiking pack)

Best for: Families, hikers, food lovers, shoppers, and anyone looking to experience Aspen beyond ski season.

Trip highlights: Morning hikes, Fourth of July festivities, the Snowmass Rodeo, fly fishing, custom cowboy boots, incredible meals, and plenty of coffee and playground stops in between.

Note: Everything linked in this guide reflects places I’ve personally visited, hikes I’ve completed, or products I’ve actually packed and used.

Feeling Outdoorsy (Hikes)

One of the biggest perks of summer in Aspen is that the mornings are cool enough to hike comfortably. We tried to be on the trail early, before the afternoon sun, winds, or thunderstorms rolled in.

Rio Grande Trail

Difficulty: Easy

Our favorite arrival-day walk. It’s mostly flat, paved, and the perfect way to acclimate to Aspen’s altitude without overdoing it.

Ashcroft Ghost Town & Castle Creek

Difficulty: Easy

Part history lesson, part scenic walk. If you have time, it’s well worth the drive outside of Aspen.

Hunter Creek Trail

Difficulty: Easy to Moderate

If I could only recommend one hike in Aspen, it would be Hunter Creek. We’ve hiked it twice, and I’d happily do it again. It’s challenging enough to feel like a workout without taking up your entire day.

Smuggler Mountain

Difficulty: Moderate to Challenging

Short, steep, and rewarding with panoramic views overlooking Aspen. Perfect if you’re looking for a quick workout.

Maroon Bells to Crater Lake

Difficulty: Moderate to Challenging

No Aspen guide would be complete without Maroon Bells. The mileage isn’t intimidating, but don’t underestimate the altitude. The climb to Crater Lake is absolutely breathtaking (literally and figuratively) and worth the effort. Be sure to reserve parking in advance if you plan to drive!

My Rankings

• Best in-town hike: Hunter Creek Trail

• Best views: Maroon Bells to Crater Lake

• Best first-day hike: Rio Grande Trail

• Best workout: Smuggler Mountain

• Best history stop: Ashcroft Ghost Town

Hiking With a Toddler

Every hike on this list (with the exception of Smuggler) was completed with our three-year-old on my husband’s back.

Traveling with young kids doesn’t mean giving up the adventures you love—it just means having the right expectations and the right gear. I’ve worn these waterproof hiking shoes for the past three seasons. A comfortable hiking carrier allowed us to tackle longer trails without worrying about tired little legs, and collapsible trekking poles made uneven terrain much more manageable while carrying extra weight.

For the Foodies

One of the best parts of returning to Aspen every summer is revisiting our favorite restaurants while trying a few new ones along the way.

Lunch

• White House Tavern (split the burger and the chicken sandwich!)

• Poppycock’s Cafe

• Silver’s

• Aspen Brewing Company

• Hickory House

• Taco Piña

• Woody Creek Tavern (in Woody Creek)

• Tipsy Trout (in Basalt)

These are all perfect after a morning hike or before an afternoon of shopping.

Dinner

• Casa Tua

• Clark’s Oyster Bar (went for lunch and dinner—our only repeat meal this trip)

• Monarch

• Saint Ambroeus

• Lola 41

• Ellina

If you plan to eat out, you’ll need a reservation (most reservations open 30 days in advance). We also cooked dinner at home a few nights and grabbed takeout from Bangkok Happy Bowl after one especially full day outside.

Coffee & Sweet Treats

• Felix Coffee

• Saint Ambroeus

• Paradise Bakery (don’t skip the affogato!)

For the Family

Aspen is incredibly family-friendly, and these parks became part of our daily routine.

• Herron Park

• Wagner Park

• Yellow Brick Park

• Bluegrass Sundays at the top of Ajax (requires a gondola ticket)

Whether we needed to burn off energy before dinner or take a break after shopping, these were always worth a stop.

Fourth of July in Aspen

If your schedule allows, I can’t recommend visiting over the July 4 holiday enough. The town celebrates in a way that feels festive without losing its small-town charm.

This year, our holiday lineup included:

• a family carnival at Rio Grande Park

• an outdoor concert and picnic at Wagner Park

• a family 5K race benefiting youth mentoring

• Aspen's Old Fashioned 4th of July Parade followed by burger-dogs and treats at Hotel Jerome

• an evening drone show

Shopping

Shopping (and window shopping) is one of my favorite Aspen traditions.

This year’s highlight was being fitted for a custom pair of cowboy boots at Kemo Sabe. I selected this pair in a chocolate python leather, with my initials on the pull straps—I can’t wait for them to arrive. I also purchased a suede python tote from Gorsuch. Clearly, I’m having a moment for snake.

The rest of the trip was spent wandering boutiques, discovering new brands, and mentally bookmarking pieces for future seasons. I was particularly excited to see/touch pieces from Toteme, TWP, Dragon Diffusion, Leset, Isabel Marant, and Call It By Your Name in person. Be sure to check out the incredible curations at Pitkin County Dry Goods and REVOLVE/FWRD and the Ralph Lauren outpost for iconic Western aesthetic.

I’ve created an Aspen packing edit featuring the pieces I packed and what I purchased during the trip. If you’re planning your own mountain getaway—or simply love elevated Western style—I also created an edit inspired by looks at the Snowmass Rodeo.

Packing a Carry-On for Two Weeks

Packing for Aspen is trickier than it looks. A typical summer day might start in the 40s, warm into the 70s, include a mountain hike, lunch in town, shopping in the afternoon, and dinner somewhere fabulous.

One of the questions I receive most often is how I packed for two weeks in Aspen using only a carry-on. The answer was choosing versatile pieces that could work across multiple settings (our rental also had laundry!).

I packed…

• 4 cropped white tee shirts,

• 4 pairs of hiking/athletic shorts,

• 2 pairs of biker shorts,

• 1 pair of hiking pants,

• a wind/waterproof layer,

• 2 pairs of denim (these in brown and blue),

• a white sleeveless top,

• a unitard that I layered with this (in Odeon and Air Kisses), this, and this,

• a dress, and

• a skirt and top that could be worn together or separately.

For shoes, I packed a black and a brown sandal, an athletic shoe, a hiking shoe, and of course, a cowboy boot. In hindsight, I could have swapped one of my sandal options for a fun sneaker.

I also brought my everyday belt bag and my Picotin.

I am a proud outfit repeater/mix-and-matcher, never felt over- or under-dressed, and never felt like I was missing anything. My goal wasn't to have endless options—it was to have pieces that worked harder.

Aspen is one of those rare destinations that works equally well for outdoor enthusiasts, food lovers, shoppers, and families. It manages to feel both adventurous and restorative at the same time.

Early mornings on the trail. Memorable meals. Afternoons wandering through town. Coffee breaks. Playgrounds. Shopping. Mountain air that convinces everyone to head to bed early.

Needless to say, we’ll be back next summer.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

Every essay published on Plan of Care begins with my own experiences, ideas, research, analysis, and original writing. I am solely responsible for the conceptualization, initial drafting, and final content of every post.

I use artificial intelligence as an editorial tool to refine language, improve clarity and organization, and optimize metadata and search discoverability (SEO). AI is not used to generate the underlying ideas, opinions, recommendations, or lived experiences shared in this publication. Every piece is reviewed, edited, and approved by me before publication.

All product recommendations reflect my own personal experience, research, or professional judgment. Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

Even now, long after I’ve stopped buying binders for myself, there’s something about August that makes me want to refresh my collection of pens, organize my desk, and think about what I want to learn next. As a professor, I’m revisiting lectures, updating assignments, and getting ready to welcome a new group of students into the classroom. Every year, I ask myself:

What will my graduates remember a year from now?

It won’t be every learning objective. It won’t be every reading or every perfectly designed slide. It certainly won’t be APA format.

If I’ve done my job well, they’ll remember how a concept or clinical outcome made them think differently. More often than not, that starts with a story.

That realization has changed the way I teach, but it’s also changed the way I lead.

Storytelling isn’t just for the classroom. It’s how we mentor new colleagues, earn trust with patients, advocate for change, and help people make sense of uncertainty.

Whether you’re leading a team, precepting a student, or explaining an idea that matters, you’re asking someone to follow your thinking.

Stories are the bridge between information and understanding.

Start where something changes.

When we tell stories, we have a tendency to over-explain.

We begin with all the background information because we’re worried someone won’t “get it.”

Ironically, that’s often the moment we lose them.

Curiosity is a remarkably effective teacher. Let people wonder for a moment. They’ll happily follow you to the context.

Teach through one person.

Healthcare has taught me this lesson over and over.

Statistics matter. Evidence matters. Data absolutely matters.

But people connect with people.

I may forget the exact prevalence of a disease, but I’ll never forget the patient who taught me what living with it actually looked like.

The same is true in leadership.

If you’re trying to explain why a process needs to change, tell me about the employee who struggled because of it.

If you’re teaching professionalism, tell me about the mentor who changed the trajectory of your career.

One person often carries more emotional weight than an entire PowerPoint presentation.

Don’t rush to the moral of the story.

Whenever I teach, I feel responsible for making sure everyone walks away with the “right” lesson. But I’ve found stories become more powerful when we share what we learned instead of telling everyone else what they should learn.

People are remarkably good at finding themselves in your story if you leave them room.

Leave people with something to think about.

The best storytellers don’t tie everything up neatly or end with a perfectly packaged life lesson.

They leave a little space. A question. An uncomfortable realization.

I’ve found myself thinking less about how I want people to remember me (though I hope I’ve made a positive impression!) and more about what I want them to remember after they’ve moved on in their professional lives.

Those are two very different goals.

The first is about performance. The second is about impact, which almost always lasts longer.

As clinicians, educators, parents, and leaders, we spend a lot of time trying to become more knowledgeable. That’s important. But knowledge alone rarely changes people.

Stories do.

Stories don’t simply transfer information. They transfer perspective.

And perspective is usually where transformation begins.

The Edit is where I share what's earning a place in my daily life—pieces I'm reaching for, products I'm replacing, and purchases that make everyday life feel a little easier or a little more enjoyable. Not just for special occasions, but for real life.

There are some beautiful leather goods on sale at Toteme right now. I picked up this pouch, but also love this wallet and suede tote.

If you’re looking for something preloved (perhaps a new work tote for Fall?), Fashionphile is currently offering an extra 10% off with code MUSTHAVE.

The pre-fall collection at Tuckernuck is especially good this year. Their dresses are giving just enough of a nod to fall while still being Florida-friendly. I’ve got my eye on this, this, and this.

We’ve used this baby monitor every single day—at home and while traveling—for the past three years, and I recommend it without hesitation. It's currently 20% off through the end of the month with code SHOPMYJULY.

The Nordstrom Anniversary Sale runs through August 9. I've rounded up all of my favorite finds here, but this has been the community favorite from the edit.

I'm always happiest when my closet and routines feel edited rather than full, so you'll rarely find dozens of recommendations here—just the things I'd happily buy again.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

Every essay published on Plan of Care begins with my own experiences, ideas, research, analysis, and original writing. I am solely responsible for the conceptualization, initial drafting, and final content of every post.

I use artificial intelligence as an editorial tool to refine language, improve clarity and organization, and optimize metadata and search discoverability (SEO). AI is not used to generate the underlying ideas, opinions, recommendations, or lived experiences shared in this publication. Every piece is reviewed, edited, and approved by me before publication.

All product recommendations reflect my own personal experience, research, or professional judgment. Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

The first is the one we buy into online. It’s aspirational. It involves the perfect routine, the perfect skincare shelf, the perfect planner, the perfect morning.

The second is much less glamorous.

It’s logistical.

Lately I’ve become convinced that most happiness isn’t found by adding more things to life. It’s found by making the things that already make life better just a little easier to do.

Not because life is supposed to be optimized.

Because friction matters more than motivation.

I used to think discipline was the answer to almost everything.

If something mattered enough, I’d simply make time for it.

Then adulthood happened.

Work. Marriage. Motherhood. Pregnancy. Laundry. Grocery shopping. The endless mental tabs that never seem to close.

I’ve realized I don’t actually need more discipline.

I need fewer barriers.

That tiny shift in perspective has changed the way I make decisions.

Instead of asking, How can I become the kind of person who does this consistently?

I ask:

It’s a surprisingly different question.

If walking clears my head, why would I choose to live somewhere where every walk requires getting into my car first?

If strength training makes me feel stronger, calmer, and more like myself, why am I relying on perfect timing to make it to a gym after work?

If cooking dinner makes me healthier but I’m exhausted every evening, why am I pretending I’ll suddenly become someone who loves elaborate weeknight meals?

Sometimes the solution isn’t becoming more disciplined.

Sometimes it’s changing the environment.

James Clear popularized the idea that environment shapes behavior more than motivation ever will. I think that’s true, but I don’t think we talk enough about using that idea for joy instead of productivity.

We hear plenty about making healthy habits easier.

But what if we applied the same thinking to the things that simply make us happy?

Maybe buying the expensive coffee maker isn’t about coffee.

Maybe it’s about creating five peaceful minutes every morning that you actually look forward to.

Maybe investing in a home gym isn’t about building the perfect physique.

Maybe it’s about removing the 25-minute drive, the parking, the packed locker room, and every excuse that steals movement from your week.

Maybe paying more to live somewhere walkable isn’t about real estate.

Maybe it’s about designing ordinary Tuesdays that include fresh air without requiring planning.

Maybe ordering flowers every Friday isn’t frivolous.

Maybe it’s maintenance.

Not for the house.

For yourself.

I’ve started thinking about purchases differently.

Instead of asking whether something is worth the money, I ask whether it meaningfully removes friction from something I already know improves my life.

That’s a much higher bar than buying things because they’re trending.

It also feels much less consumeristic.

I’m not collecting more. I’m editing.

Some purchases save time. Some save energy. A few save an entire version of yourself that slowly disappears when every good habit becomes inconvenient.

That’s the version worth protecting.

Especially during seasons that naturally shrink life down to responsibilities.

As women, I think we’re particularly prone to accepting unnecessary inconvenience.

We’ll drive across town for the only workout class that fits our schedule.

We’ll keep saying we want to read more while storing all of our books in a cabinet upstairs.

We’ll tell ourselves we’ll start exercising once life slows down.

We wait for conditions to improve instead of changing the conditions.

And I wonder how many things we genuinely love have disappeared—not because we stopped loving them, but because they became too difficult to access.

Joy has a threshold.

Sometimes the smallest amount of friction is enough to keep us from crossing it.

The opposite is true, too.

Sometimes making something easier makes it happen significantly more often, and that’s an incredible return on investment.

The people whose lives seem effortlessly full of the things they enjoy aren’t necessarily more motivated.

They’re architects.

They’ve designed lives where the things they value are close at hand.

The guitar stays on a stand instead of in its case.

The running shoes live by the front door.

The vegetables are already washed.

The walking trail starts outside their neighborhood.

The gym is in the garage.

The good olive oil stays on the counter because they cook almost every night.

None of these choices are dramatic.

But collectively, they’re transformative.

Maybe that’s what adulthood actually is.

Not finding more hours. Not becoming more disciplined.

Just becoming increasingly thoughtful about removing the barriers between ourselves and the lives we’re trying to build.

I’ve stopped thinking of these changes as luxuries. They’re infrastructure.

And good infrastructure has a way of making ordinary days feel surprisingly rich.

Maybe that’s the kind of self-care worth investing in.

The Edit is where I share what's earning a place in my daily life—pieces I'm reaching for, products I'm replacing, and purchases that make the everyday feel a little easier or a little more enjoyable. Not just for special occasions, but for real life.

This pop of red is perfect for summer, Labor Day, and holidays (but also how pretty is this espresso raffia?).

This yuzu lemonade with electrolytes and probiotics has been reviving me after my daily walks.

If you're looking for something light, flattering, and easy, consider this your permission to embrace the simplicity of the one-and-done summer dress. I'm loving this, this, and this.

I’ve used this facial mist for years, but was recently gifted this one and have been reaching for it just as often.

I can’t wait for my house to smell like this.

I'm always happiest when my closet and routines feel edited rather than full, so you'll rarely find dozens of recommendations here—just the things I'd happily buy again.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

The best deals.
The must-haves.
The items that will “sell out.”

And every year I find myself asking the same question:

Would I still want this if it weren’t on sale?

I’ve become much more intentional about shopping over the last few years. Part of that is becoming a mom. Part of it is getting older. Part of it is realizing that the pieces I reach for most aren’t necessarily the most exciting—they’re simply the ones that make getting dressed easy.

The best purchases aren’t the ones you wear once.

They’re the ones you reach for on busy morning before a day of work, errands, or activities. The sweater that ends up in your carry-on for every trip. The loafers you wear to teach, to dinner, and through the airport without thinking twice.

So instead of sharing everything worth buying from the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale, I’m sharing the pieces that earned a place on my list.

If you’ve been following Plan of Care for a while, none of these will surprise you.

They’re classics.

My Shopping Rule

I don’t shop sales to save money.

I shop sales to buy the things I was already planning to own.

That’s an important distinction.

If I wouldn’t pay full price because it doesn’t fit my lifestyle, it doesn’t belong in my closet just because it’s marked down.

Every piece below has to answer one question:

Can I imagine wearing this at least once a week during its season?

The “Third Piece”

The "third piece rule" is a styling trick where you elevate a basic top and bottom outfit by adding a third, intentional layer to complete the look.

It instantly adds structure, dimension, and personality, transforming a simple outfit into a polished ensemble.

These are the workhorses. The pieces that make everything else in your closet better.

Veronica Beard tailoring

A camel blazer never goes out of style.

It works over trousers for clinic, jeans for dinner, or thrown over a knit dress for conferences.

I especially love investing in tailoring during the Anniversary Sale because it’s one of the few categories where the savings are actually meaningful.

The leather jacket you’ll own for a decade

The Rag & Bone Archer leather jacket isn’t trendy.

That’s exactly why I like it. It’s one of those rare purchases that somehow gets better every fall.

A trench coat that actually gets worn

The Theory trench feels polished without trying too hard.

It’s equally at home over scrubs on a chilly morning, travel clothes in the airport, or a sweater dress in October.

The sweetest sweater

My weekends usually involve some combination of coffee, playgrounds, travel, walking, or wandering through a farmers market.

This garden sweater is polished enough for any activity and cozy enough to wear all day.

Heritage jackets

Barbour has mastered the jacket that somehow looks better every year.

It’s practical enough for outdoorsy things with my family but polished enough to wear into town afterward.

I also added the Hunter fleece because every wardrobe needs one genuinely comfortable layer that still feels intentional.

Denim that works with everything

Madewell and Levi’s make some of my favorite approachable denim.

I included both the wide-leg and utility barrel silhouettes because they pair with nearly every sweater, tee, blazer, and shoe already in my closet.

The Levi’s trucker jacket also deserves an honorable mention.

If I could only own one denim jacket, that’s probably the one I’d choose.

Elevated Basics

Basics shouldn’t feel basic.

When purchased thoughtfully, these are the pieces that become your most worn clothing.

• Favorite Daughter rib bodysuit

• Favorite Daughter rib top

• Madewell oversized tee

• Madewell striped sweater

• Rag & Bone striped tee

• COS merino zip polo

They’re simple. But they’re also the pieces that make packing easier and getting dressed faster.

The Dresses

I’m always looking for dresses that don’t require an occasion.

The Veronica Beard cotton dress and the STAUD striped midi both check that box.

Wear them with sandals now. Boots and a cardigan later.

Shoes Worth the Investment

If there’s one category I rarely regret spending more on, it’s shoes.

The Margaux loafers are exactly the kind of understated luxury I appreciate.

Comfortable enough to walk in. Classic enough to wear for years.

The cap-toe slingbacks feel timeless and instantly elevate jeans or tailoring.

Little Treats

Not every purchase has to be practical. Sometimes it’s the small things that make everyday life more enjoyable.

For me, that’s the Favorite Daughter baseball cap.

The flirty bra that actually fits.

A colorful quarter-zip that makes an early morning coffee walk a little brighter.

What I Didn’t Buy

You probably noticed something missing.

There aren’t sequins.
Statement coats.
Ultra-trendy boots.
Or pieces that only work for one season.

That’s intentional.

I’m trying to build a wardrobe that supports my life instead of asking me to build a life around my wardrobe.

The older I get, the more I appreciate clothing that lets me think about everything else.

My Advice If You’re Shopping the Sale

If your cart feels overwhelming, start here:

• One great jacket.

• One pair of denim.

• One sweater.

• One pair of shoes.

• A handful of elevated basics you’ll actually wear every week.

That’s enough.

The Nordstrom Anniversary Sale isn’t an opportunity to reinvent your style. It’s an opportunity to invest in the version of yourself that’s already working.

And I think that’s always money well spent.

Shop My Complete Nordstrom Anniversary Sale Edit

I’ve linked every piece from this roundup above. If you’re building a timeless wardrobe or replacing well-loved staples, I hope this edit helps you shop a little more intentionally.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

Slow mornings. Coffee while it’s still hot. The ability to throw in a load of laundry between meetings.

They’re not wrong.

They’re just not seeing the whole picture.

More often, working from home means something else entirely: constant accessibility and very little separation between my professional and personal life.

My husband leaves for work fairly early each morning, sometimes before our son wakes up. By the time the door closes, I’m already mentally sorting through the day ahead. There are graduate admissions applications to review, manuscripts waiting for revisions, doctoral students to mentor, staff to meet with, posters to edit, recommendation letters to write, medical staff packets to complete for new nurse practitioner graduates, and an inbox that somehow refills faster than I can empty it.

Around 7:00, my son wakes up.

From that point forward, the day becomes an exercise in switching roles—sometimes every few minutes.

Breakfast.

Coffee.

Getting dressed.

Then we head outside for our daily 3-5 mile walk with the stroller.

The walk has become one of my favorite parts of the day. My son points out every excavator, airplane, bird, and bunny we pass. I answer his questions while quietly organizing my own thoughts—how to respond to peer reviewers, what feedback to give a doctoral student, whether that abstract finally says exactly what I mean.

It’s amazing how much thinking happens while pushing a stroller.

Back home, the calendar takes over.

Today includes a doctor’s appointment, a meeting with one of my doctoral students, and a meeting with academic advising. Between meetings, I review applications from aspiring nurse practitioners, revise a conference poster, respond to emails, and work through another round of manuscript edits.

Some days the work is deeply intellectual.

Other days it’s administrative.

Most days it’s both.

Working from home has undeniable advantages. I don’t spend hours commuting, and I get to eat lunch with my son instead of at a hospital cafeteria or campus office.

But the tradeoff is that work is never really somewhere else.

My office is down the hall. My laptop is always within reach. Emails continue arriving throughout the day, and because I’m home, there is often an unspoken assumption that I’m available.

A student has a question.

A faculty colleague needs an answer.

A manuscript revision is due.

A recommendation letter is needed sooner than expected.

A Teams notification pops up while I’m making lunch (if I remember to eat lunch).

The boundaries between professor and mother aren’t simply blurred, they’re constantly negotiated.

I’ve answered emails while stirring pasta sauce, reviewed poster revisions during a swim lesson, and mentally rewritten paragraphs while walking through the neighborhood. There are evenings when I close my computer only to open it again after bedtime because the work didn’t end; it simply paused while I shifted into another role.

The irony of working from home is that everyone assumes you’re more present.

Sometimes you’re actually more divided.

Physically, I’m home.

Mentally, I’m moving between reviewer comments, committee work, curriculum planning, and tomorrow’s meetings while simultaneously remembering that we’re almost out of milk and someone still wants to read Goodnight, Goodnight, Construction Site one more time.

Academia has always rewarded responsiveness, but remote work amplifies it. The expectation is rarely spoken aloud. When your workplace lives inside your home, it’s remarkably easy for work to expand into every empty corner of the day if you let it.

By late afternoon, I intentionally close my laptop.

Another shift begins.

We read books.

Build towers that immediately get knocked over.

Play outside.

Make dinner.

Clean the kitchen.

Bath time.

Pajamas.

Bedtime stories.

When my son finally falls asleep, the house becomes quiet in a way it hasn’t been all day. My husband walks through the door (hopefully before bedtime) after his own long day. We catch up, talk about tomorrow, reset the house, and before long, we’re getting ready to do it all again.

People often ask how I balance it all.

The honest answer is that I don’t think balance is something you achieve.

I think it’s something you renegotiate every single day.

Some days research moves forward.

Some days students need more of me.

Some days my family does.

Some days simply keeping everyone fed, loved, and cared for is enough.

I’ve stopped measuring my days solely by what I produce.

Instead, I measure them by whether I was present for the things that mattered most… even if that presence looked different from one hour to the next.

Working from home has shown me that productivity isn’t always visible. Neither is caregiving. Much of the most meaningful work happens in the spaces between meetings, between manuscript revisions, between bedtime stories, and between the versions of ourselves we move in and out of all day long.

There is no perfect separation between my work and my life.

There is only this season.

One where my office is down the hall, my son is asking me to read one more book, my students are building careers, my scholarly work is slowly taking shape, and I’m learning—day by day—that being available to everyone isn’t the same thing as being present for what matters.

Working from home hasn’t simplified my life.

It has simply made me more intentional about deciding who gets my attention, and when.

Those boundaries aren’t perfect.

But they’re part of the work, too.

The Edit is where I share what's earning a place in my daily life—pieces I'm reaching for, products I'm replacing, and purchases that make the everyday feel a little easier or a little more enjoyable. Not just for special occasions, but for real life.

I purchased this and this from the Doen sale.

I just restocked my favorite mascara and grabbed this lip oil to try.

The handle of my husband's suitcase literally broke off while we were sprinting through the airport to make a connection (a story for another newsletter). If you're in the market for luggage, I've been incredibly happy with this.

There are still plenty of great finds available in this sale. That said, I tend to buy less and buy well, so I'd recommend whether they're on sale or not: this, this, and this.

I'm always happiest when my closet and routines feel edited rather than full, so you'll rarely find dozens of recommendations here—just the things I'd happily buy again.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

The rodeo may have been the main event, but the style in the stands deserved its own spotlight.

The women at the Snowmass Rodeo were proof that today’s take on Western dressing is polished, feminine, and thoughtfully styled. Think flowing skirts paired with leather, crisp tailoring softened by turquoise jewelry, heirloom-worthy boots, and accessories that felt collected rather than themed.

What I loved most was that no one looked like they were wearing a costume. Every outfit struck the perfect balance between classic Americana and modern fashion—pieces that would look just as chic at dinner in Aspen as they would in the rodeo stands.

I came home inspired and recreated six looks that capture the effortless elegance I saw all evening.

Whether you’re heading to a rodeo, a country concert, or simply love a touch of Western influence in your wardrobe, these outfits are a reminder that great style is all about the details.

Look One: Desert Romance

A Western-print maxi skirt paired with a leather fringe jacket is equal parts romantic and rugged. The flowing silhouette keeps the look feminine, while the jacket adds just enough edge. Finish with simple jewelry and classic cowboy boots for a look that feels timeless rather than trendy.

Look Two: Modern Cowgirl

A denim maxi skirt creates the foundation for one of my favorite combinations from the evening. A tailored cropped paisley shirt adds structure, while turquoise earrings and a coordinating belt bring in that unmistakable Western influence. It’s polished, colorful, and effortlessly cool.

Look Three: Fringe, Elevated

Fringe doesn’t have to feel over-the-top. A leather fringe maxi skirt becomes a true statement piece when paired with a clean white corset top. Add a beautifully beaded handbag for texture, and suddenly the entire outfit feels more fashion week than frontier.

Look Four: White Hot

A white eyelet lace matching set offers a fresh, feminine take on Western dressing. Bold, red cowboy boots provide the perfect contrast, while a suede fringe bag keeps the outfit playful and memorable. It’s the kind of look that turns heads without trying too hard.

Look Five: Denim Done Right

A denim shirt dress with contrasting Western embroidery proves that one standout piece can carry an entire outfit. Cream python cowboy boots and a studded Western-inspired bag keep the palette light, sophisticated, and easy to wear well beyond rodeo season.

Look Six: Americana, Reimagined

A red-and-white bandana print mini dress feels playful and nostalgic, while a denim fringe jacket gives it a modern finish. Silver cowboy boots and a matching metallic bag add just enough shine to make the entire outfit feel fresh, unexpected, and undeniably fun.

The Trend Report

After one evening at the Snowmass Rodeo, a few style trends were impossible to ignore:

• Maxi skirts are replacing denim shorts.

• Fringe feels modern when paired with clean, tailored silhouettes.

• Statement belts instantly elevate simple outfits.

• Turquoise jewelry remains a timeless Western staple.

• Metallic cowboy boots are surprisingly versatile.

• Texture—eyelet, embroidery, suede, leather, and beading—is what makes an outfit memorable.

The best part? None of these looks are reserved for the rodeo.

Western style has always been rooted in craftsmanship, quality, and individuality. The women at the Snowmass Rodeo reminded me that timeless pieces with personality never go out of fashion.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

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And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

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A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

You know the image.

The university appointment.

The teaching role.

The tertiary or quaternary referral center.

The conference presentations.

The email signature that somehow requires multiple lines.

The title sounds important because, in many ways, it is.

And yet, after spending my career in academic healthcare—as a nurse, nurse practitioner, and professor—I have come to believe something that feels almost taboo to say out loud:

Academic healthcare is often romanticized.

Not because the work isn’t meaningful.

Not because the people aren’t talented.

But because prestige has a way of disguising tradeoffs.

And sometimes those tradeoffs are significant.

The Story We Tell Ourselves

Healthcare loves hierarchy.

We rank hospitals.
We rank programs.
We rank specialties.
We rank schools.
We rank job titles.

The academic medical center often sits near the top of that hierarchy.

It’s where the sickest patients go.
It’s where research happens.
It’s where future clinicians are trained.
It’s where innovation is born.

And because of that, many of us internalize the idea that working there is somehow the ultimate destination.

I certainly did.

Early in my career, I was drawn to the highest-acuity environments. Trauma ICU. Organ transplant. Major referral centers. Places where complex patients arrived from across entire regions.

The work was fascinating.

The learning opportunities were endless.

The colleagues were incredibly smart.

But what nobody talks about enough is that prestige is a currency—and sometimes organizations use it instead of actual currency.

The Noble Work Discount

Many academic healthcare professionals know exactly what I’m talking about.

You work harder.
You wear more hats.
You sit on more committees.
You teach students.
You mentor trainees.
You contribute to quality improvement projects.
You participate in research.
You answer emails that somehow multiply overnight.

And often, you’re paid less than someone doing similar clinical work in a non-academic setting.

Not always.

But often enough that it’s become a recurring conversation among physicians, nurse practitioners, physician assistants, nurses, pharmacists, and other healthcare professionals.

The justification is usually implied rather than stated.

The work is meaningful.

The mission matters.

You’re shaping the future.
You’re contributing to science.
You’re teaching the next generation.

And all of that is true.

But meaningful work still requires labor.

Noble work is still work.

Purpose does not pay the mortgage.

The Echo Chamber Problem

There is another aspect of academic healthcare that I think deserves more discussion.

Academic environments can become echo chambers.

When everyone around you has spent their entire career in academia, it’s easy to develop assumptions about what “good” healthcare looks like.

Sometimes those assumptions are accurate.

Sometimes they’re not.

I’ve met brilliant clinicians in academic centers.

I’ve also met brilliant clinicians in community hospitals.

I’ve worked alongside extraordinary nurses at large academic institutions.

I’ve worked alongside extraordinary nurses at smaller hospitals that would never make national rankings.

I’ve seen incredible mentorship in academic settings.

I’ve also seen toxic leadership.

The reverse is true as well.

What I’ve learned is that excellence does not belong exclusively to any institution type.

It certainly doesn’t belong exclusively to academia.

There are outstanding healthcare professionals everywhere.

And there are struggling healthcare professionals everywhere.

The logo on the building doesn’t automatically determine which is which.

The Career Advice I Wish More People Heard

One of the most common questions I get from students and early-career clinicians is some version of:

“Should I work in academic medicine?”

My answer is usually another question.

“What do you want your life to look like?”

Not your résumé.

Your life.

Because those are not always the same thing.

Do you want to teach?
Do you want to conduct research?
Do you want to care for highly specialized patient populations?
Do you thrive in environments that prioritize innovation and education?

Academic healthcare might be a fantastic fit.

Or perhaps you want predictable hours.

Higher compensation.

Less bureaucracy.

A different pace.

Greater autonomy.

A closer connection to your local community.

A non-academic setting might be a better fit.

Neither answer is morally superior.

Neither answer makes you a better clinician.

Neither answer determines your value.

The Older I Get, The Less Impressed I Am By Titles

This is probably one of the biggest shifts I’ve experienced in my thirties.

When I was younger, titles felt incredibly important.

Professor.
Director.
Faculty.
Lead.
Chair.
Coordinator.

The longer I work, the more I realize that titles tell us remarkably little about whether someone is fulfilled.

I’ve met people with prestigious titles who were exhausted, cynical, and counting down to retirement.

I’ve met people with comparatively modest titles who genuinely loved their work.

What matters is whether your work aligns with your values.
What matters is whether your work supports the life you’re trying to build.
What matters is whether you can sustain it.

Because eventually, the novelty of the title fades.

The email signature becomes normal.

The LinkedIn announcement gets buried.

And you’re left with the actual job.

Choose Meaning, Not Prestige

I still believe academic healthcare serves an essential purpose.
I still teach.
I still value research.
I still believe training the next generation matters.

But I’ve become increasingly skeptical of prestige as a career compass.

Prestige is often external.

Meaning is internal.

One is about how your job looks.

The other is about how your job feels.

Those things occasionally overlap.

Sometimes they don’t.

And when they don’t, I think it’s worth paying attention.

The best career isn’t necessarily the one that sounds impressive at a dinner party.

It’s the one that fits your priorities, supports your goals, and allows you to build a life you actually enjoy living.

That’s true in healthcare.

And honestly, it’s probably true everywhere.

A few things I'm loving, using, and restocking this week…

1. This classic-but-modern sandal that has been mistaken for The Row several times

2. This peptide serum that gives me glass skin

3. This timeless day-to-night nano tote (currently 15% off!)

4. The sheerest mineral SPF I’ve ever used (clean/vegan/reef-friendly/cruelty-free!)

5. I’ve previously recommended this perfect summer cardigan and this quintessential striped shirt that are now included in the rag & bone warehouse sale

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

Not the dishwasher itself, of course.

What the dishwasher represented.

The dishes still needed to be put away. Dinner needed to be figured out. My inbox was full. My toddler was asking for a snack while actively eating a different snack. My husband asked a completely reasonable question, and I remember thinking…

Can nobody see everything I have to do?

We’ve all had moments like that.

The kind where it feels like one small thing is going to send you over the edge.

But later that evening, after everyone was fed and the house was relatively settled, I realized something.

The dishwasher wasn’t the problem.

It rarely is.

Most of the time, the thing causing stress is simply the place where stress finally shows up. The source is usually somewhere else entirely.

Lately, I’ve noticed that somewhere else is often inconsistency.

The kind that sneaks in when work gets busy, someone gets sick, you’re tired, or you’re simply trying to keep too many balls in the air.

Because here’s what I’ve been learning:

Inconsistency rarely stays where it starts.

The domino effect we don’t notice

I’ve started noticing that most of the stress in my life arrives two or three steps after the original decision.

That’s what makes inconsistency so difficult to identify.

We experience the consequence long after we’ve forgotten the cause.

Take budgeting.

Most financial stress doesn’t begin with one large purchase. It begins with a hundred small decisions made without much thought.

A Target run.

A few Amazon orders.

Takeout because everyone is exhausted.

An impulse purchase because you’ve had a long week and deserve a little treat.

Individually, none of these decisions are particularly meaningful.

Until suddenly the credit card statement arrives.

Then there’s a conversation.
Then the conversation isn’t really about money anymore.

Now it’s about priorities.

Communication.

Shared expectations.

Who is carrying the mental load.

The spending wasn’t the entire problem.

It was simply the first domino.

I’ve noticed the same pattern in almost every area of life.

A few weeks of inconsistent exercise doesn’t just affect fitness.

It affects sleep. Sleep affects patience. Patience affects relationships.

Now we’re talking about marriage, parenting, or workplace frustrations when the first issue started with movement.

The same thing happens with nutrition.
With work boundaries.
With household responsibilities.
With communication.

The ripple effects are rarely isolated.

The things that keep us well are often boring

I think one reason consistency gets such a bad reputation is because it sounds restrictive.

Rigid.
Predictable.
A little boring.

But the older I get, the more I appreciate boring.
Especially in this season of life, where surprises are rarely the kind that reduce my workload.

Boring is knowing what’s for dinner.
Boring is putting money into savings automatically.
Boring is laying out your running clothes the night before.
Boring is having a grocery list.
Boring is going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Nobody is applauding these decisions.

Nobody is handing out awards for remembering to meal prep or packing a lunch.

But those ordinary habits create an incredible amount of stability.
And stability is one of the most underrated contributors to wellness.

We often think wellness comes from doing more.

A new routine.
A new supplement.
A new planner.
A new app.

But some of the biggest improvements in my own physical and emotional health have come from repeating the same simple behaviors over and over again.

Not because they’re exciting. Because they reduce friction.

Predictability is underrated

As a nurse practitioner, I’ve spent years caring for patients whose bodies are under enormous stress.

One thing healthcare teaches you quickly is that the body likes predictability.

Regular sleep.
Regular movement.
Regular meals.
Regular recovery.

The nervous system doesn’t care whether your routine is impressive.
It cares whether it’s reliable.

I’ve noticed the same thing outside of healthcare.

Relationships thrive on predictability too.

Not perfection. Predictability.

Knowing who is handling childcare.
Knowing how bills get paid.
Knowing what responsibilities belong to whom.
Knowing someone will follow through.

When expectations are clear, there’s less room for resentment to grow, less room for misunderstandings, and less room for the tiny negotiations that drain our energy.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that uncertainty feels stressful.

Our brains are constantly trying to anticipate what’s next.

The more uncertainty we create in our routines, the more work we’re asking ourselves to do.

And most of us are already carrying enough.

Consistency isn’t a personality trait

For a long time, I assumed consistent people were simply more disciplined.

More motivated.
Better organized.
Better at life.

Now I think they just understand that consistency isn’t about perfection. It’s about having a rhythm to return to.

The women I know who seem the most grounded seem to have identified a handful of behaviors that make their lives easier and healthier, and they keep returning to them.

Not perfectly.
Just consistently enough.

That distinction matters.

Because perfection is exhausting. Consistency is forgiving.

Maybe consistency is a form of care

Lately, I’ve stopped thinking about consistency as discipline and I’ve started thinking about it as a form of care.

A way of making life easier for my future self and a way of reducing stress before it has the chance to accumulate.

A way of protecting my physical health, emotional health, marriage, finances, and home with the same handful of choices repeated over time.

The irony is that consistency doesn’t make life smaller. It creates more room.

More room for spontaneity.
More room for rest.
More room for joy.
More room for the unexpected things that inevitably happen.

Because when the basics are handled, everything else feels a little less heavy.

And maybe that’s why inconsistency feels so expensive.

The cost is rarely paid where the inconsistency started.

It’s paid downstream—in our stress levels, our relationships, our energy, and our sense of well-being.

Lately, whenever something feels harder than it should, I’ve stopped asking myself, What’s wrong?

Instead, I ask:

What rhythm did I lose?

More often than not, that’s where I find the answer.

Not in the dishwasher.
Not in the inbox.
Not in the moment that finally tipped me over the edge.

But in the small habits that support everything else.

The good news is that those habits are usually easier to rebuild than we think.

And sometimes, that’s all consistency really is.

Coming back.

A few things I'm loving, using, and restocking lately…

1. I am absolutely loving this pop of red. It feels fresh for July 4th but is classic enough to wear straight through Labor Day.

2. This archive sale is worth a look. I own the No. 2, No. 10, and No. 15, and they are some of the hardest-working accessories in my closet.

3. A girlfriend wore this Americana-but-make-it-activewear matching top and skirt to sunset drinks recently, and it was perfection.

4. I upgraded my toddler’s step stool to this beautiful, multifunctional nesting piece. It functions as a step stool, table, and chair, which means it actually earns its keep instead of taking up space.

5. I recently published a post on What to Wear Out West in Summer, and then I came across these pants. Exactly the kind of easy, versatile piece I had in mind.

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

Staying Well is a recurring series that explores the everyday rituals and rhythms that help us feel more grounded, nourished, and whole. In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

Not because I don’t know what I like—but because mountain towns do something slightly destabilizing to my usual style instincts. One minute I’m thinking linen set, effortless, neutral palette. The next I’m wondering if I need cowboy boots, a denim mini, and something that says “I could plausibly know how to ride a horse, but I also enjoy s’mores by the fire.”

Not aspirational, impractical outfits.
Not Pinterest outfits.

Just the small rotation I know will work for:

• wandering farmers markets in the morning

• lunch that turns into shopping

• rodeo days that feel like a scene from a different life

• dinners outside when the air gets cooler than expected

• and those in-between hours where you’re just… in the mountains, existing

If you've ever searched what to wear in Colorado in summer, mountain town outfit ideas, rodeo outfits for women, wearable western-inspired outfits, or Colorado packing list, this is that—but lived in, not costume-y.

My Colorado Summer Outfit Formula

If I had to reduce it down, everything I pack falls into a simple rhythm: soft western, relaxed linen, a strong base layer, easy dresses, and intentional accessories.

Nothing precious—I am a toddler boy mom, after all.

Everything layers.
Everything can shift from daytime to dinner without a full reset.
Everything also works back at home.

1. Graphic Tees + Skirts

A soft, slightly faded graphic tee (or white tee)—something that already feels like you’ve owned it for years—paired with a skirt that moves. What makes it work in mountain towns is the contrast: a casual tee with something slightly romantic on the bottom.

Think:

• A midi skirt in white, black, or patterned… or a slip skirt if I want it to lean slightly more elevated, plus…

• Your favorite white tee—survey says that this, this, and this are our community favorites, or

• A western-inspired graphic tee, like this, this, or this

I’d wear this with a simple sandal or a sporty sneaker that can handle brick streets without overthinking it, and pair it with a western-inspired belt or pouch bag.

This is the outfit for:
The kind of morning where you say you’re just getting coffee and somehow end up in three different shops +/- a brewery.

2. Mini Dresses + Cowboy Boots

If there’s one place cowboy boots feel completely correct, it’s here.

Mini dresses I reach for:

• A bubble dress that breathes in heat

• A simple, denim scoop neck

• A modern and minimalist white dress that feels easy, not precious

Let cowboy boots carry the “western” energy so the dress doesn’t have to, and add a touch of suede.

I’m partial to brown boots, but there are also some gorgeous black options out there. I particularly love these, these, and these in brown, and these, these, and these in black. Break them in before you travel—you want them to feel like they’ve already lived a little.

Go minimal with the accessories, or add a bolo tie, something turquoise, or a bead necklace to make a statement.

This is the outfit for:
Walking into the rodeo thinking you might feel overdressed and realizing immediately you under-packed rhinestone cowgirl energy, outdoor concerts, and dinners where you linger long after the plates are cleared because no one wants to be the first to leave.

3. Matching (non-athleisure) Sets

Matching sets or co-ords do most of the emotional labor in this suitcase and give the illusion of having everything together.

They help make everything feel intentional… even when nothing is.

What I pack:

• wide-leg linen pants or shorts + relaxed button-down

• matching linen short sets in neutral tones like this or this

• a knit top and bottom that work together or as separates

It works because it doesn’t ask anything of you.

A soft, slouchy leather bag and a classic wrap sandal complete it without trying to “elevate” it too much. The point is ease, not polish.

This is the outfit for:
Airport-to-car-to-lunch-without-ever-feeling like you need to ‘get ready’ again, brunch, the farmers market, grocery runs, and the “we’ve been sitting here for three hours and I didn’t notice” moments.

4. Intentional Activewear

Sometimes I just want to exist in public in a way that feels unhurried. These looks are for a really good walk and slow-ish mornings.

Outfits here should handle sun, walking, and iced coffee spills:

• An athletic dress

• An oversized button-down over biker shorts, pull-on shorts with a western twist, or track shorts

• A tank + swishy pants +/- a boxy half-zip layered on top

Wear with Birkenstocks (how fun is this studded pair?), flip flops, or clean sneakers and add a hat (baseball cap or straw), a shopper tote, and sunglasses.

This is the outfit for:
Grabbing iced coffee in something you might have worked out in, but mostly just lived in.

5. Loungewear, AKA family-friendly/“I’m in someone else’s house” outfits

If you’re traveling with friends or extended family, this category becomes essential.

My favorite family-friendly pajamas:

• these or these, plus

• the softest robe that actually feels like a blanket

There’s something underrated about feeling put-together in the morning without needing “getting ready time.”

It makes shared travel feel easier in a way you only notice when it’s missing.

This is the outfit for:
Late nights where everyone is still talking and you’ve already mentally transitioned into pajamas but no one is ready to end it yet.

Packing like this always reminds me that getting dressed isn’t really about clothes—it’s about how I want to move through a place.

Mountain people, what am I missing?

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

There’s a particular kind of sting that comes from being blindsided at work.

It’s not the stress of a heavy week.
It’s not the normal friction of strong personalities.

It’s that slow, sinking realization that someone—or a group—has acted in a way that undermines you.

They left you out of an email thread.
They misrepresented your role in a project.
They threw you under the bus in a meeting.
They created drama where none existed.

If you work long enough in any organization—healthcare, academia, corporate leadership, startups—you will eventually experience this.

And when it happens, your nervous system wants to react.

You want to defend.
You want to expose.
You want to retaliate.
You want to tell everyone what really happened.

But here is the discipline that has protected my career more than any other strategy:

You are nobody’s friend.
You are nobody’s enemy.
You are a professional.

The Emotional Trap of Workplace Betrayal

Especially in caring professions—and yes, nursing is full of this—we are socialized to value closeness. Camaraderie. “We’re a family.”

But organizations are not families.

They are systems.

When you confuse a system with a friendship, you are vulnerable to emotional overexposure. And when someone “screws you over,” the pain feels personal.

Because you made it personal.

The shift that changed everything for me was this:

My job is to fulfill the duties outlined in my job description.
Full stop.

Not to win popularity contests.
Not to manage other people’s insecurities.
Not to referee petty dynamics.

Just to do the work. Exceptionally well.

The Power of Professional Neutrality

Professional neutrality is not coldness.
It is clarity.

It looks like:

• Staying factual.

• Documenting interactions.

• Avoiding gossip.

• Refusing to engage in inflammatory conversations.

• Not matching someone else’s emotional escalation.

If someone attempts to create conflict, you do not need to meet them there.

You do not need to clap back.
You do not need to “set the record straight” in the group chat.

You need to escalate appropriately.

And that word—escalate—makes people uncomfortable.

But escalation, when done correctly, is not dramatic.
It is procedural.

Escalate Through the Chain of Command

If behavior crosses into:

• Misrepresentation

• Unprofessional conduct

• Policy violations

• Hostility

• Repeated undermining

The most sustainable strategy is to move it formally through the appropriate chain of command.

Not emotionally.
Not publicly.
Not reactively.

Formally.

That means:

1. Document specific incidents (dates, behaviors, impact).

2. Request a professional meeting.

3. State observations without adjectives.

4. Ask for resolution aligned with policy.

5. Follow up in writing.

When you escalate formally, you shift the issue from interpersonal drama to organizational accountability.

And here’s the key:

You are no longer fighting a person.
You are protecting the integrity of the system.

How This Protects Your Reputation

Read more

Somewhere between Mother’s Day, my son’s third birthday party, graduation season, manuscript revisions, and the annual chaos that descends on higher education every spring, I blinked and somehow June arrived.

I’m not entirely sure where the month went.

What I do know is that it left behind a lot of frosting-covered memories, a few unfinished goals, and a growing appreciation for the small things that made life feel good in the middle of the chaos.

Monthly Favorites

Bakes & Bites: The culinary highlight of the month was unquestionably my son’s birthday cake, which was rockstar-themed.

He requested a chocolate Oreo cake, and after two days of baking, frosting, assembling, and hoping for the best, I delivered.

The real miracle wasn’t the cake itself—it was having enough slices for the absurd number of children running around our yard.

If you’ve ever hosted a kid’s birthday party, you know that cake math becomes a surprisingly high-stakes exercise. I used this cake-cutting trick to maximize servings, and it worked far better than expected.

I also marbled some guitar-shaped cutout cookies (because two desserts are better than one).

On the savory side, I’ve been on a serious tomato toast kick lately.

Apparently, tomato toast is a distinctly Southern thing. As a Florida girl, this feels like information I should have known sooner.

My current version starts with thick-cut sourdough, a swipe of mayonnaise, sliced tomatoes, provolone cheese, Everything But the Bagel seasoning, and a drizzle of olive oil. It’s simple, salty, crunchy, and exactly the kind of meal I crave when the weather feels too hot for anything complicated.

Outside of the house, we shared a fantastically indulgent meal with friends at La Violetta.

Watching: We finished Rooster and DTF St. Louis this month.

Quirky. Funny. And, wow. That was darker than I expected. I’ll leave it at that.

Shoppies: May was unintentionally a low-buy month.

I restocked my favorite bike shorts and was graciously gifted a beautiful pair of woven sandals from one of my favorite brands.

Otherwise?

I’ve been in a complete style rut.

Florida currently feels like the inside of a wet oven, and I’ve reached the annual point where every outfit feels either too hot, too sticky, or somehow both at the same time.

If you’ve seen me lately, there’s a strong chance I’ve been wearing some variation of jean shorts (sorry and the Substack Moms!) or boxers, an oversized button down, and wishful thinking.

Your favorite finds of mine from May were this dress and these hoops, but you also loved many of the picks from my Memorial Day Weekend shopping guide.

If you’ve got Father’s Day shopping on the brain, might I recommend…

• A lightweight, UPF hoodie. Sun protection meets style and function.`

• A cotton-mesh polo. Breathable, stylish, and perfect for a sharp-but-comfortable look.

• A breathable slip-on. Easy on, easy off, and keeps feet cool in every season.

• A water-, drop-, and crush-proof portable smart speaker. Tough enough for adventures (or every day with small children), sounds incredible anywhere.

• A wireless smart meat thermometer. Perfectly cooked meats, no guessing required.

PS: If you enjoy my shopping content, add me to your “circle” on ShopMy to stay connected between weekly posts.

Parenting & Family Life

We celebrated both Mother’s Day and my son’s third birthday this month.

His birthday request was surprisingly specific:

“A band.”

Not a bounce house.
Not a superhero.
Not a petting zoo.

A band.

And honestly, I respect the vision.

We delivered with local legends, The Garbage Men—a musical group dedicated to sustainability whose instruments are made entirely from found objects and recycled materials.

In other words, they make music from trash.

And they truly sound fantastic—we first discovered them performing at one of our favorite local restaurants.

For a three-year-old whose greatest passions are currently live music and waste management, this was basically Coachella.

Watching him dance with his friends while a band played instruments made from recycled objects felt like one of those parenting moments I’ll remember forever.

Every year, I’ve taken Mother’s Day photos with my son. He remains cooperative (for now) and I cherish the images.

My husband is talented at many things, but taking flattering photos of me is not one of them. Never have I ever regretted professional photos.

My dress is no longer available, but L’s sweater is.

Fitness, Health, & Wellness

If I’m being honest, May wasn’t a particularly ambitious fitness month.

I got in plenty of walks and a handful of lifting sessions, but otherwise I don’t feel especially accomplished.

One goal I didn’t meet was getting back into the pool.

I swam fairly consistently last summer, and I’ve been trying to rebuild that habit.

So I’m keeping my June goal simple: Swim.

Community & Connection

Two posts generated a surprising amount of conversation this month: my Nurses Week essay and my piece about the cost of saying yes—and no.

What surprised me most was hearing from so many male readers. (Hey, guys!)

I originally wrote the second piece through the lens of women’s experiences, but many of the messages I received echoed the same themes: obligation, overcommitment, identity, and the challenge of deciding where our energy actually belongs.

It’s a good reminder that while our circumstances may differ, many of us are wrestling with the same questions.

I also know we’re all feeling the aftermath of what has become known as Maycember.

Even as a mom without a school-aged child, working in higher education comes with its own version of seasonal chaos.

Graduation events.
Board exam preparation.
Hospital onboarding paperwork.
Faculty training requirements.
Annual evaluations.
Summer semester planning.

And unlike the popular stereotype, most nursing and health sciences faculty don’t simply disappear for the summer. We simply… keep going.

Thankfully, we have a trip coming up at the end of June, and I cannot adequately describe how excited I am for two uninterrupted weeks of PTO.

Healthcare & Academia

A few of my doctoral students are graduating this summer, and we’re currently preparing their manuscripts for publication.

At the same time, I have another manuscript under review.

Research and publication often seem mysterious from the outside, but the reality is that every published paper represents months—or sometimes years—of work, revisions, reviewer feedback, rewrites, and persistence.

For those who enjoy the evidence side of healthcare and academia, I wrote about what it actually takes to get a scholarly paper published.

The process is far more complicated than people imagine (if you imagine these sorts of things) and far more collaborative.

Closing Thoughts

May wasn’t particularly glamorous.

There were no major milestones.

No dramatic transformations.

No breakthrough moments.

Just a lot of ordinary life.

Family celebrations.

Meaningful work.

Good conversations.

Long walks.

Birthday cake.

And a continued appreciation for the fact that a meaningful life is usually built from ordinary days stacked on top of one another.

As we head into June, I’m looking forward to slower mornings, time away, more swimming, and hopefully a little less “May”hem.

Until then…

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In case you missed it, you can read last month’s reflection here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

There is always more out there to be had—but every yes includes saying no to something else.

I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Because if I’m honest, this is the conversation underneath almost every conversation ambitious couples have.

Not:
“Should I take this opportunity?”

But:
“What will this opportunity cost us?”

That feels very different.

And strangely, nobody really prepares you for this part.

Not the part where both people are ambitious.
Not the part where both careers matter deeply.
Not the part where opportunities start arriving faster than your life can comfortably hold them.

When you’re younger, ambition feels exciting and expansive.

Say yes.
Work hard.
Keep going.
Build the life.

And for a while, that strategy works beautifully.

Until one day you look around and realize:
the opportunities are no longer theoretical.

They’re logistical.

Real calendars.
Real travel.
Real childcare.
Real exhaustion.
Real trade-offs.

And suddenly your marriage isn’t operating in the realm of abstract “support.”

It’s operating in the realm of:
Who’s picking up the pieces while the other person says yes?

That’s the part people don’t talk about enough.

When my husband and I first met, we were both still becoming who we are now.

I was finishing nursing school.
He was in medical school.

Back then, ambition mostly looked like survival.

Pass the exam.
Get through clinicals.
Figure out where we’re moving next.

There was comfort in having a shared direction, even when life felt chaotic.

But somewhere between training and adulthood, the stakes changed.

The opportunities became bigger.
And more personal.

Leadership roles.
Speaking invitations.
Career pivots.
Projects with real visibility.
The kinds of opportunities younger versions of ourselves would have immediately said yes to without hesitation.

But adulthood complicates ambition in ways achievement culture rarely acknowledges.

Because eventually, every yes touches the household.

A yes to travel means somebody else handles more at home.

A yes to a major professional season often means the other person temporarily absorbs more emotional labor, scheduling labor, or parenting labor.

A yes to one thing quietly becomes a no to something else:
Rest.
Margin.
Time together.
Creative energy.
Simplicity.

None of this means ambitious women should shrink themselves.

And it definitely doesn’t mean ambitious couples are doomed.

But I do think sustainable ambition requires a skill most high-achieving people were never taught:

How to strategically say no.

This has probably been one of the hardest mindset shifts for me professionally.

Because achievement-oriented people tend to believe opportunities are inherently good.

If something is impressive enough, meaningful enough, or validating enough, we assume we should take it.

Especially women.

Especially women who worked extremely hard to earn access to certain rooms.

The fear is subtle but real:
What if the opportunity doesn’t come back?

So we overcommit.

We stretch.

We squeeze meaningful lives into increasingly unsustainable shapes.

And for a while, it even looks successful from the outside.

Until everything starts feeling like performance optimization instead of actual living.

I’ve had seasons where I could feel this happening in real time.

Not burnout exactly.

Just… compression.

Like every inch of life had become accounted for.

And I think ambitious couples are uniquely vulnerable to this because both people often understand—and validate—the drive.

Nobody is necessarily telling you to slow down.

So you have to learn how to do it yourselves.

Together.

One thing that has helped us enormously is realizing that careers move in seasons.

This sounds obvious, but emotionally, it’s harder than it sounds.

Because equality inside a relationship does not always look like simultaneity.

Sometimes one person is in an especially demanding growth season.

Sometimes the other person is.

Sometimes one career requires more flexibility for six months. Or a year. Or longer.

The key, I think, is whether the relationship still feels fundamentally reciprocal over time.

Not transactional.
Not score-kept.
Not “who sacrificed more.”

Just mutually invested.

That distinction matters so much.

Because resentment usually doesn’t grow from sacrifice itself.

It grows from sacrifice feeling unseen.
Unreciprocated.
Or endless.

And truthfully? I think many ambitious women are carrying more of this than they admit out loud.

Lately, before saying yes to something major, I’ve started asking myself a different set of questions.

Not:
“Would this be good for my career?”

But:

Will this make our actual life better?
What does this require from him?
What does this require from me?
What are we saying no to if I say yes?
Would I still want this if nobody else was impressed by it?

That last question in particular has clarified a lot.

Because not every shiny opportunity is aligned.

Some opportunities feed ego.
Some feed purpose.
Some quietly drain both.

And the older I get, the more I realize there will always be another opportunity.

Another project.
Another invitation.
Another rung on the ladder.

But there is not unlimited time.

There is not unlimited energy.

And there is definitely not unlimited attention.

At some point, every ambitious person has to decide:
What kind of life am I actually trying to build?

Not just professionally.

Holistically.

Relationally.

Personally.

Because success becomes strangely hollow if your life only works on paper.

I still believe deeply in ambition.

I believe in meaningful work.
I believe in growth.
I believe in pursuing things that stretch you intellectually and professionally.

But I no longer believe the goal is maximizing every possible opportunity.

I think the goal is building a life where ambition can coexist with connection, health, rest, family, creativity, and joy.

And that requires discernment.

Not every door needs to be walked through.

Not every opportunity belongs to this season.

Sometimes the wisest thing two ambitious people can say together is:

Not right now.

And sometimes that decision—the one nobody applauds publicly—is the exact thing protecting the life you actually want.

The Edit is a curated look at what I’m using, loving, and restocking—thoughtful selections that support consistency, ease, and real life (not just special occasions). Think of it as my running list of tried-and-trusted essentials or items that make my day-to-day life feel a little more seamless.

I’ve had a hard time feeling motivated to get dressed lately—it’s probably the 90+ degree temperatures we’re already enduring down here—but the right skirt and a white top never fails me. I love a blue and white stripe moment (high / low) or an all white skirt (high / low). Pair it with something extra feminine, something fresh and chic, something ruffled, something tuckable, or something lace, and I instantly look (and feel) like I tried way harder than I actually did. A timeless, ivory sandal and a pop of chartreuse complete the look.

And if skirts aren’t your thing—or you can’t even muster the energy to style two separate pieces—I’m equally loyal to the dress version (high / low).

Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

Staying Well is a recurring series that explores the everyday rituals and rhythms that help us feel more grounded, nourished, and whole. In case you missed it, you can read previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

I shop sales differently than I used to.

A few years ago, I would have approached MDW sales with urgency—adding things to cart because they were marked down, convincing myself I needed trend pieces that would inevitably end up abandoned in the back of my closet. Now I’m much more interested in longevity. I want clothes that feel like extensions of my life as it actually exists: comfortable, polished, versatile, wearable at almost any hour, and still appropriate at dinner.

So instead of a giant list of random markdowns, these are the brands and pieces I’m actually paying attention to this weekend.

Rails (30% off with code MDW2026)

I always come back to Rails when I want pieces that feel effortless without looking sloppy. Their fabrics are soft in a way that somehow still looks structured, and almost everything works for the Florida heat without sacrificing polish.

This weekend I’m eyeing:

• Lightweight button-downs

• “Going Out Tops” (but for day dates because I haven’t gone out since 2015)

• Easy dresses that can work for both travel and everyday wear

• Elevated basics I can throw on after workouts or pool days

Rails is one of those brands that consistently understands the assignment for women balancing comfort with wanting to still feel put together.

Beyond Yoga

I’ve become increasingly selective about activewear because I wear it constantly—not just for workouts, but for writing days, errand runs, walks, and rest days.

Beyond Yoga continues to be one of the few brands I reach for repeatedly because the fabric actually stays comfortable all day. Not “compression until you can’t breathe” comfortable. Actually comfortable.

This weekend I’m eyeing:

• Matching leggings and tanks

• This tennis dress

• Bike shorts and tanks for summer

• This jacket was my entire winter personality

As someone who spends a lot of time moving between work, motherhood, fitness, and home life, I appreciate clothes that transition with me instead of requiring a full outfit change three times a day.

Rag & Bone

Rag & Bone is where I tend to look when I want wardrobe anchors—the pieces that make everything else feel more intentional.

Their poplin button-downs have consistently been worth the investment for me, especially because I need pieces that can handle long days without becoming uncomfortable halfway through.

This weekend I’m eyeing:

• Neutral knits

• Structured basics

• Simple summer dresses

I’m less interested in statement items these days and more interested in clothes that make getting dressed feel uncomplicated.

Hill House (20% off select styles with code EXTRA20)

Hillhouse always feels like summer on the East Coast in the best possible way. Polished without trying too hard. Classic without feeling overly traditional.

This weekend I’m eyeing:

• The perfect dress for summer gatherings… so many beautiful patterns are included in the sale!

• The cutest eyelet shorts for poolside lunches

• Easy dresses that still feel special

I’m especially watching their print styles this weekend. They strike that balance between fun and wearable that’s surprisingly difficult to find.

Veronica Beard (extra 25% off sale with code MAY2026)

Veronica Beard is one of my favorite brands for pieces that make me feel instantly more pulled together, especially during seasons where life feels chaotic.

Their tailoring is consistently strong, but what I appreciate most is how wearable their pieces are. Nothing feels overly precious. It’s clothing designed for women who actually have somewhere to be.

This weekend I’m eyeing:

• Party pants

• Lightweight summer shirt dresses

• Mini dresses that could work for both meetings and dinners

There’s something reassuring about having a few reliable pieces in your closet that make you feel like yourself immediately.

Aureum

Aureum makes the kind of accessories that transform an outfit without overpowering it. Their belts are polished, substantial, and simple in a way that makes everything else look more intentional.

I’ve realized lately that a great belt does more for an outfit than almost anything else in my closet. I’ve invested in three of their belts over the last year alone. When shopping for a belt, think about the hardware color(s) on the purses and shoes you already own to maximize wearability.

This weekend I’m eyeing:

• The No. 2

• The No. 4

• The No. 10

• The No. 15

On Shopping More Intentionally

I’ve noticed that my relationship with shopping has changed alongside motherhood, career growth, and simply getting older. I don’t want a closet crammed with options anymore. I want fewer things that genuinely work.

That means:

• Buying for the life I actually live

• Prioritizing comfort and fit

• Investing in versatility

• Choosing pieces I know I’ll actually wear

Sales can create pressure to buy quickly, but I’ve learned that the best purchases are usually the ones that feel obvious—not forced.

Happy shopping! Or restraining…

—CC

If this resonated with you, you might also be interested in the broader theme behind Plan of Care: thinking about our careers, families, and wellbeing with the same intentionality we bring to the people we care for. You can read some of my most popular previous features here:

Thank you for being here and for supporting this work—and special thanks to my paid subscribers.

Plan of Care is a newsletter on wellness, purpose, professional identity, and reducing the mental load of modern life. If this mission resonates with you, I’d love for you to become a Paid Subscriber.

Paid subscribers receive:

• Exclusive Content on professional development, mentorship, and navigating meaningful work

• Bonus Posts, like this deep dive into meal prep and this travel guide to Harbour Island

• My gratitude—your support makes this writing possible and sustainable

Upgrade subscription

And if you found this post meaningful, please share it with a friend so more people can find it too.

Share

A final note: Some links in this post are affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you choose to purchase through them—at no additional cost to you. I only share products I personally use, love, or would confidently recommend.

But behind that competence is often someone actively learning how to protect her own humanity in the middle of work that could easily consume it.

That’s what I kept thinking about while talking with Catherine.

A nurse practitioner, educator, and leader in cardio-obstetrics, Cat has built a career centered around meaningful impact—not just achievement for achievement’s sake. What stood out most in our conversation wasn’t only her professional success, but the intentionality behind it: the boundaries, perspective shifts, and ordinary rituals that help her sustain a full life alongside important work.

In this edition of In Practice, Cat shares what success looks like in this season of life, why she no longer measures herself by a completed to-do list, and the surprisingly practical wisdom of remembering that not every problem is an emergency.

Catherine is a nurse practitioner and educator based in Tampa. She currently serves as an Assistant Professor and Family Nurse Practitioner Program Director at the University of South Florida and leads the Healthy Hearts program, a nurse-led cardio-obstetrics clinic focused on long-term cardiovascular health after pregnancy.

With more than nine years of experience as a nurse practitioner, Catherine is known for her curiosity, reflective nature, and quiet determination. Outside of work, she’s a devoted dog mom to her adopted greyhound, a gardener, a Montréal Canadiens fan, and someone who makes a mean at-home iced caramel macchiato. Most days, she’s happiest outside after a long day of work.

In this interview, Cat shares how she defines success in this season of life, what she’s learned about building meaningful work while protecting space for the rest of life, and the small strategies she returns to when things get especially full.

What does “success” look like for you right now?

Right now, success looks like tackling my inbox, finishing grading or peer reviews, making progress on scholarship, and staying on top of timelines for work projects—while still having evenings and weekends free to relax or try something new.

On a bigger level, professionally speaking, success means building work that actually matters and has a positive impact. A large part of my career focuses on developing programs that improve cardiovascular risk stratification, prevention, and long-term care for women. Seeing those programs grow and reach more patients feels meaningful in a way that traditional metrics sometimes don’t fully capture.

Describe a typical day—or an ideal one.

My typical day depends on whether I’m in clinic or teaching.

It usually starts with a full glass of water that I make myself drink before coffee, a quick look at meetings for the day, and identifying the blocks of time where I can actually be productive between meetings. In between, I’ll take Harrison out for a walk or stretch my legs in the backyard while checking on my plants.

I try to keep my schedule mostly within 9–5 hours, but academia can be unpredictable. Some nights I teach until 9 p.m., while clinic days start early and wrap up earlier. After work, I’ll usually try to squeeze in a quick home workout before dinner. Then it’s an evening walk with Harrison, catching up with family or friends, and usually TV before bed.

An ideal day? Sleeping in—especially on rainy mornings—followed by a sunny, breezy afternoon, a bike ride, ice cream, good food with family or friends, good conversations, lots of laughs, and restful sleep.

What’s one piece of career or life advice that actually holds up in real life?

You don’t—and shouldn’t—say yes to everything or everyone all the time.

What’s something you’ve had to unlearn to thrive?

I had to unlearn the idea that I needed to finish my entire to-do list before I could rest or feel like I’d done enough for the day.

Before academia, I worked in clinical settings where once the shift was over, the work was done. In academia, I have four notebooks, a desk calendar, Outlook, and my notes app—all full of tasks.

Early in my career, a mentor told me not to rely on completing my entire list to feel “done.” As long as the important tasks for that day were completed, it was okay if everything else waited.

That advice completely changed my mindset. It allows me to actually rest when I’m “off” without feeling too guilty about not being “done.”

How do you take care of yourself while showing up for others?

Boundaries.

We teach patients to take their health seriously so they can live long, meaningful lives and be there for the people who depend on them. But in my experience, nurses are often the worst at doing this for ourselves.

Healthcare culture sometimes treats exhaustion like a badge of honor—the classic story of someone being too busy to even take a bathroom break.

Setting boundaries takes practice. For many of us, it takes getting close to burnout before we truly protect our time.

For me, that means things like not answering emails after work, staying hydrated, stepping outside for five minutes of sunshine, or moving around if I’ve been sitting all day. Sometimes it means screening calls or not responding to a message right away. And occasionally it means ice cream and a brownie for dinner after a particularly long day.

Favorite ritual that helps you feel grounded?

Walking.

I walk as often as I can. I need the fresh air and the time to think through my day in the morning and decompress from it at night.

I also use Tempo for home workouts—a mix of strength training, cardio, mobility, or Pilates depending on the day.

A lot of my walks double as catch-up time with family and friends too.

What’s a recent win, personal or professional, that made you proud?

Recently, I was recognized as a Fellow of the American Association of Nurse Practitioners (FAANP). The fellowship is a national recognition awarded to nurse practitioners who have made sustained contributions to the profession and to improving patient care. The application process is rigorous and heavily focused on demonstrated, measurable impact.

One unexpected part of the process was how reflective it was. Because the application requires you to document and quantify the impact of your work, it really forced me to pause and look back at what I’ve built and contributed since starting my career as an NP in 2017.

By the end of the process, I felt genuinely proud of what I had accomplished so far. Being selected for the fellowship felt like validation of the work I’ve been doing.

I’m looking forward to the induction ceremony and the opportunity to connect with other fellows doing impactful work across the country.

What’s one strategy or mindset shift you return to when life gets chaotic?

I remind myself that whatever is causing the chaos is usually not life-threatening.

Having worked in higher-acuity healthcare settings—and now caring for patients who are often navigating serious challenges like housing instability, domestic violence, food insecurity, alongside acute and chronic health conditions—helps keep things in perspective.

That doesn’t mean my stress isn’t real, but it helps me zoom out and keep it in context.

My Takeaways

What stayed with me most after this conversation was Cat’s perspective on scale: the ability to care deeply about meaningful work without allowing work to become the entire measure of a life.

In healthcare and academia especially, there’s constant pressure to produce more, achieve more, and prove your value through exhaustion. Cat’s reflections offer something quieter and more sustainable… a reminder that impact matters, but so do evenings off, walks outside, unanswered emails, laughter with friends, and the ability to rest without earning it first.

There’s wisdom in building a career you’re proud of.
There’s equal wisdom in building a life that can hold it.

The Edit is a curated look at what I’m using, loving, and restocking—thoughtful selections that support consistency, ease, and real life (not just special occasions). Think of it as my running list of tried-and-trusted essentials or items that make my day-to-day life feel a little more seamless.

Here are five things I’ve been loving this week…

This detox shampoo that makes my hair feel actually clean without stripping it

The eye-catching patterns of this dress and this dress make perfect choices for hot summer outings… and both are on sale for under $100

This roll-on depuffer that helps me look way more awake than I feel

These pull-on shorts (because Florida is already too hot for pull on pants), and

This personality bag… but make it a beach tote

In addition to these five new recommendations, I saw that my favorite one piece swimsuit that I mentioned in What to Wear on a Beach Vacation (without overpacking) is on major sale!

That’s all for now!
Be good people. Do good things.

—CC

In Practice is a recurring interview series highlighting how multidimensional women live their values across career and life. In case you missed it, you can check out previous features here:

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Your badge still looks freshly printed.
You’re triple-checking where supplies are kept.
You rehearse what you’re going to say before calling a consultant.
You hope nobody notices your hands shaking while logging into the computer.

And if you’re young, female, or look younger than you are, there’s another layer to it entirely.

Patients look past you for “the real [insert professional healthcare title].”
Families assume you’re a student.
Someone eventually asks, with varying levels of concern:

“How old are you?”

Meanwhile, you’re expected to coordinate care, catch subtle changes before anyone else does, communicate clearly under pressure, and make decisions that actually matter.

No one says it out loud, but the internal monologue is usually something like:

Please let me look like I know what I’m doing today.

I think about this a lot now, years into my career, because the strange thing is that confidence in healthcare rarely arrives the way people think it will.

There’s no moment where you suddenly feel fully ready.

You just slowly realize that many of the people who looked confident early on were simply tolerating uncertainty better than everyone else.

That’s it.

Not omniscience.
Not fearlessness.
Not perfection.

Just the ability to stay steady while figuring out the next right thing.

That realization changed everything for me.

Competence Is Usually Quieter Than You Think

One of the biggest misconceptions in medicine and nursing is that competent people always sound certain.

They don’t.

The clinicians I trust most are often the ones saying:

“Let me double check that.”

“I want to verify the latest guidelines before we move forward.”

“I’d like another set of eyes on this.”

Early in my career, I thought confidence meant having immediate answers. Now I think it’s much more about judgment.

Knowing when to escalate.
Knowing when to pause.
Knowing when something feels off.
Knowing what can’t wait.

Patients are not safest with the loudest clinician in the room.

They’re safest with the one who stays thoughtful when things get complicated.

False confidence is dangerous.
Professional curiosity is not.

Your Presence Walks Into the Room Before You Do

Nobody tells you how much of healthcare delivery is nonverbal.

People decide whether they trust you before you finish your first sentence.

Not because healthcare should work that way—but because humans do.

I learned early that nervous energy speeds everything up:
your voice,
your movements,
your explanations,
your breathing.

So sometimes confidence looks incredibly simple.

Slowing down before speaking.
Standing still instead of fidgeting.
Letting silence exist for two seconds longer than feels comfortable.

The newer you are, the more tempting it is to over-explain yourself.

But calmness reads as credibility.

Not coldness.
Not arrogance.
Just steadiness.

Especially in high-acuity environments, people borrow regulation from each other constantly. Patients do it. Families do it. Teams do it too.

Women in Healthcare Are Often Socialized to Shrink Themselves

This part is harder to talk about honestly.

Read more