June 2026 actually started off pretty good.
Work was going well. My body and mind were crackling with energy and enthusiasm. It felt like I was finally getting into an even stronger groove after a long, cold, snowy winter and a cool spring. Then, somewhere around the middle of the month, it was like someone flipped a switch.
The weather turned into this never-ending stretch of gray skies. The kind where you keep thinking, “Okay, tomorrow has to be sunny, right?”
But nope. Just more clouds. The weather was warm enough, but the incessant gray was starting to put me in a bad mood. Then all the little stuff started piling up.
The water pump needed replacing, which somehow turned a normal morning into a weird back-to-150-years-ago camping situation. Old family stuff popped back up out of nowhere, bringing along feelings I really didn’t feel like dealing with again. I had an ear infection.
There were days when my brain just felt… off. I still got my work done, but it took way more effort than usual. By the afternoon, I was wiped. I also ended up eating out way more than I wanted to because, honestly, I just didn’t have the energy to make anything at home. Which, in the long run, makes things worse especially when the credit card bill arrives in your inbox. I also engaged in my killer: night and emotional eating.
None of these things was a huge deal on their own. But one right after the other?
Yeah, they added up. I think that’s how a lot of tough months go. It’s usually not one big disaster. It’s more like a bunch of small things slowly wearing you down.
Then one day near the end of the month, you wake up and realize you’re carrying around this weight that wasn’t there before.
And you’re like, “Wait… what happened?”
Something I’ve learned over time but still have trouble fully applying: When a month like that hits, don’t try to fix everything all at once.
Don’t turn July 1 into the day you suddenly become a marathon runner, lose twenty pounds, reorganize your whole house, read for an hour every morning, and cook every meal from scratch. That usually doesn’t end well.
Recovery isn’t some big, dramatic thing. It’s actually pretty simple. Go to bed earlier and don’t spend the evening scrolling when you could and should be sleeping. And you know what? Sleep in on a Saturday or Sunday morning despite the so-called experts saying you should get up at the same time every day – even weekends – because sometimes that is what your body and especially your mind is desperate for. Believe me, many, many times I’ve ignored the “expert” advice, woken up at 10 a.m. on a weekend morning, and felt like a new man. The other day, I went to bed at 8 p.m. and woke up at 7 a.m., sleeping right through. The experts say that I had too much sleep but I felt so much better. I did that Saturday night too, and lo and behold, as I write this on Sunday, I feel better. It was a lesson I should have applied long ago – go to bed earlier, you are not a kid anymore.
Drink plenty of water. Cook one decent and healthy meal. Don’t eat too much. Take a nice walk on a trail or, if no trails are nearby, on the sidewalk. Read something uplifting – not a whole book, just a chapter.
If you’re lucky enough to live beside water as I do, just sit and watch it for 30 minutes (no scrolling or checking emails) without trying to solve everything in your head.
None of that will magically erase a rough month. But it helps little by little.
I also think we don’t give enough credit to emotional fatigue. If someone spent ten hours digging a ditch, nobody would expect them to jump out of bed the next day, excited to do it again.
But emotionally, we kind of expect that from ourselves. And sometimes… we just can’t.
Sometimes your brain just needs quiet. A few days where little or nothing is happening.
I’ve also learned that beating yourself up doesn’t help. Trust me, I’ve beaten myself up more times than I can count because, although it is much better than it used to be, I tend to think in black and white.
“I should’ve eaten better.”
“I should’ve worked out more.”
“I should’ve handled that differently.”
Maybe. But going over that stuff again and again doesn’t give you more energy. It just drains what little you’ve got left. As one professional golfer told me during my interview with him: “Regrets are a waste of time.”
Funny enough, creativity works the same way. Some weeks, ideas come faster than I can write them down. Other weeks, I’m just staring at a blank page, wondering if I’ve run out of things to say (even though I know I haven’t).
Then out of nowhere, an idea shows up while I’m walking, sitting by the lake, or just watching people go about their day. It turns out the well wasn’t empty; it was just refilling and I have to let it happen.
Maybe we’re like that, too. Sometimes the most productive thing we can do is just recover.
Maybe that’s what the second half of June was trying to teach me: Not every month (or half of a month) is meant to be a big win. I love to use the golf illustrations: one week, a player will win the tournament by five strokes; the next two weeks, he finishes T23 and T9. Decent finishes, but not exactly highlight reel finishes.
Old and painful memories fade again and the sun eventually comes back out. As I write this on a Sunday morning (June 28), the temperature is already over 80 degrees and there is not a cloud in the sky for the second day in a row.
And one morning you wake up, pour yourself a coffee, and realize something you didn’t notice before. “I think I’m starting to feel like myself again.”
johnberkovich.com 