The Time is Now. 2026.
No good decision I’ve ever made was made quickly.
In fact, my worst decisions came when I felt rushed, pressured, or didn’t give myself the time and space I deserved to understand how I actually felt.
Let me slow this down—drawing from my missteps, my own therapy, the clinical work I’m privileged to do, and my psychedelic journeys.
Decisions deserve to be approached from many perspectives. But the one I overlooked most in my youth was how something made me feel.
Not whether it was logical.
Not whether someone else thought it made sense.
Not whether I was emboldened by naïveté.
But the felt sense.
Because I am the one who wakes up and goes to sleep inside my decisions. My nervous system has to adapt to them, absorb them, live with them.
For a long time, I ignored the truth that the key to good choices lives within us. Our bodies keep the score. Our job is to slow down long enough to listen.
Over time, I’ve learned to tune into the meaning and impact of my choices—and to respect their weight. I’ve also learned that while closing your eyes, crossing your fingers, and jumping sounds exciting, it’s rarely the answer.
Unless, of course, you’re jumping off a high rock into a lake—or out of a plane.
So how do we make deep, intuitive choices?
What rules do I follow now—as an older, hopefully wiser human?
What have I learned?
I am less impulsive. I spend time with people before deciding how close they should be to me.
I try not to take things personally. People behave the way they do because of who they are—not because of who I am. Even when I’m impacted, it’s usually about them—not me.
I believe what people do, not what they say. Words are easy and abundant. Behavior is the real tell. Consistency is dependable. Without it, words aren’t enough.
If I feel connected to someone and want them in my life, I let them know. Not necessarily every day—but I let them know they’re in my thoughts in a meaningful way.
I have a spiritual practice. I believe the world is bigger than me. I lean into mysticism. I read tarot cards and have them read. I have a healer. I’ve spoken with a psychic. I believe in science and humanity—with a dash of witch.
I’m more discerning with what I give away emotionally. More measured about who receives my attention and care. I often say to my patients: Be selective with your affection. Make sure you’re receiving as much as you’re giving.
I put my children ahead of all other things.
I also put myself pretty high on the list.
I’ve made my work my passion—and loving what you do is priceless.
I have a coven of people who serve as my floor when I need grounding and centering. I’m lucky.
What I’m planning for 2026:
I’m building a sauna and a cold plunge. I want one—and so does my family. (Side note: I kind of want to go over the top on this- tbd. In a past life, I was an architect and a contractor.)
I’m going to travel as much as possible.
I changed my hot yoga membership from monthly to annual.
I’ll try not to define myself by productivity.
I’ll continue to define myself by presence—and by living in the moment.
I’m not waiting for the next chapter to begin living.
In my last psychedelic journey, I was in an incredible palatial castle—filled with textures, colors, and every person who has mattered to me. I floated around in a boat, watching the party that was my life. Enjoying it. But also observing it.
Then there was a clear voice. A push.
Get out of the boat.
You’ve done the work.
The life is built.
Now stop preparing—and start living.
So as we enter 2026, ask yourself:
Are you watching from the boat—or are you at the party?
I think we all know the better place to be.
Who’s coming to the party with me?
Xxxx
Happy New Year.
Dr. D
Get to KnowDr. Danielle Shelov
Dr. Shelov's therapeutic approach emphasizes understanding individuals within the context of their families, childhood experiences, relationships, and larger systems as crucial to psychological treatment.
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