BACK TO THE PRESENT
We’re all time travelers. We visit the past every time we say ‘I should have,’ and we spiral into the future with every ‘what if.’ But just like in Back to the Future, time travel doesn’t fix your life—it usually just messes things up. The power isn’t back then or out there. It’s right here. Right now.
“Back To The Future” taught me to stop time traveling - And start living now
Growing up, I absolutely loved Back to the Future. And I’m not alone. That movie hit something deep in a lot of us.
There’s something captivating about the idea of going back in time. Marty McFly does it—and nearly erases himself from existence. Then Biff grabs that sports almanac and completely screws up the timeline.
The message? Time travel doesn’t fix your life. It usually makes it worse.
Still, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t fantasized about what real time travel would be like.
Going back to see Babe Ruth play. Going forward to see flying cars. Then I realized something…
We time travel constantly
Not with a DeLorean, but with our thoughts.
Every time we say “What if…”, we launch into a future we made up:
What if I run out of money?
What if my marriage falls apart?
What if I write that book and everyone hates it?
And since your subconscious doesn’t know the difference between imagination and reality, these thoughts start to feel real.
You are what you think.
Sad stories become self-fulfilling prophecies.
If you constantly feed your mind doubt and dread—that’s the future you’ll project.
Instead, feed it discipline & determination. Because just like Biff with that betting book, you have the power to shape the outcome. You already hold the playbook.
Now let’s talk about time traveling to the past…
This one’s sneaky. It sounds like this
“I should have…”
“Why didn’t I…”
“I can’t believe I let that happen.”
You revisit past pain like it’s a movie on repeat. You re-live it. You re-feel it. You re-activate the pain. And the more you associate into that suffering, the more likely you are to carry it into your present—and your future.
Stay in the present.
You. Are. Fine. Right. Now. Your future is just a stack of “right nows.” And every time you leave the present, you cut yourself off from your power to shape it.
The next step isn’t found in the past.
It’s not hidden in the future.
It’s right here—waiting for you to slow down, breathe, and take it.
A Simple Shift That Helped Me
As an empath, I used to overanalyze everything. I’d beat myself up over the past.
And obsess over whether the future would be okay.
Even as a kid, I was worrying about whether I’d meet the right person or have a family.
My mind always had something to be anxious about.
I eventually learned to observe the loop. To pause the tape. To remind myself that in this moment, I’m just… here. And from here, I can breathe. I can choose. I can heal.
Want to Go Deeper?
If this resonates with you—and you’ve noticed yourself time traveling into anxiety, guilt, or burnout…
Take my free Core Emotional Needs Survey.
It will help you identify the deep, often unconscious emotional need that’s quietly driving your patterns.
👉 www.richsiropcoaching.com/cen
Because when you understand your emotional blueprint, it’s easier to stop time traveling—and start living fully, right now.
Emotional Traffic Jams - What's Really Blocking You
"Your mind is a freeway. Not every thought deserves a lane."
I used to commute from New Jersey to New York City. On a good day, it would take 45 minutes. On a bad day? Three hours. And on one particularly painful day, it took me three and a half hours to travel just 32 miles.
Sitting in that car, inching forward at a glacial pace, I’d spiral.
I should’ve left earlier. Why didn’t I take the train? Why didn’t I drive yesterday instead? Why do I even live in such a crowded area?
Eventually, I’d surrender—not to peace, but to misery. I’d go numb. By the time I parked and stepped out, I could barely move my legs.
And yet... that traffic jam taught me something.
That’s exactly what emotional overwhelm feels like.
The Mental Freeway
Imagine your mind as a freeway. Every thought, responsibility, regret, or fear is another car you’re letting onto that road.
The promotion you didn’t get? That’s one car.
Listening to your friend vent about their partner? Another car.
Your bank account balance? Car.
That book you’ve been meaning to write? Yep—add it to the freeway.
Your inner critic whispering you’re not enough or you’re behind? That’s a whole convoy.
It’s no wonder we get stuck. Just like real traffic, if you flood the highway with too many cars, everything slows down—sometimes to a dead stop.
The Exit Strategy
Here’s the thing: not every car needs to be on your road.
Next time you find yourself looping on a negative thought—or worrying about something from the past or future that’s totally out of your control—try this:
Visualize it as a car. Then picture it taking the next exit.
Seriously. That thought?
→ Off the freeway.
That person’s drama that’s not your responsibility?
→ Exit ramp.
That guilt you’ve been dragging from something you can’t change?
→ Gone.
You’ll never eliminate traffic completely—but you can control what gets to ride with you.
What Cars Do You Want on Your Road?
Not every thought deserves your energy. Choose which cars you let on your mental freeway.
Your kids’ happiness? Green light.
Taking care of your mental and physical health? Let it through.
Moments of joy, creativity, connection? That’s the good traffic.
Everything else? Let it take the bus.
If your inner freeway is too jammed to see the exits, coaching can help you clear the road.
Take the free Core Emotional Needs Assessment or book a free session and let’s start clearing space for the things that matter.
The Ultimate “F” Word
Sometimes the path to healing begins at the mouth of the cave we fear the most. Fear loses its power the moment we shine a light on it.
People throw around what we traditionally consider the “F word” in public like it's no big deal—at baseball games, at the beach, in grocery store aisles. We say it casually, loudly, even around children and elders. There’s no hesitation, no fear.
That’s the actual “F” word we avoid involves our real fears.
Fear has become completely forbidden. We don’t talk about it, and often, we won’t even admit it to ourselves.
So let’s talk about it.
For me, fear often wears one mask: rejection. I’m afraid of giving something my all and realizing it wasn’t enough. I’m afraid that if you see who I really am and walk away, it’ll confirm every childhood wound I’ve carried—like when my fourth-grade teacher told me I was a terrible artist, or when I didn’t make the first college baseball team I tried out for. Or that middle school dance where I stood frozen, afraid to ask anyone to dance.
I’m sorry if all this “F word” talk makes you uncomfortable. But maybe it’s time we get uncomfortable—because silence is what makes fear grow. Left unspoken, it starts running the show behind the scenes, influencing every decision we make.
But fear doesn’t stand alone. It usually brings a friend: shame.
Shame tells us we’re the only ones who’ve failed, who’ve felt rejected, who’ve messed up. It paralyzes us and silences our vulnerability. The antidote to shame is not strength—it’s normalizing discomfort. When we talk about our fears, our mistakes, our longing to grow, we loosen shame’s grip.
And here’s where my favorite “A word” comes in: Action.
Not just any action—courageous action. I often talk about building your “action muscles.” When you act in spite of fear, when you accept that rejection is part of the process, you grow stronger. You stop trying to prove you’re enough and start living like you are. That’s the difference between showing off and showing up.
But fear—left unchecked—turns into procrastination. Into inaction. And we unknowingly pass it down through how we manage, parent, and interact. I know I have. As a producer in creative meetings, I didn’t always listen. Sometimes I judged too quickly. Instead of being present, I was already rewriting the pitch in my head. That behavior kills creativity.
Now, as a coach, my job is to hold space, not fill it. I ask questions instead of giving answers. I help my clients discover their own wisdom. When you truly listen to someone, without needing to be right or impressive, they open up. That’s where the transformation happens.
So how do we begin to rewrite our relationship with fear and shame?
3 Ways to Overcome Fear and Shame
1. Be Imperfect
I have a YouTube series called Imperfect Friday where I share messy, real-life moments. Why? Because perfectionism is just protectionism—it’s a shield to avoid being seen and judged. But growth doesn’t come from hiding. It comes from showing up, flaws and all.
2. Talk About It
If something scares you, speak it. Write it in your journal. Say it to a friend. The treasure we seek is often in the cave we fear most. And the moment you name your fear, you shrink its power.
3. Listen Without Armor
Practice being fully present with someone. Not to fix. Not to advise. Just to hear them. When you hold space for others, you teach your nervous system it’s safe to be vulnerable too. That’s when real connection—and healing—happens.
The next time fear whispers that you’re not enough, light your lantern, step into the cave, and remember - you’re not alone, and you’re braver than you think.
The Most Important Moment Of Your Life Is Right Now
Let go of the past and embrace the power of now. Your future starts in this moment.
For a big portion of my life, I was what I called a "looper." Something bad or embarrassing would happen — something I did, or something someone did to me — and I would replay it in my mind endlessly. Over and over. A memory that should have been a moment would become a prison.
I remember one moment vividly.
I had been working incredibly hard on a TV show, getting a lot of praise behind the scenes from my boss. Then, during a meeting with all the network executives, he had a complete meltdown and publicly attacked me. It stunned me. I was hurt and confused — but also determined to clear the air.
So at the end of the day, after the entire staff had gone home, I went into his office to have a calm conversation. I thought it would help. I thought it would show professionalism. Instead, he exploded again — worse this time — calling me names, personally attacking me, tearing me down.
I went home devastated.
I could only focus on this terrible loop.
I couldn’t function.
.
I looped the entire event in my head, blaming myself for having the courage to speak up.
That's what loopers do:
We blame ourselves for being human. We convince ourselves we did something to deserve the mistreatment. We torture ourselves with the past — something we can't change.
It almost makes me laugh now.
How could I have blamed myself for trying to do the right thing?
Learning about presence — especially through Eckhart Tolle and meditation — finally taught me to break free from the loop. It taught me something simple but life-changing:
The most important moment of your life is right now.
And now.
And now.
The only moment that matters is this one.
Now is where happiness lives.
Now is where your future is shaped.
Now is where every action that changes your life happens.
Your past?
It’s just a memory of a memory of a memory — distorted by time, emotion, and perception.
It isn’t even real anymore.
Now is real.
Now is the only thing that's real.
And here's the beautiful part:
If you didn’t take advantage of "now" before? That’s okay.
Because now is here again. Right now.
Three Ways to Stay in the Now:
1. Notice your loops.
When you catch yourself replaying something from the past, say to yourself: "That’s not happening anymore." Bring your attention gently back to this moment.
2. Create an anchor.
Use simple reminders — like focusing on your breath, feeling your feet on the ground, or asking yourself, "What’s happening right in front of me?" — to stay grounded in now.
3. Forgive yourself quickly.
The past does not define you.
You are not the mistakes you made or the pain you endured.
Forgiveness — especially for yourself — unlocks your power to be present.
You don’t have to be perfect to be free.
You just have to be here.
And you already are.