Articles from:December 2025

  • The Yellow Light: Why We Need to Pause Before We Judge Potential

    “You’re not university material.”

    That’s what a professor told me in my first year.

    Not as feedback. Not as encouragement. As a conclusion.

    At the time, my life probably looked like evidence for his claim. My first two years of university were messy, filled with poor decisions, emotional immaturity, and a struggle to manage independence. If you judged my future based on that snapshot, his verdict might have felt justified.

    But my life didn’t end there. And that’s why I believe so strongly in what I call the Yellow Light Method. 

    Because what saved me wasn’t perfection. It wasn’t being rescued. And it certainty wasn’t being written off. It was being given time to develop.

    What is the Yellow Light? 

    A yellow light doesn’t mean ignoring problems or lowering standards. It means pause.

    1. Pause before criticism.
    2. Pause before panic.
    3. Pause before deciding that struggle equals failure.

    It’s the space where learning happens and it’s a space our culture is rapidly eliminating.

    We see the consequences everywhere and nowhere more vividly than on the football field.

    Lessons from the Field 

    Sports make impatience visible. Fans, coaches, and analysts are quick to write players off after one bad game, one mistake, or one rough season. But some of the greatest stories in football teach a different lesson: Growth takes time.

    1. Tom Brady: Patience Before Greatness

    Tom Brady was NOT a first-round draft pick. In fact, he was drafted 199th overall in the sixth round by the New England Patriots in the 2000 NFL Draft. His rookie season? Zero starts. One year on the bench, learning behind Dew Bledsoe.

    Brady didn’t arrive as a finished product. He grew through observation, repetition, pressure, and failure. Even after early success, his most dominant seasons came years later.

    Brady’s story isn’t about destiny.

    It’s about patience. It’s about development.

    Someone paused instead of panicking and the world witnessed the brilliant result.

    2. Josh Allen: Early Struggle Doesn’t Predict the Outcome

    Josh Allen’s rookie season with he Buffalo Bills was rocky. He only completed 52.8% of his passes, with a passer rating pf 67.9. These numbers led to widespread doubt and criticism about his ability to succeed at the NFL level.

    If this happened today, most would have already written him off. Yet, the Buffalo Bills did something different. They stayed with the process.

    Season by season, Allen’s accuracy has climbed, reaching elite levels around 70%. He has refined his mechanics, decision-making, and leadership, and has become one of the league’s top quarterbacks, evidenced by his AP NFL MVP honours last season.

    His early struggles weren’t failure. They are evidence of development and progress.

    3. Kyle Brandt and the Bears: Don’t Call the Game Too Early 

    Kyle Brandt of Good Morning Football has a way of spotting patterns most of us miss, and as a die-hard Bears fan for the last 40 years, I appreciate his sharp perspective.

    He points out a familiar phenomena: mid-game, and sometimes even early on, social media explodes with declarations that the Bears are terrible. The season is over, and the game is lost.

    And then… the Bears win.

    Brandt’s point isn’t really about football. It’s about our human tendency to narrate failure before the story is finished. We hit red lights while the clock is still running.

    This habit doesn’t just stay on social media, as it shows up in classrooms, offices, and homes, and it reminds us how easy it is to judge too soon.

    When the Yellow Light Matters Most: Parenting

    This same impatience shows up at home.

    Some parents expect perfect grades. Perfect emotional regulation. Perfect judgement, even from developing brains.

    Pause. Yellow light.

    If a child never struggles, what are they learning? If every mistake triggers panic or criticism, what lesson sticks?

    Psychologically, failure and struggle are essential. They teach:

    • Problem-solving
    • Emotional regulation
    • Persistence
    • Self-trust

    When adults rush to fix, rescue, or criticize, children don’t grow stronger or learn to strive for excellence. They grow anxious. They develop learned helplessness, perfectionism, and self-doubt.

    Perfectionism doesn’t produce excellence. It produces fear.

    My Yellow Light Moment

    I’ve lived this. I struggled. I fell. I disappointed people.

    But my parents and grandparents did something rare.

    • They didn’t save me from consequences.
    • They didn’t remove the obstacles in my way.
    • They didn’t shame me for needing time.
    • They didn’t abandon me to “figure it out alone”.

    They scaffolded my growth. They stayed present without taking over. They supported the process without controlling it. They trusted that learning sometimes requires discomfort.

    That balance of not rescuing while also not rejecting, is how I eventually found my way and why I am now living my best life.

    I didn’t grow despite struggling. I grew because I was allowed to struggle.

    A Question Worth Sitting With

    • If Tom Brady had been judged by his draft status…
    • If Josh Allen had been written off after his first season…
    • If the Bears game ended when fans declared it over…

    What would we have missed?

    Now the harder question:

    Who might your child become if you stopped treating early struggle as a final verdict?

    The yellow light method asks us to do something deeply countercultural:

    • Pause before labeling
    • Pause before predicting outcomes
    • Pause before intervening out of anxiety

    Because most lives worth admiring don’t look impressive in the early chapters. They look unfinished, and unfinished doesn’t mean broken. It means still becoming. 

    The real danger isn’t letting kids struggle when things are not going exactly according to plan. It’s deciding too early that their story is already written.

    That’s the yellow light, and were all being asked to slow down.

    *Please note that this post does not apply to mental health struggles which do require immediate attention and intervention.

    Categories: Blog

  • When Perfectionism Steals the Holidays and What My Nana Taught Me Instead 

    Every year around the holidays, perfectionism tends to rear its ugly head. 

    It whispers that the meal needs to be impressive, the house needs to look a certain way, the traditions need to be preserved just right. It convinces us that if something goes wrong, a late guest, mismatched plates, a moment of chaos, then we have somehow failed. 

    But when I think about the best holidays of my life, perfection had nothing to do with them. 

    A Basement, Three Tables, and Everything That Mattered

    I grew up in a big Italian family, and Christmas was always at my Nana and Nonno’s house. Not upstairs, always in the basement. Three long banquet tables stretched across the room. Cousins crammed together at one end, parents and grandparents at the other. The chairs did not match. Neither did the plates. The house was not big or fancy, and the noise level was impressive. 

    Dinner always started with Nana’s homemade lasagna and mini meatballs, rich and comforting, the kind that filled the room with warmth before anyone even sat down. That was followed by the big turkey and all the fixings, passed hand to hand down the long tables. Nothing about it was styled or staged. It was meant to be eaten, shared, and enjoyed. 

    After the meal, everyone pitched in to do the dishes. Then the cards came out and we played Scopa, cards slapping the table, laughter bouncing off the walls. For dessert, there were grispelles, still warm and dusted with sugar, alongside baskets of walnuts that we would stack higher and higher to see who could build the tallest tower before it all came crashing down. 

    There was also an open door policy. We never quite knew who would show up. Sometimes family from Toronto would arrive without warning. No stress, no reshuffling of plans. We would just squeeze in tighter. Another chair would appear. Another glass would be poured. The homemade wine came out in old bottles, and the conversations flowed freely, stories, teasing, warmth, and laughter that felt endless. 

    It was messy. It was loud. It was far from flawless. 

    And it was everything. 

    Then and Now 

    Today, so much has changed. 

    An unexpected knock at the door can send a quiet ripple of panic through a house. We exchange looks. We wonder if the timing is right, if we are prepared, if we have enough, if things look the way they should. Unscheduled guests feel like disruptions instead of gifts. 

    At the table, phones often come out before the conversation really begins. Notifications pull us away. Photos get taken. Messages get answered. We sit beside one another, but not always with one another. 

    Perfectionism thrives in this space. It convinces us that we need control, predictability, and polish before we can welcome others or really settle into a moment. But in doing so, it gently escorts us out of the very experiences we are longing for. 

    Perfectionism’s Quiet Cost 

    Research on perfectionism, including the work from our lab, shows that perfectionism is not just about high standards. It is about fear. Fear of disappointing others. Fear of being judged. Fear that if something is not just right, it somehow reflects our worth. 

    During the holidays, that fear can steal the very thing we are trying to create, connection. 

    Perfectionism pulls our attention away from the people in the room and redirects it toward what is going wrong. It asks us to manage appearances instead of moments. It tells us success is measured by how smoothly everything runs, rather than how deeply we feel connected. 

    But connection does not live in control. It lives in presence. 

    Nana’s Lessons Still Live On 

    My Nana is no longer with us. The basement gatherings ended years ago. The tables are gone. The cards have been tucked away. And yet, her lessons show up every holiday season, whether I invite them in or not. 

    She never chased perfection. She chased purpose. She believed that feeding people, welcoming them, and making space, emotionally and literally, mattered far more than presentation or polish. She did not need things to be impressive. She needed them to be shared. 

    Her life quietly taught us that meaning outlasts appearances. That warmth matters more than order. That success is not found in flawless execution, but in showing up for one another, again and again. 

    How to Gently Loosen Perfectionism’s Grip This Holiday 

    If perfectionism feels especially loud this season, here are a few ways to soften it, inspired by research and by lived experience. 

    1. Let good enough be more than enough.
      A holiday does not need to be extraordinary to be meaningful. When we loosen rigid standards, we create space for joy, flexibility, and rest.
    2. Choose self-compassion over self-criticism.
      Perfectionism thrives on harsh inner dialogue. Self-kindness, especially when things go awry, protects our mental health and keeps us emotionally available.
    3. Focus on people, notperformance.
      Years from now, no one will remember the table settings. They will remember who made them feel welcome, safe, and included.
    4. Put the phone down and stay.
      Presence isa practice. Leaving the phone off the table, even for a short while, is a quiet act of resistance against perfectionism, disconnection, and distraction.
    5. Make room for uncertainty.
      Unexpected guests, changed plans, imperfect moments. These are not disruptions. They are often where the best memories are born.
    6. Ask yourself what really matters.
      Is it how the holiday looks, or how it feels to sit together, laugh together, and belong?

    The Table Lives On 

    I still carry those basement Christmases with me. I carry my Nana’s open door, her easy laughter, her quiet wisdom. Her reminder that connection and purpose matter more than getting everything right. 

    Perfectionism promises a flawless holiday. But presence — messy, loud, unpredictable presence,—- is what makes it unforgettable. 

    And if we are lucky, that is the legacy we pass on. Happy Holidays from the Developmental Processes and Health and Well-Being Lab! 

    Categories: Blog