What Fills Your Cup?

WAIT! If you have not yet read our initial post “The Coffee Cup Mantra” scroll to the bottom of the page and head over to that post first. It’s worth understanding the story behind the cup and why it means so much to us at Modern Counseling and Wellness Co.

The first week of January, I felt like I was an extra in Groundhog Day. The same concerns. The same conversations. The same responses. But it stopped me right in my tracks and made me recognize a very common theme…

Purpose.

Every single person sitting in my office that week—fresh off a new year, trying to untangle the mess December leaves behind with its holidays, broken routines, bad habits, and the quiet weight of another year coming to an end—shared the same struggle.

“Who are you outside of being a mom? A doctor? A friend? An athlete?”

And they all responded the same way: “I don’t know.”

When we identify with a single role and don’t prioritize filling our own cup, eventually we lose the ability to pour from it. I know you’ve heard it time and time again: “You can’t pour from an empty cup.” But it’s true. If the only thing in your cup is being a mom—yet you also have to show up for work, make time for girls’ night, get dinner on the table, be intimate with your partner, and somehow keep up with your skincare routine—that cup is going to run out real quick.

If you’re a parent, I know you’ll understand this reference… and if you aren’t a parent and still understand it, I love that for you.

Personally, Inside Out is one of the most brilliant movies ever created (and yes, this is coming from a neuroscience geek). But hear me out…

You’ll notice references to Friendship Island, Hockey Island, Goofball Island, Family Island, and the list goes on. But you’ll also notice that the farther Joy gets from Headquarters, the less stable those islands become, eventually crumbling into the abyss.

Those Islands represent, you guessed it… purpose.

Riley lost her joy and, with it, the habits that filled her cup. Without prioritizing what brought her happiness and dopamine, she struggled to find her way back.

So as I sit in front of my clients, watching them struggle to identify their sense of purpose, I realize this is session number fifteen for the week—and I’ve now had this same conversation with every single person who has walked through my door. That tells me this issue is far bigger than my caseload. This is a universal struggle, one that has quietly contributed to an epidemic of mental health concerns, manifesting as anxiety, depression, and the motivational difficulties so many people face today.

From a neuroscience perspective, this loss of purpose makes sense. The brain is wired for meaning. When we have a sense of direction, the prefrontal cortex helps us organize our behavior, make decisions, and regulate emotion. Purpose gives the brain something to move toward. Without it, the nervous system stays in a state of ambiguity—constantly scanning, uncertain, and becomes easily dysregulated. Over time, this chronic lack of direction can keep the stress response activated, leaving people feeling stuck, exhausted, and overwhelmed, even when nothing is “wrong” on the surface.

Behavior follows biology. When the brain can’t identify a meaningful “why,” motivation doesn’t simply disappear, it becomes inhibited. Dopamine, the neurotransmitter tied to motivation and reward, relies on anticipation and pursuit. Without a clear sense of purpose, there is nothing to pursue, and the brain conserves energy by pulling back. What often shows up clinically as laziness, avoidance, or apathy is more accurately a nervous system that no longer knows where to invest its effort. And so people don’t just feel lost—they behave lost, reinforcing the very shame and self-doubt that brought them into the room in the first place.

Have I been here personally? Absolutely. Just ask any of my friends from high school or college who watched me obsess over every boyfriend I ever had, because I didn’t know how to function outside of being in a romantic relationship. I’m sure there’s some unresolved trauma woven into that story as well—but ultimately, I wasn’t prioritizing what needed to go into my cup, and I struggled to find my own sense of purpose.

And it’s almost like clockwork. As soon as I finish referencing Pixar, the tears begin to flow. Guilt, shame, and disappointment come rushing in, followed by a quiet but devastating admission: “I don’t even know who I am.”

But here’s the part everyone seems to struggle with the most.

“So, what are we going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well… nothing changes if nothing changes.”

And then—we get to work.

Somewhere along the way, many of us lose ourselves—not because we’re careless, but because we’ve been busy holding everything together. We adapt. We survive. We meet expectations. And without realizing it, our own needs, interests, and sense of direction get pushed to the background. This isn’t a failure of character; it’s a natural response to a life that demands constant tending. But staying still isn’t an option. Growth doesn’t require a dramatic reinvention or a “new year, new you.” It simply asks for intention—a willingness to organize what already exists, to reconnect with who you are beneath the noise, and to move forward with purpose instead of autopilot.

So I’ll leave you with one question:

What fills your cup?