Everyday Vitality

Why do so many of us feel drained and disconnected—despite seemingly having it all together? In Everyday Vitality, psychiatrist Dr. Samantha Boardman argues that the real antidote to exhaustion and stagnation isn’t more self-care or escape from stress—it’s vital engagement with life. Boardman, a clinical psychiatrist with a background in positive psychology, challenges the dominant cultural narrative that happiness comes from looking inward and eliminating discomfort. Instead, she contends that vitality—the sense of aliveness, strength, and energy—is built not through retreat but through deliberate participation in the world around us.

This is not a book about achieving constant bliss or eliminating pain. Boardman insists that negative emotions are not enemies to be vanquished. Stress, frustration, and uncertainty are inevitable, and trying to eliminate them only leaves us fragile. What matters is how we turn them into strength. Drawing from positive psychology research and her clinical experiences, she offers a framework built around three wellsprings of vitality: connecting meaningfully with others, engaging in experiences that challenge and expand you, and contributing to something beyond yourself.

From Draining Days to Engaged Living

Boardman’s patients often arrived feeling what she calls “air-quote fine”—not clinically ill but depleted, disengaged, and unfulfilled. They juggled work, relationships, and responsibilities, but life felt like an endless series of checkboxes. Many, like her patient Claire, came to therapy only to dwell on everything that was wrong. Claire’s complaint—that their sessions made her feel worse—sparked a crisis for Boardman herself. Realizing she was trained to diagnose pathology, not strengthen well-being, Boardman returned to school to study positive psychology under Martin Seligman, the founder of the “flourishing” movement. There she discovered that the absence of illness isn’t the same as the presence of health.

The exploration changed her practice—and philosophy. She began focusing not on “undoing” pain but on building psychological resources that fuel strength and joy. As Seligman once wrote, “The opposite of depression is not happiness, but vitality.” That insight now underlies Boardman’s approach: well-being isn’t about feeling good all the time, but about having enough internal and external energy to meet the demands of life.

Vitality as Deliberate Action

Crucially, vitality isn’t an inborn trait or a fleeting mood—it’s a skill and a practice. Boardman reframes vitality as “a verb, not a state”. It’s something you generate through what she calls “deliberate vitality.” That means taking small, regular, intentional actions that connect, challenge, and contribute. Whether it’s reaching out to a friend, learning a new skill, or helping someone else, vitality grows through engagement rather than introspection. She contrasts this approach with the self-immersion encouraged by the wellness industry—retreats, detoxes, inward searching—which often deepen disengagement instead of curing it.

Why This Matters

Boardman wrote much of Everyday Vitality in the shadow of the pandemic, a time when disconnection and anxiety eroded even the most resilient spirits. She argues that cultivating everyday vitality is essential not only for our individual mental health but for contributing to society in times of collective crisis. In her words, vitality gives us “the strength and energy to activate long-overdue social change.”

Throughout the book, she translates years of clinical insight and psychological research into pragmatic strategies for real life. She dissects how stress really works—the small “pebbles” that chip away at us—then flips the script on resilience, showing that it’s most effective when expressed in daily life, not only after trauma. She encourages readers to redefine authenticity, reimagine their capacity for change, and challenge the corrosive myths that self-focus leads to happiness. In her view, vitality doesn’t come from protecting ourselves against life—it comes from showing up for it fully.

“Vitality doesn’t come from disengaging from the world while you ‘find yourself.’ It comes from living well within it.” — Dr. Samantha Boardman

If you often feel drained, distracted, or “meh,” Boardman’s message is both scientific and deeply human: you don’t need a radical reinvention or a stress-free life to feel whole. You need connection, contribution, and challenge—woven consciously into the fabric of your ordinary days. Everyday Vitality provides both the science and stories to show you how.

Dr. Boardman opens her first section with a wry confession: she was trained to handle cardiac arrests, not the daily drips of frustration that erode our sanity. Through both research and real patient stories, she shows that the little things—those tiny pebbles in your shoe—matter far more than the mountains.

The Power of “Microstressors”

Boardman cites research from the University of California, Berkeley showing that “microstressors”—the endless small hassles like a late train, a forgotten password, or the news cycle—predict emotional and physical health better than big life events. These stressors are so normalized that we dismiss them as trivial, but their cumulative effect can lead to irritability, sleep disruption, and disengagement. Over time, she warns, such friction “wears out our mental soles.”

Take Bella, a twenty-nine-year-old Manhattanite whose life wasn’t falling apart but was perpetually overwhelming. Between her demanding job, turbulent relationship, and even a sick cat, she was perpetually frazzled. When her driver’s license expired and she burst into tears at a doctor’s office, she realized it wasn’t about the license—it was about depletion. Bella was “not flattened by boulders but pummeled by pebbles.”

Outer Orientation, Not Self-Immersion

Boardman observes that when we’re stressed, our instinct is to withdraw inward—to cancel plans, self-soothe with food or screens, or isolate. Ironically, these coping mechanisms deepen exhaustion because they erode vitality. The antidote isn’t to escape your world but to reengage with it. Boardman introduces what she calls an “outer orientation”: a deliberate shift from self-absorption to other-absorption. People who look outward—to seek help, share humor, or consider other perspectives—bounce back faster from everyday stress.

Practical vitality, she insists, lies in action. Ask questions instead of ruminating, reach out instead of hiding, and take small steps that restore agency rather than reinforce helplessness. In other words, tending to the “pebbles” begins with movement, not meditation.

Minor irritations are not minor when neglected; they are the termites that quietly hollow out endurance.

In redefining stress, Boardman makes a counterintuitive argument: resilience isn’t forged after trauma; it’s practiced daily in how we deal with traffic jams and tantrums. She leaves readers with this challenge—don’t wait for a life-changing crisis to build strength. The small pebbles you notice today may be the very weight training your mind needs to grow resilient tomorrow.

When we hear “resilience,” we imagine surviving catastrophe. Boardman reframes it as something quieter and more democratic—the everyday capacity to flex instead of break. She calls this “little r resilience,” the steady stamina that helps you face deadlines, disagreements, or disappointments without unraveling.

Velcro People vs. Teflon People

Citing psychologist David Almeida’s decade-long research, Boardman explains that people differ in how tightly stress “sticks.” Velcro people absorb emotional residue—carrying grumpiness from a minor argument all day—while Teflon people let stress slide off more easily. Chronic reactivity doesn’t just affect mood; it predicts long-term health issues, from arthritis to heart disease. This isn’t just personality—it’s lifestyle. Fatigue, isolation, poor diet, and low autonomy all make us “stickier.”

Autonomy, Competence, and Relatedness

Building resilience isn’t about ignoring pain; it’s about replenishing strength. Boardman draws on Self-Determination Theory (Ed Deci & Richard Ryan) to identify three psychological nutrients that boost vitality:

• Autonomy: Feeling that your actions align with your values and you have a say in your life.
• Competence: Mastering activities—big or small—that make you feel effective.
• Relatedness: Experiencing closeness and connection with others through empathy and support.

When these needs are satisfied, stressors lose their sting. Boardman’s patient Gina, a self-described “Velcro person,” illustrates this perfectly. After years of reactivity and insomnia, she improved not by analyzing her past but by designing small, intentional routines that met these three needs—setting digital boundaries (autonomy), joining a jogging group (competence), and forming friendships (relatedness). She became, in Boardman’s words, “more Teflon by the day.”

Learning to Be Strong, Not Fearless

For Boardman, “little r resilience” isn’t stoicism. It’s adaptability. True strength lies in flexibility—the willingness to learn, adjust, and lean on others. Harvard research she cites shows that what people find most fortifying are not medications or mantras, but regular exercise, time outdoors, engaging hobbies, and family connection. Everyday resilience is cumulative: it’s built in kitchens, sidewalks, and text threads long before we ever face disaster.

Boardman’s brilliance lies in grounding resilience not in heroic recovery but in humble practice. You don’t have to climb mountains to prove your strength; you just have to stop turning molehills into ones.

Our culture preaches authenticity—“be yourself.” Boardman calls this half-truth harmful. Sometimes, she insists, you must be “un-you”—that is, act against your habits and fears to become your best, expanded self.

Borrowing Bravery

When paralyzed by public-speaking anxiety before a major talk, Boardman scribbled “BW” on every page of her notes. It stood for Barbara Walters. Channeling the confident anchorwoman helped her override fear and “borrow” another persona’s grace. Research supports this trick: kids pretending to be Batman performed better on tedious tasks than those who just acted as themselves (“The Batman Effect,” Rachel White et al., 2017). By adopting a role model’s mindset—what psychologists call self-distancing through emulation—you can tap into attributes you don’t yet own.

Break Free from Your Story

Boardman argues that authenticity shouldn’t mean rigid loyalty to your past. We all inherit narratives—“I’m not athletic,” “I’m bad with people,” “I’m just shy.” Clinging to them limits vitality. Instead, therapy or self-reflection should “change your past” by reframing old stories so they don’t define your future. When you behave in ways consistent with your ideal self, not just your actual one, you feel more genuine, not less. For example, one of Boardman’s patients, a chronic people-pleaser, learned to say no for the first time—not to be rude, but to honor kindness over “niceness.” Acting “un-her” liberated her confidence and self-respect.

Expand Your Emotional Range

You don’t grow by reenacting yourself; you grow by rehearsing who you want to be. Channel a teacher’s calm during conflict, Oprah’s poise when challenged, or even Charlotte the spider’s wisdom when choosing compassion (in Charlotte’s Web). Small behavioral experiments—trying on courage or steadiness—reshape your sense of self in real time.

Authenticity is not about being fixed in who you are—it’s about becoming who you’re capable of being.

Boardman’s invitation to “be un-you” isn’t about phoniness; it’s about freedom. When vitality feels stuck inside the shell of the familiar, stepping outside yourself—literally and mentally—can reignite energy, curiosity, and connection.

Easy doesn’t strengthen you. Boardman revives an old truth modern convenience has buried: effort makes life meaningful. Through research on rats, cake mixes, and IKEA furniture, she illustrates that labor, frustration, and even stress—when connected to purpose—become sources of vitality.

The Worker Rat vs. the Trust-Fund Rat

In neuroscientist Kelly Lambert’s experiments, rats that had to dig for their treats (“worker rats”) became bolder, more resilient, and more resourceful than those simply handed food (“trust-fund rats”). Their effort rewired their brains for confidence and flexibility. Humans, Boardman argues, work the same way. Effortful engagement—whether through mastering a skill, building furniture, or exercising—trains what she calls “mental muscles of mastery.”

The IKEA Effect and the Add-An-Egg Principle

Remember the old story of cake mixes that flopped until makers removed the powdered egg and asked consumers to “add your own”? Bakers valued the product more because they invested effort. Psychologists Michael Norton and Dan Ariely named this phenomenon the IKEA effect: people love what they build themselves. Whether baking a cake or assembling a crooked bookshelf, the satisfaction comes not from perfection but participation.

Boardman encourages readers to find their own “add-an-egg” moments—inject effort into activities instead of outsourcing them to algorithms or apps. Growth, she says, isn’t found in effortless results but in “stressful, yet meaningful” striving.

Stress, the Good Kind (Eustress)

Drawing from stress researcher Hans Selye, Boardman distinguishes eustress—the energizing stress that sharpens focus—from chronic distress. Learning new skills, speaking up, or training for a race may be hard, but “hard in a good way.” It forges purpose and resilience. Psychiatrist Elyn Saks, who lives with schizophrenia, exemplifies this: she thrived not by avoiding stress but by pursuing meaningful goals as a law professor. Her illness didn’t vanish, but her vitality flourished through engagement.

Ultimately, the joy is in the doing. Echoing psychologist Jonathan Haidt, Boardman reminds us that achievement’s thrill fades, but the journey’s engagement endures. Life’s hardest moments often hold its richest rewards—if you dare to keep digging for your Froot Loop.

Connection is medicine. Yet Boardman notes that modern wellness culture markets independence and solitude as cures for stress. In contrast, decades of research confirm that belonging—being seen, understood, and valued—heals faster than isolation ever can.

Skip the Casseroles

Big crises inspire casseroles—neighbors show up when someone’s sick or grieving—but no one brings comfort food for daily stress. Boardman argues that everyday hassles also demand social nourishment. Too often, we prioritize work-related politeness while neglecting our closest relationships. Her grandmother’s wisdom said it best: “The grass is greener where you water it.”

The misconception that happiness comes “from within” leaves many lonely. Instead, research shows that socially oriented goals—spending time with friends or helping others—make people happier than self-improvement ones. Exercise, too, generates more joy when done together. Studies even show that team sports add more years to your life than solo workouts.

Invisible Support and Everyday Love

Not all support has to be dramatic. The most effective kind, called “invisible support,” often goes unnoticed: filling up your partner’s gas tank, quietly scheduling their doctor’s appointment, or cleaning up before they get home. Boardman references studies showing that partners who receive invisible support feel stronger and less anxious than those given explicit reassurance. Love, she concludes, isn’t just words—it’s attention.

Responsiveness: The Glue of Relationships

Desire, intimacy, and trust all depend on responsiveness—the sense that someone “gets you.” Whether in romantic partnerships, friendships, or workplaces, responsiveness strengthens motivation and buffers stress. Gestures of affection—a hand squeeze, laughter, listening without distraction—make daily struggles lighter and reinforce vitality. Conversely, inattentiveness (checking your phone during conversation) quietly drains it.

For Boardman, connection isn’t optional self-care—it’s the cornerstone of psychological stamina. To thrive, we don’t need more self-care days; we need better conversations, eye contact, and people willing to hold our hands when the hill feels steep.

What if negative feelings weren’t malfunctions but messengers? In a culture obsessed with positivity, Boardman’s chapter on “constructive negativity” reclaims sadness, anger, and worry as valuable data. Healthy psychology, she argues, doesn’t mean constant cheerfulness—it means learning from your moods instead of medicating or suppressing them.

Discomfort Is Data

Boardman illustrates this through Daphne, a woman grieving her grandmother. Friends told her to “move on,” but her lingering sadness was normal, not pathological. Citing psychiatrist Colin Murray Parkes, Boardman writes, “The pain of grief is the price we pay for love.” Negative emotions, when acknowledged, guide problem-solving: frustration signals misalignment, guilt highlights values, sadness honors connection. Miss Clavel from the children’s book Madeline serves as her metaphor: “In the night she turned on the light and said, ‘Something is not right.’” Those instincts, properly heeded, prevent deeper crises.

Name It to Tame It

Feelings lose power when articulated. Teaching patients to expand emotional vocabulary—beyond “bad” or “fine”—helps them regain control. One client, Mike, rationalized his breakup with endless activity instead of grief. When Boardman urged him to pinpoint what he felt (“finality,” “loss of hope”), language transformed avoidance into clarity, allowing him to act intentionally rather than react reflexively.

The Benefit of Bad Moods

Studies show that accepting negative emotions shortens their lifespan and even enhances health. People who experience a wide range of emotions—“emodiversity”—are more resilient. Accepting sadness can make it pass sooner; paradoxically, fighting it makes it stick. As Shakespeare put it, “There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.”

Boardman invites readers to replace “Don’t worry, be happy” with “Worry, learn, and act wisely.” Vitality is not the absence of storms but the skill of sailing through them.

In her final chapters, Boardman brings her philosophy full circle: vitality isn’t accidental or inherited—it’s deliberate. Days quietly accumulate into lives, so every choice—how you treat your body, invest attention, and respond to others—either fuels or depletes your energy. To flourish, she writes, is to live with intention.

The Psychology of Intention

Vitality thrives when what you think, say, and do align. Boardman encourages readers to set SMART goals (specific, measurable, aligned with values, realistic, time-bound) to translate good intentions into real action. Want to be more compassionate? Decide to express appreciation daily. Want more energy? Schedule bedtime as firmly as meetings. Vital people, she’s found, don’t drift—they decide.

Seeing the Good During Crisis

During COVID-19, Boardman urged patients to practice what she calls “delight radar”—seeking small marvels amid sorrow. Inspired by poet Ross Gay’s Book of Delights, she advised cataloging two uplifting moments daily. These “micro-uplifts” strengthen psychological immunity against relentless bad news, creating upward spirals of appreciation and purpose. Generosity, compassion, and connection became antidotes to despair.

Vitality Is a Verb

“Going about your days,” she concludes, “is going about your life.” Vitality isn’t achieved by meditating on mountains or buying better routines—it’s enacted through engagement: connecting, contributing, and challenging yourself. To thrive, you must turn outward, act deliberately, and continue evolving. Or, as she rephrases wellness culture’s favorite metaphor, “Secure your own oxygen mask—but don’t forget to look around.”

Boardman’s definition of a good day—and by extension, a good life—is simple yet profound: one filled with alertness, engagement, and energy. The practice of deliberate vitality transforms ordinary hours into opportunities for strength. You don’t wait for vitality to find you. You create it.