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Adaptive Humans™ is the podcast for real talk and intentional growth. Hosted by Jami de Lou, each episode blends meaningful stories with practical tools you can use in your next meeting, tough conversation, or high-pressure moment—and just as easily in everyday life. Together, we’ll explore how to work with emotions instead of against them, bridge differences with respect, and steady ourselves when stress runs high. With signature segments like Beyond the Bio, Brave Enough Moment, and Just Be Reset, this podcast invites you to practice adaptability in the moments that matter most.
Adaptive Humans – Episode 13
What This Year Asked of Us — and What 2026 Will Really Require
Jami de Lou
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Welcome back to Adaptive Humans, the podcast for real talk and intentional growth.
I’m your host, Jami de Lou.
Around here, we return to three anchors:
how we navigate our emotions,
how we adapt across differences,
and how we steady ourselves when stress or triggers show up —
because that’s what helps us stay human when life gets real.
This is our final episode of the year, and instead of forcing optimism or rushing into resolutions, I want us to be honest about the world we just walked through — and intentional about how we enter 2026.
Today’s episode has three parts, as always:
Beyond the Bio, where we go beneath titles to the real human stories;
Brave Enough, where we tell the truth about moving before we feel fully ready;
and Just Be Reset, our moment to pause, breathe, and create space — especially as we approach the new year.
Let’s begin together.
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Beyond the Bio: Reflecting on 2025
This segment is where we get at the human story beneath the surface.
When I look back at 2025 — beneath résumés, polished updates, “I’m fine” responses, and curated online presence — this was a year that stretched people quietly, deeply, and often invisibly.
And we cannot talk about the emotional experience of this year without acknowledging the world we lived in. I want to do that gently, truthfully, and without politicizing people’s pain.
This year, individuals and communities across identities and life experiences carried the weight of:
• escalating violence and war
• families displaced or grieving unimaginable losses
• detentions and kidnappings by ICE that created fear and instability for immigrant families across the United States
• targeted attacks on LGBTQ+ communities that reopened old wounds and amplified vulnerability
• rising antisemitism and Islamophobia that left Jewish and Muslim communities feeling unsafe and, at times, unseen
• the elimination of DEI roles, executive orders targeting organizations, and widespread job loss
• government shutdowns that stretched workers and families to the brink
And a broader social climate where people didn’t know if their identity was safe — in public spaces, or even at work.
These are not abstract issues.
They live inside people’s bodies.
They show up as hypervigilance, exhaustion, irritability, emotional shutdown, difficulty concentrating, and trouble trusting connection.
They show up at dinner tables, in classrooms, in team meetings, and in leadership rooms.
Different communities carried different forms of pain — all of it real, all of it valid.
Even if these events didn’t touch your life directly, they shaped the collective environment your nervous system was operating inside of. We all felt that ripple.
Naming this isn’t about division.
It’s about truth.
It’s about compassion.
It’s about understanding why we were more tired, more overwhelmed, and more emotionally stretched than we expected.
So if this year felt heavier for you — not just professionally, but personally, emotionally, or physiologically — you weren’t imagining it.
You were responding to a real, layered load.
And this is the part that never shows up in anyone’s bio:
People carrying private grief while holding public responsibilities.
People absorbing tension in families or teams without naming it.
People performing strength while quietly unraveling inside.
People mediating conflicts rooted not in strategy, but in fear.
People disconnected from themselves because their bodies stayed in survival mode for too long.
People losing joy or clarity without knowing how to get it back.
Underneath titles and achievements, capacity — not talent — became the defining variable of the year.
Because when nervous systems are overloaded, collaboration suffers.
Trust thins.
Creativity shrinks.
Decision-making slows or becomes reactive.
Teams misinterpret differences as threats.
And individuals look “checked out” when they’re actually overwhelmed.
What I witnessed across industries was not a talent crisis.
It was a capacity crisis.
A humanity crisis.
A systems crisis.
And the cost of unaddressed emotional, cultural, and physiological strain showed up everywhere — in families, organizations, communities, and our internal lives.
This was the year many people realized that the human operating system — the blend of emotional intelligence, cultural intelligence, and stress response — isn’t optional.
It’s foundational.
It’s the only thing that allows us to adapt, collaborate, and think clearly under pressure.
So as we close this year, Beyond the Bio is simply this:
We survived a lot.
We held a lot.
And if you’re tired, it’s because your humanity was working overtime.
The question now becomes:
What does it look like to rebuild capacity in 2026?
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Brave Enough
This brings us to our Brave Enough moment — the space where we honor courage before clarity.
My Brave Enough moment this year is one I’ve been moving toward quietly, steadily, and honestly — sometimes reluctantly.
I’m stepping fully into my work as an Adaptability Architect and Human Systems Strategist.
Not because it was neat or expected.
Not because someone handed me a roadmap.
But because it became impossible to ignore the pattern I was seeing.
Organizations don’t struggle because they lack talent.
Let me say that again.
Organizations do not struggle because they lack talent.
They struggle because they lack adaptability — the human capacity to stay aligned, decisive, and resilient under pressure.
And adaptability can’t be built with policies or one-off trainings.
It requires integrating emotional intelligence, cultural intelligence, and nervous system science — understanding how stress responses shape behavior, decision-making, and collaboration.
These are the deeper layers of human behavior most workplaces never address — and the very layers leaders will need to navigate 2026 and beyond.
This path isn’t fully mapped.
There’s no single job title.
No playbook.
No model to copy.
It’s an accumulation of work across organizational design, culture, leadership, and talent — and years of listening deeply to how humans adapt across difference.
That’s exactly why it feels brave.
Real bravery is rarely a cinematic leap.
It’s not jumping the Grand Canyon.
It’s peeking over the edge, taking one step, and realizing there’s a path — even if you can’t see all of it yet.
Bravery is the decision to move when you don’t yet feel polished, perfect, or proven.
And maybe your Brave Enough moment this year looked different:
Asking for help instead of drowning quietly.
Admitting burnout instead of powering through.
Leaving a role that no longer aligned with your values.
Using your voice where silence once felt safer.
Setting boundaries that protected your well-being.
Giving yourself permission to rest.
Reclaiming joy after a season of survival.
Challenging the status quo even when your voice shook.
Bravery isn’t a personality trait.
It’s a practice of alignment.
It’s noticing when the old way of operating is costing you too much — and taking one grounded step toward something different.
2026 will reward people who are brave in regulated ways.
Those who innovate carefully.
Who set intentional boundaries.
Who regulate and re-regulate their nervous systems.
Who choose clarity over avoidance.
Who adapt with humanity, not urgency.
Being brave enough doesn’t mean certainty.
It means presence.
And presence is what makes adaptation possible.
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Just Be Reset
Before we close, I want to guide you into a reset — a moment for your body and mind to catch up to themselves.
And I want to weave in something that matters deeply, especially in hard seasons:
joy, as a choice where it’s available.
Not forced joy.
Not denial.
Not the kind that asks you to ignore suffering — yours or anyone else’s.
But the kind of joy that gives your system just enough relief to remember you’re human.
If it’s safe to do so, pause.
Soften your jaw.
Drop your shoulders.
Let your breath deepen without forcing it.
This isn’t about perfection.
It’s about permission.
Reflection One
What part of me is tired from carrying what wasn’t mine this year?
Maybe you held the emotional weight of your team, your family, or your community.
Maybe you buffered conflict.
Maybe you over-functioned because the system around you under-supported.
You don’t have to fix it right now.
Just name it.
Your body will thank you for telling the truth.
Reflection Two
What part of me deserves more support in 2026?
Not the optimized version of you.
Not the over-performing version.
The real you.
Support might look like boundaries, rest, clarity, mentorship, spiritual grounding, companionship, or slowing down long enough to hear yourself again.
Support isn’t indulgent.
Support is strategic.
Reflection Three
What can I release — even by 5% — before the year ends?
Not everything.
Just one layer.
Urgency that wasn’t yours.
Guilt for needing rest.
Perfectionism.
The belief that you had to carry everything alone.
A story about who you “should” be that no longer fits.
Loosen your grip.
Just a little.
Take a deep breath in.
And a long exhale out.
That’s what release feels like.
And now — joy.
You are allowed to feel moments of joy, ease, and fun — even in dark times.
Joy doesn’t mean you’re ignoring suffering.
It doesn’t mean you’ve stopped caring.
Joy is a nervous system resource.
A pressure valve.
A reminder that you are more than what you carry.
Joy can be small.
A laugh you didn’t expect.
A song that softens something inside you.
A conversation that feels like home.
A meal that feels comforting.
A moment outside where the air feels different.
A bit of ease you allow yourself without guilt.
Joy doesn’t erase the heaviness.
It gives you room to breathe inside it.
Joy isn’t irresponsible.
Joy is resilience.
Joy is repair.
And for some of us, joy is rebellion — a refusal to let pain be the only story.
So ask yourself gently:
Where is joy available to me?
Even for 30 seconds.
Even for one breath.
Let your body answer that question — not your mind — and carry that answer into the new year.
This is your reset:
truth, release, support, and the quiet permission for joy.
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Closing
Thank you for joining me today — and all season — for the conversations we’ve had, the truths we’ve named, and the growth we’ve stepped into together.
As we move into 2026, Adaptive Humans will continue exploring the human side of leadership and life — the emotional, cultural, and physiological dimensions that shape how we collaborate, adapt, and stay grounded under pressure.
We’ll continue returning to the stories and skills behind leadership that lasts, because adaptability always starts with presence — presence with yourself first, then with others, and with the systems you’re part of.
And around here, we return to three anchors:
how we navigate our emotions,
how we adapt across differences,
and how we steady ourselves when stress or triggers show up —
because that’s what helps us stay human when life gets real.
I’m so grateful you’re here.
Take good care of yourself.
And remember: I am brave. I am enough. I am brave enough.
And so are you.
This is Adaptive Humans — real talk, intentional growth.
May you have a gentle holiday season.
I’ll see you next year.