Reset: Too Many Tabs, Not Enough Peace

And how closing them at night saved my sleep (and my sanity)

It started with toothpaste.

An innocent thought while brushing my teeth: “I should add toothpaste to the list.”

Simple enough. Until I asked myself: Which toothpaste?

Fluoride or no fluoride?
Gel or paste?
Mint, extra mint, or “Arctic Thunderstorm Explosion”?
All-natural with baking soda? Charcoal? Crushed diamonds?

Then I remembered some podcast rambling about nano-hydroxyapatite. I’m not even sure it’s a real thing, but my YouTube ads are now aggressively confident that it is.

So now I’m standing in the bathroom, foam building in my mouth, spiraling into a full-blown dental identity crisis.

Just then my four-year-old barges in, pantsless, wielding a Paw Patrol toothbrush like a sword.

And that, my friends, is how the tabs open.

One small question, and suddenly I’m 37 tabs deep into:
– “Best kids toothpaste 2025”
– “Is enamel real or made up by Big Dental?”
– “How to know if your anxiety is toothpaste-related”

Meanwhile, I’ve forgotten why I walked into the kitchen, my coffee’s cold, and I’m half-convinced I need to import tooth powder from a Himalayan monastery.

Eventually, I realized something:
The tabs won’t stop unless I close them.
Not on my phone (but that helps). On my mind.

That’s why I started a new rhythm.

A reset at the end of the day.
Sometimes it’s journaling.
Sometimes it’s actually talking with my wife (instead of mentally narrating our conversation like a stressed-out podcast host).
Sometimes it’s just writing a final to-do list so I don’t dream about forgetting it in my planner.

And slowly, the tabs quieted.
The late-night spirals turned into rest.
And the toothpaste? I picked one. Minty. In a tube. And we’re all still alive.

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The Reflection
I used to keep my phone by my bed like it was a lifeline.
Wake up at 2:00 a.m., check a tab, feel “productive,” and crash back to sleep.
Or type out a to-do list in my Notes app so it lived somewhere.

Anywhere besides my brain.

Except I wasn’t managing the worries.

I was feeding them.

Things shifted when I started ending my days with intention instead of exhaustion:

• A brain dump of everything waiting for tomorrow.

• Going around with the boys naming what we were grateful for today.

• A few minutes with my wife, moving in and out of conversation as we process the day and prep for the next.

• Leaving my phone out of the bedroom, so my last and first thoughts weren’t borrowed from a screen

Even one of those resets helps quiet my mind.
All four? Sleep usually finds me before the tabs can.

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The Scripture
“We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” — 2 Corinthians 10:5

This verse hit differently once I started seeing my thoughts like open tabs.

They don’t need to be solved or spiraled on at 10:37 p.m. They just need to be surrendered.

Because when those thoughts hijack my brain and my nervous system,

I’m not the present dad I want to be.

But when I take those thoughts captive,
I stop letting my browser run me.
I close the tab.
I give it back to God.

And what’s left?
Space. Stillness.
Enough peace to walk back into tomorrow with a little less noise,
and a little more presence for the people who need me most.

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Last Thought

The truth is, I don’t need a perfect night routine.
I just need enough peace to

stop the spin,

surrender the tabs,

and be the kind of dad who shows up rested instead of restless.