Every Second Counts…

I first heard it on The Bear. “Every second counts.”

And if you’ve seen that show, you know it’s not said like a motivational poster or a line from a Hallmark movie. It’s said in the middle of madness. In the heat. In the kitchen. When everything’s burning and boiling and someone’s yelling “corner!” like their life depends on it because, in that moment—it does.

“Every second counts.”

Not because time is running out in a dramatic, cinematic slow-motion sequence. But because in real life, shit moves fast. People you love walk out. Bodies break. Hearts crack. Dishes pile up. One second you’re fine, and the next you’re crying over a burnt grilled cheese wondering how you got here and whether there’s still time to become the kind of person who folds their laundry the same day they wash it.

But here’s the thing—there’s always that one second. That one breath. That one blink.

That counts.

It’s easy to get lost in the chaos. To think you need a whole year or a 10-step plan or a retreat in Sedona to change your life. But most of the time? It’s not that grand. It’s just one second.

The second you say no when you usually say yes.

The second you text someone “I miss you” instead of pretending you don’t feel anything.

The second you stay.

The second you walk away.

The second you catch yourself spiraling and say, not today.

I think about that scene in The Bear, the one where everything is barely holding together and yet somehow moving with this dysfunctional grace. The tension. The urgency. The humanity of it all. That’s life. We’re all in the weeds. We’re all yelling “behind!” and hoping someone hears us.

And yeah, we screw up. We forget to breathe. We drop the sauce. We break the plate.

But then—we choose the next second.

I used to think it had to be big. I used to wait for lightning bolts or clear signs or some well-meaning therapist to guide me gently into a revelation.

But turns out, most of the moments that have saved me were tiny.

A laugh in the middle of an argument.

A deep breath before I said something I couldn’t take back.

A stranger’s kindness.

A song at the right time.

The sound of my own feet on a long, lonely road I chose to walk for no other reason than it was finally time to walk toward myself.

Every second counts.

Not in a hustle-harder, time-is-money kind of way.

But in a life-is-fragile, love-is-worth-it, you-matter-even-when-you’re-a-mess kind of way.

You don’t have to get it all right. You don’t have to fix everything today.

But if you’re lucky enough to have this second—this one right here—you can do something with it.

You can choose peace.

You can start again.

You can put your hand on your heart and say, I’m still here.

And if you can do that… you’re already doing better than you think.

Because in the chaos, in the kitchen, in the grief, in the healing, in the daily mess of trying to live while everything keeps boiling over—

Every. Damn. Second. Counts.

Even this one.

Especially this one.

And if Carmy can make it through dinner service,

You can make it through today.