I am a mental health educator and clinician, who works at the intersection of mental health and performance. I specialize in the complicated ways that mental health drives performance and how it shows up at work. I am a former practicing corporate and securities lawyer and hold a Master’s degree in Counseling Psychology from the University of St. Thomas (Minnesota) and a Juris Doctor from the University of Toronto, Faculty of Law. My core values are learning and kindness.

Kara Hardin

I became a coach while I was still practicing law.

It started with a bookshelf when I was articling. A fellow PLTCer (the bar admission course for BC) looked at my books and said, "So, you really like self-help books." I did. I still do. Without realizing it, I was already dabbling.

Over time, I added small things. A coaching course. Then practice conversations with friends of friends. Then clients, scheduled around corporate and securities work (stressful, but fine). Then, graduate school as a non-practicing member of the bar, to: therapist, entrepreneur (with a baddie profile pic), and writer.

No life explosion required, at least not for me. 

I'm a dabbler. That's how I do everything, professionally, creatively, personally. Low stakes entry, no apology, see what happens. It's not the most efficient approach. It's not the boldest. But it's mine, and because it's mine, I actually do it.

Here's what I've learned watching people navigate big changes:

Dabblers need to dabble. 
Planners need to research until they're ready. 
Leapers need to jump and feel alive doing it.

The transition strategy that works isn't the one that looks best on paper. It's not the one the expert (me included) tells you worked for them. 

It's the one that's consistent with who you actually are.

Are you a dabbler, a planner, or a leaper... and are you actually letting yourself grow consistent with that preference?

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Founder

Registered Psychotherapist

Certified Professional Co-Active Coach

Principal

Mental Health Practitioner

Helping high performers make sense of work | Founder of The Practice Lab | Psychotherapist & Speaker

I was walking downtown with a friend between meetings on a grey, gross day when she said something about her burnout that stopped me in my tracks. 

Literally: I had to stop walking. I put my hands on my temples to help my brain process her clarity. I even took a picture to mark the moment of her genius.

After listening to all the ins and outs of her days (the demands from her teenagers, clients, her emotionally less mature and physically more needy parents, the latest parent council drama at her school, her take on the news), I said offhandedly and sort of reflexively, "I wish you could just take a break from it all."

It was at this point that my friend reorganized my insides. Without skipping a beat, she quipped:

"I don't need a break. What I need is predictability and reliability.

I need to wake up without having to deal with a sick kid, a broke-down subway car, an injured relative, a friend in crisis, a country in crisis, or a client emergency. 

I need a series of days to go simply as I've planned. If I could have predictability, if I could rely on the plans I take pains to carefully make, I would be okay right now."

Brilliant and insightful. The science backs her up. When our days are unpredictable, our nervous system stays on high alert, preventing the very recovery we so desperately need. Sometimes it's not about having less to do, but about having things unfold in straightforward ways that align with the plans we've made.

TLDR: If you are struggling with burnout, consider the amount of unpredictability in your life. How often are you having to revisit logistics that were already settled? Reorganize your day? Know that you make sense.

And... if, like my friend, you are in a stage of life where the unpredictability is, well, predictably present, then here is my question for you (which was the same question I asked my powerful, wise friend): if your days can't be predictable, what is the next best thing?

Last week, I got an email that made me leap from my chair and punch the air. (It looked as athletic in real life as I am sure it did in my head).

My son and I are reading a James Ponti series, and had put the third and final book (Trapped!) on hold at the library. We had been waiting about a week, and weren't expecting it for another 2 or 3. Then, we got the email. Our book, had arrived.

It got me thinking about all the things we can wait for in life, that make our days more joyful:

The honey cake my mom makes on Rosh Hashanah.

Stevie Wonder (I just called to say I love you) taking over the radio (and my entire being).

The return of the Habs this Thursday. (The next Olympics!)

The visceral feeling of Spring springing, when you realize the days are getting longer and the birds are starting to chirp close by again.

We are living in a world that seems to be removing the wait wherever possible. Everything aspires to be smooth, fast, and on demand. It's so convenient. 

It's also so much work. The pressure to make things happen because we can, or we believe we should. It's absconding us even from sweet, positive anticipation, even when the pleasure of looking forward to something is more intense and sustained than the pleasure of actually experiencing it. What if the wait, sometimes, is the point?

What is something in your life that you love waiting to enjoy?

Author

This morning, my daughter was very upset. She woke up, and I wasn't home. I had left for the gym (quite early, go me!), and as a result she wasn't going to see me until after school.

When I saw her at pick-up, the first thing she told me was how sad she was when she woke up and realized I wasn't home. 

I am not parent of the year, nor am I a parenting expert. I am someone who works with high achievers who fear letting others down and spend their lives feeling guilty for taking up space.

Here's what I said, to my disappointed (phenomenal) 6-year-old:

"Maya, it was hard that I wasn't there when you expected me to be. You felt sad. That makes so much sense." 

(Normalize.)

"You are very important to me, and I love the time we spend together. I also love moving and taking care of my body. Part of me wanted to be with you, and another part of me was so excited to be lifting heavy weights. There are lots of different parts of me, just like there are lots of different parts of you." 

(Introduce the idea that people are parts)

"There's the part of you that woke up and wanted to snuggle all day with me, and also the part that wanted go to school to see Mme. M and do crafts, and the part that wants to spend all her time doing gymnastics" 

(Make it clear how she has parts)

"Not all the different parts of us get what they want. This morning, the parts of us that love to be together were sad. That happens sometimes. Not because I did something wrong by going to the gym, but because it's a part of life. Nobody did anything bad. You made sense for being sad. I made sense for choosing to exercise." 

(Explain and model how we both take up space while making sense, without blame.)

"I love you and am so glad you told me about this morning." 

(Validation again... followed by a slime project later that evening that all of the parts of me regretted immediately.)

Throughout the conversation, I was telling myself: My choices have consequences. I am not in control of how Maya feels. I can help her understand her feelings and how they make sense, process them, and make space for the bigger picture so that when she makes choices that prioritize her needs, she knows it's ok to do so and how to do it respectfully, with kindness. 

TLDR: Handling disappointment is a skill that we learn. Who were your teachers, and what were your lessons?

I've been up and getting myself downstairs by 5:30 a.m. most days, so you know I'm upto something that’s exciting me.

When the house is quiet, I sneak down into my kitchen for a cup of coffee and some pacing. It's too dark to walk outside, and frankly, still way too cold, but I know my brain thinks best when I am walking. So, I embrace it.

I don't bring my computer or a notebook. I pace around my 5x5 kitchen (in what must look like a strange pattern) and take notes on my fridge as my thoughts crystallize, and my ideas form. Just my body and me, pacing, and a magentic whiteboard that was created as a calendar.

It looks unhinged. It works for me, though.

We don't get our best ideas sitting still, staring at a screen, waiting for clarity to arrive. The brain does its most generative work when the body is engaged, whether that's on a walk, in the shower, or in my case, slowly pacing a repetitive loop in a kitchen before the sun rises.

I've learned to stop fighting my idiosyncrasies, to embrace how my mind works, and to start building habits and processes around it. Early mornings. Motion. Bad handwriting on a magnetic surface. 

You probably already know how your mind works best, too. What's your version of pacing the kitchen?

For the first time since I was pregnant, over 9 years ago, I can rely on having regular sleep at night. 

(I am QUITE concerned that by publishing this post, I am jinxing myself. Please know I am invoking all of the superstitious protections you can imagine as you read on.)

For years, I would spontaneously offer anyone in my inner circle this unsolicited statement of being: "I'm just so tired." 

My bones felt weary, my eyelids were constantly heavy, I battled headaches, irritability, lack of patience and perspective. I was exhausted all the time.

It wasn't always my kids or pregnancy that was waking me up and keeping me awake. There was COVID, my dad being sick, Maple (our dog) jumping on and off the bed, work stress, social conundrums, great ideas, fanciful imaginings, and knotty financial concerns. Life was life-ing, and my body wasn't able to reliably shift from alert to restore as a result.

I tried all the hacks. All the routines. Two things helped:

(1) I started to minimize (to the extent I could) the stress my body brought with it to bed. 

When you bring stress to bed, stress keeps you awake. 

It's not just thoughts; it's the stress your body accumulates and carries into bed, from the past hours, days, weeks, months, and years... 

Ways to minimize bringing stress to bed: be a human during the day (laugh, cry, feel the feels, move, listen to music that makes you sway, get lost in a great story, write about what you experience, lift heavy things, allow yourself to metabolize what is hard as you are experiencing it in the ways you know work for you).

(2) My context changed 

My kids got older, COVID got less scary as medical advances surged, my Dad and Dog (sadly, passed from this life), I repaired and parried the social situations that were fraught, and found ways through the financial and work troubles that were loud. 

My context will change again (I see you, Menopause, and yes, you do intimidate me), so it's about leaning into #1 as best I can, when I can.

What do you do to release stress and ready your body for sleep?

PS - I have a great audio I recorded to help you transition from the day, once you are lying on your pillow, and more ideas on metabolizing stress, that I'll link in the comments.

And now, for a prodigious list of just some my more memorable mistakes:

A 70-page legal memo for a litigation matter that cited one and only one case (in the very last paragraph, only two lines).

A one-sentence email to opposing counsel that read: "Dear X, Is this how you practice law in the Netherlands? Thanks, Kara"

Booking my family tickets to my graduation. Wrong date. Wrong year.

Introducing myself to the same person. Four times. (This one is so rude and utterly inexcusable. I can say 3 meetings were on Zoom with many others also on, I can't say it changes much though.)

The typos, the post with a grammar mistake, registering the wrong account number, the proposal with a typo, the email to the wrong person...

Don’t even get me started on all the elementary mistakes I made while trying to cut Maple's hair when I didn't know I was pregnant (aka hormonal) and was VERY insistent I could groom her MYSELF. 

We all make mistakes. Constantly. And yet most of us are still shaken, sometimes devastated, when they happen. Even the small ones.

Here's why: mistakes don't just challenge your sense of competence. They confront us with a harsh question: Can I be wrong and still belong?

When your sense of security and belonging are tied to being perceived as capable (by others, whom you cannot control), even a small typo is threatening.

So the next time a mistake has you spiralling, try separating two things:

The fact: what actually happened.

The meaning: what you've decided it says about you.

Then ask yourself: if I knew I was still worthy, capable, and belonged, how would I think about this differently?

What's a mistake you're still being harder on yourself about than the situation deserves?

I dare you to tell me the story of how you lead.

Where does it start, do you think?

Please allow this photographic evidence (of my son and husband walking completely adorably) to illustrate how we absorb the habits and tendencies of those who lead us ... in our earliest years.

I know childhood stuff isn't easy, that for many high performers it borders on "touchy-feely", and that the tendency is to focus only on our behaviours because the rest is too personal and not fit for workplace discussion. I also know, that insight leads to impact. 

If you keep getting the same feedback, keep finding yourself in the same troubles, and keep struggling to make changes you care about, it might help to explore your childhood experiences and how they are impacting how you strive as an adult.

Highlight: having an Oprah moment and surprising 2 attendees with books under their chairs!!!! 

Important discussion topics included: Do you give gifts that are practical (that serve a purpose) or romantic (aim to delight)? 

[No right or wrong answer, it turns out delight lives in the silly, funny preferences we have and the process of sharing them with others.]

Family Law Lawyer at McCarthy Hansen & Company

What a great lunch hour we had with Kara Hardin !
 
Such freedom in joking and reflecting on our daily lives at work, talking to each other about not work, not pushing joy to "when X happens". Felt lighter after.

If you're in Toronto and can help our little (not little) school - see below!

General Manager / Chief Growth Officer - The Practice Lab. World’s Biggest Candy Cane Ice Cream Fan

Toronto people - I need your help.


Our community school has a fundraiser coming up at the end of the year, and some new school board guidelines are making fundraising extremely restrictive.

So. I'm hoping we can find some wonderful businesses in the city to showcase through HIGH-VALUE community sponsorships.

We can get very creative and make this a very fun way for you to showcase your awesome brand at a massive (JK-Grade 8) school in the heart of Central Toronto.

Maybe you're in a band and you want to perform?

Maybe you know a band, and they want to perform?

Help provide new materials for students.

Send the graduating class on a grad trip.

Help make the job of school administration and teachers just a tad bit easier.

Going to cross my fingers and tag some businesses in the comments to see if we can built some momentum here....

The Practice Lab - now in U9 Baseball form.....

So why did you decide to start your business?

It's a question I get asked frequently when chatting with either a prospective client, or someone who is interested in entrepreneurship.

And the answer is pretty simple:

So that I could sponsor my son's U9 House League Baseball team.

Happy to support Toronto Playgrounds Baseball Association this summer, and finally have a reason to toss our logo on some sports swag.

Goooooooooo Team The Practice Lab.....Practicers? Labbers?

Go team.

Highlight: having an Oprah moment and surprising 2 attendees with books under their chairs!!!! 

Follow-up question: do you give gifts that are practical (that serve a purpose) or romantic (aim to delight)? No right or wrong answer, it turns out delight lives in the silly, funny preferences we have.

View company: McCarthy Hansen & Company LLP

Grateful to welcome the incredible Kara Hardin back to our firm, this time exploring how to find delight in complicated times. A timely reminder that even when the world feels heavy, there’s still joy in the work - and in each other!

You can grow up and move out, and still be driven by what you learned was true about you and the world as a child.

Our early years shape the beliefs and behaviours we have about what is responsibility, our worthiness and security. These beliefs and behaviours operate automatically, and largely outside of our awareness, as adults. 

How you handle mistakes
Your willingness to say no (and what happens in your body if you do)
Whether you take a break for lunch
How compelled do you feel to wear make-up?
To go for the promotion?
Accepting feedback
Sharing your ideas
Competing or collaborating
Gossip
Developing new competencies
Articulating and navigating disagreement

Our sense of self grows from our deepest beliefs, which essentially, we learn by osmosis before we have any idea what's happening. It's automatic. 

As always, gratitude to Oliver Burkeman for his incisive articulation.

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