I Didn't Think I Could Afford to Slow Down. I Was Wrong.

I'll be honest with you. For a long time, slowing down felt like a luxury I couldn't justify. First, my trigger was taking classes. Then, it was building my business. Now, it’s the fallout from what’s happening socially and politically that has been affecting me and those around me.

Triggers that I can’t stop pushing are all around me. Not with everything happening out there. Not with prices doing what they're doing. Not with the news cycle running like a slow drip of dread I can't quite turn off. Every time I thought about doing something just for me, whether it be getting a massage, taking a class, or giving myself an hour of actual quiet, something in me says, “You don't have time for that. You don't have the money for that. The world needs you to be functional. You can feel later.”

So I have kept going. And going. And somewhere along the way, I’ve begun to recognize that at times, I can’t tell the difference between getting through the day and actually living it. Can you relate?

Here's what I’ve begun to embrace: the exhaustion I often feel isn't just mine. It’s collective. The grief, anger, and confusion are too.

When you're paying close attention to everything that's happening to your community, to rights that feel suddenly less certain, to a financial landscape that keeps shifting, your nervous system doesn't file that away neatly. It registers a threat. It braces. It holds. And it doesn't stop holding just because you need or want it to.

The tight belly. The jaw you clench in your sleep. The elevated cortisol levels that interrupt your sleep. The short fuse that surprises even you when you feel the slightest bit of provocation. That's not weakness. That's your body being exquisitely honest about the moment you're living in.

What I have found, including a fair amount of resistance, followed by a dollop of compassion and grace, is that tending to myself isn't an escape from everything happening in the world. It is the only way I can stay inside it without losing myself completely.

If you are running on empty, you are trying to help from depletion. You are giving from a bucket that's already cracked.

And the world doesn't need more of that from us. It needs us to be rooted, grounded, honest, and present.

If you're feeling the weight of all parts of life — the personal stuff, the collective stuff, the financial pressure, the low hum of anxiety that won't quite leave — you don't have to wait for things to calm down before you're allowed to come home to yourself.

You're allowed now. Especially now.

If something in this landed somewhere in you, I'd love to hear about it. And if you want support finding your way back to yourself — in the middle of all of it, not after — I'm here.