The Morning I couldn’t Push Through

The other day, I woke up ready to start a new week. New day. Fresh energy.

At least, that’s what I expected, but something felt off.

I couldn’t name it at first. I went through the motions: coffee, desk, emails, task list.

But as I sat down to begin the work, I felt pressure building in my shoulders and back. My body felt heavy. My focus was thin. The motivation that usually comes easily to me felt distant.

And I did what many of us do: I pushed through.

Because pushing through is familiar.

I grew up working on a farm.

Work wasn’t optional. It wasn’t seasonal. It wasn’t mood-based.

It was expected.

By 14, I was already in the rhythm of showing up, grinding, moving, producing. I learned early that effort was valuable. Productivity was admirable. Endurance was strength.

And if I’m honest, I still carry that wiring. I burn the candle at both ends.

Not because I have to; because it feels natural, and because rest has always felt… volatile.

So, about halfway through my morning, my body began losing momentum.

Not laziness. Not distraction

But fatigue and dysregulation.

My nervous system was telling a story my calendar wasn’t acknowledging.

My shoulders were tight. My back was stiff. My brain was foggy. My energy was fading.

But instead of interpreting that as information, my first instinct was to override it. Because my brain was reminding me of all the deadlines, tasks, and upcoming things for which I need to be prepared.

That’s what high performers do. Until we can’t. And, I share this vulnerably.

Eventually, I had enough, and I walked out of my office and laid down on the couch with a weighted blanket, silence, stillness, then some food, and then more rest.

And here’s what’s wild: It worked.

Within an hour, my clarity began returning. Within two, my energy stabilized. Within three, I was feeling a little like myself again.

It’s almost embarrassing how basic the solution was: rest, fuel, pause. The very things we preach, but we resist. I am guilty, too, as you can see.

We talk about burnout like it’s always a systemic catastrophe. And sometimes it is.

But sometimes burnout starts in the micro-moments.

The days we ignore subtle fatigue. The mornings we override tension. The afternoons we treat hunger like weakness.

Our bodies are not obstacles. They are data systems. When we override them repeatedly, stress compounds quietly. Until one day it doesn’t feel quiet anymore.

There is a cultural lie that says: If you slow down, you lose momentum.

But what if the opposite is true?

What if strategic rest protects momentum? What if food stabilizes cognition? What if lying under a weighted blanket for twenty minutes prevents a two-week crash?

We celebrate discipline. But discipline without regulation becomes self-neglect.

For someone like me, rest doesn’t feel relaxing. It feels suspicious. It feels unproductive. It feels like I’m falling behind. But what I’m learning — and re-learning — is this: Kindness to yourself is not indulgence. It is maintenance. It is prevention. It is leadership.

Because if I expect people to regulate before reacting…

If I expect people to pause before escalating…

If I expect people to choose courage over comfort…

Then I have to model it. Even when it feels uncomfortable. Especially when it feels uncomfortable. That’s what I mean when I say I am being really vulnerable.

The real strength yesterday wasn’t pushing through. It was noticing. It was stepping away. It was allowing rest without shame.

High-capacity people don’t usually break because they’re incapable. They break because they never pause. And sometimes the most courageous leadership move isn’t doing more. Remember, you don’t need a title to lead.

If this resonates with you — if you’re someone who learned early that productivity equals worth — consider this your reminder:

Your nervous system is not weak. It’s wise.

So, ask yourself:

• what’s something your body is telling you that you’re ignoring?

• what’s something you’re avoiding because it’s uncomfortable?

• what’s something you can do to be kind to yourself and honor your rest?

Because, friend, sometimes the kindest thing you can do is listen before it has to shout.

Looking for a free brain reset to start? Click here.

If your organization is exploring ways to strengthen leadership culture, belonging, and sustainable performance, you can learn more about bringing the Science of Kindness to your team through workshops and keynotes.