Ever feel like you’re bone-tired, but somehow still pushing, striving, performing? I’m not talking about the kind of tiredness that a good night’s sleep fixes. I’m talking about the exhaustion that seeps into your bones — the kind that makes everything feel heavy, disconnected, and numb.
So many of us think we’re simply bad at keeping up. We wonder why we can’t handle what everyone else seems to juggle.
But here’s the truth: exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s the cost of constantly proving you’re enough.
The Hidden Cost of Performing
From a young age, many of us learned that our value comes from what we do—not who we are. Maybe, like me, you grew up feeling like you had to be the best. The smartest. The most helpful. The most accommodating.
We become experts at:
✅ Sensing what others want and delivering it.
✅ Swallowing our feelings to keep the peace.
✅ Hustling for approval, praise, or belonging.
✅ Swallowing our feelings to keep the peace.
✅ Hustling for approval, praise, or belonging.
And slowly… we lose touch with ourselves.
Because while we’re busy performing, we’re silently asking:
“Am I enough yet?”
Exhaustion as a Warning Sign
Exhaustion isn’t just about having too much on your calendar.
It’s your body’s way of saying:
“This isn’t sustainable.”
“I’m carrying too much.”
“I’m not being true to myself.”
“I’m carrying too much.”
“I’m not being true to myself.”
t’s the silent cost of constantly striving to prove your worth. And here’s the thing: You were enough before you ever achieved a single thing.
The Weight We Carry
We tell ourselves stories like:
- “If I just try harder, they’ll love me.”
- “If I’m successful enough, I’ll finally feel worthy.”
- “If I’m perfect, no one can reject me.”
But that treadmill never stops. No matter how much you do, the feeling of “not enough” keeps you running. And over time, your body shuts down. You feel numb, disconnected, or completely drained.
An Invitation to Step Off the Treadmill
If you’re feeling exhausted and empty, it’s not because you’re weak. It’s because you’ve been performing for far too long.
It’s time to remember:
✨ You don’t have to hustle to deserve rest.
✨ You don’t have to prove your worth.
✨ You were enough before you ever achieved a single thing.
✨ You don’t have to prove your worth.
✨ You were enough before you ever achieved a single thing.
Imagine living from a place where your value is non-negotiable. Where rest isn’t a reward you have to earn—but your birthright.
A Gentle Next Step
Pause for a moment and ask yourself:
“Where in my life am I still trying to prove I’m enough?”
Even noticing this is powerful. Awareness is the first step toward change. Because exhaustion doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re ready to live differently.
Final Thoughts
You deserve a life where you’re deeply nourished, not drained. A life where your worth is not measured by how much you produce, but by the simple fact that you exist.
And trust me—that version of you is still there. Waiting. Ready. Enough.
Check out the Full Podcast Video here:
Let me ask you something real:
If no one was watching… who the hell would you be?
Not the “nice girl.”
Not the peacekeeper.
Not the woman who swallows her words to keep the room calm.
Not the peacekeeper.
Not the woman who swallows her words to keep the room calm.
The real you.
Because the truth is, most of us are exhausted. And not from life itself, but from performing in it.
👑 My Story: Queen of People-Pleasing
Let me tell you mine. I wasn’t just a people-pleaser, I wore the damn crown. 👑
It started when I was eight. Already being told I was “too much,” “too loud,” “too desperate” just for wanting to belong. So I learned to shrink. To dim my light. To twist myself into whatever version would keep me safe and liked.
But guess what? The real me kept leaking through. I’d try to fit in, and the kids would bail. New friends, same pattern.
And here’s the kicker:
The people who liked me for me? I didn’t want them. I wanted the ones who made me feel like I had to earn my place.
Growing up in a small town didn’t help. Cliques ran deep. Gossip was the local sport. I loved the town, but some of the people? Not so much. And spoiler alert: A lot of them didn’t grow out of it.
High school was brutal. I had a few good friends, but also plenty who weren’t. And even when I was getting bullied, I kept showing up, trying to belong. The real ones stayed. Amy, you know who you are. You’ve loved me exactly as I am.
College? Same pattern, different campus. Trying to forge deep friendships while hiding half of who I was. Shoutout to Meredith, another ride-or-die who always saw me.
Even as an adult, back in my hometown, the cliques were still there. Same whispers. Same judgment. I volunteered my time, my energy—and felt invisible. It took moving out of state to finally learn:
My people would come when I was finally willing to show up as myself.
Now, my circle is small—and chosen. I keep people close who make me better. And I hope I do the same for them.
💣 The High Cost of Performing
Here’s what all that performing cost me:
- Smiling when I wanted to scream.
- Saying yes when my body was begging for a no.
- Making sure everyone else was happy so I could pretend I was too.
I thought being easy to love meant being easy to swallow.
That if I kept everyone else comfortable, I’d finally feel safe.
That if I kept everyone else comfortable, I’d finally feel safe.
But the truth?
All it did was disconnect me—from my voice, my body, and my f*cking soul.
🧠The Body Doesn’t Lie… But It Does Protect
So how do we stop performing? We stop outsourcing our truth and we get in the damn body.
Because here’s the thing:
Your body doesn’t lie, but she does protect. She’s not betraying you, she’s been guarding you. Every clench, every ache, every frozen smile is her waving a red flag:
“Hey babe, this isn’t safe. This isn’t truth. This isn’t you.”
Your body doesn’t people-please. She doesn’t perform. She reacts. She resists. She remembers. The trauma living in your body isn’t random. It’s not weakness. It’s your nervous system doing its job—keeping you safe.
- That tight throat when you try to speak your truth?
That’s the echo of being shut down. - That locked jaw in your “nice girl” smile?
That’s muscle memory from pretending you were okay. - That pit in your stomach when you swallow your no?
That’s your body remembering how it felt to be rejected.
Your body is not the problem. She’s the messenger. She’s been screaming your truth underneath your performance this whole damn time. When I finally started listening to her? Everything changed.
🔥 The Way Home: 2% at a Time
You don’t have to blow up your life to be authentic. You don’t have to burn it all down. You just need to come home—2% at a time.
Here’s how you start:
- Say one thing this week that you’ve been holding back.
- Let your laugh be messy and loud.
- Wear what feels like YOU, not what fits the room.
- Take a sacred pause before you respond—check in, not check out.
- Let your no be a full sentence. No backup plan. No softening.
Authenticity isn’t some polished persona. It’s raw. It’s wild. It’s YOU.
Unfiltered. Unapologetic. Undeniably whole.
✨ Journal Prompt
If this lands for you, here’s your journal prompt for the week:
Where in my body do I still carry the fear of being too much, not enough, or not accepted?
What would it feel like to let that part of me know: “You’re safe now. You don’t have to perform anymore”?
💎 Final Truth
You don’t have to earn your place by shrinking. You don’t have to perform to be loved. You’re already worthy. Already enough. Already divine.
And the most magnetic, empowered, holy version of you? Is the one who finally lets herself be seen.
✨ Affirmation: I get to be fully me and deeply loved.
If this resonated, share it with the woman in your life who’s ready to drop the mask and come home to herself.
Until next time…
Stay embodied. Stay radiant. Stay real as f*ck.
See the Full Podcast Video here:
Hey beautiful souls,
Can I just say something really quick (and real)?
Fear will have you playing small and calling it “safety.”
But deep down—you know.
You were never meant to shrink.
You were never meant to shrink.
And maybe, like me, you've been shrinking for so long, you forgot what expansion even feels like.
Not anymore.
Not anymore.
Welcome back to Embodied Living—the space where we get real, raw, and radiant as ever.
Over the next 6 weeks, we’re diving into the core themes of the Embodied Living journey—and today we’re starting with a big one: Fear.
Why not begin with the one thing that most shapes how we show up, hold back, or hide—and we may not even realize it’s running the show.
I’m not just talking about big, loud, scream-in-a-pillow fear. I’m talking about the quiet, sneaky kind:
I’m not just talking about big, loud, scream-in-a-pillow fear. I’m talking about the quiet, sneaky kind:
- Fear of being seen.
- Fear of taking up space.
- Fear of doing life your way.
- Fear of being judged, misunderstood, or, let’s be real, abandoned.
Who’s felt this?
(Go ahead and nod. I see you.)
(Go ahead and nod. I see you.)
My Own Fear Story
Fear ran the show in my life for a long, long time. Not with dramatic meltdowns (though I’ve had my moments). But in micro-moments.
- The pause before I spoke up.
- The apologizing for simply existing.
- The rehearsed laughter that was quieter than my joy.
- The way I edited myself into something more "acceptable."
One of my deepest fears? That I was “too much.” Too loud. Too emotional. Too intense. Too everything.
So I shrank. I muted my laugh, held back my humor (even though it’s one of my superpowers). I overthought every word before I said it. Why? Because I believed being liked mattered more than being me.
But here's the thing: I didn’t even like myself that much while doing all that. Because I was constantly abandoning me—for them.
The Real Shift
Everything changed when I started coming back into my body.
When I let myself laugh loudly, because dammit, life is funny.
When I danced in my kitchen and on the sidewalk.
When I stopped filtering my truth and started living it.
When I danced in my kitchen and on the sidewalk.
When I stopped filtering my truth and started living it.
Not with defensiveness, but with clarity. With love. With truth.
That’s when I felt safe again. That’s when I felt me again.
Fear Isn’t Just a Mindset—It’s a Sensation
Fear doesn’t always shout. Sometimes, it just sits in your chest, tightening up your breath before you post something vulnerable. Or curls in your belly before you enter a room and wonder if people are judging. It’s the breath you hold before you speak your truth.
That’s not brokenness. That’s your nervous system saying, “This doesn’t feel safe yet.”
Most of us were taught: Fear = Protection. Something happened, and your body made a deal with your younger self: “Stay small. Stay safe.” And it worked… for a while.
But now? You’re a grown-ass woman with wisdom, fire, and purpose. And that deal? It's expired.
But now? You’re a grown-ass woman with wisdom, fire, and purpose. And that deal? It's expired.
The Sneaky Ways We Stay Small
Let’s name some of them—see if these sound familiar:
- Soften your truths to avoid conflict
- Apologize for your joy, your laughter, your ideas
- Ask for less than you need (love, rest, respect)
- Tame your pleasure, your weirdness, your edge
- Overexplain (hello, trauma response)
- Stay in relationships or roles that don’t reflect who you are—just to keep the peace
We’ve been trained to be “good.” But babe, you weren’t born to be good. You were born to be whole. And wholeness? It’s messy. Radiant. Expressive. Wild. Tender. Sacred. Grounded. It’s all of it. And it’s yours.
What To Do When Fear Shows Up
Not trying to bulldoze it. Not trying to silence it. We work with it.
We remind our body, “It’s safe now.” Try this next time you feel fear rising:
- Inhale through the nose for 4 seconds
- Hold for 4
- Exhale through the mouth for 6
- Say aloud: “I am safe in my body. I can trust myself.”
- Repeat it. Until your body believes it.
Anchor it in your chest. Your throat. Your solar plexus. Let it root.
Soul Work: Journal Prompt for the Week
What am I afraid would happen if I fully trusted myself?
Go deep. Let your truth speak. What would happen if you stopped shrinking? Stopped performing? Stopped explaining your damn self?
What would be possible if you let your real self breathe?
Let this be your invitation into the depths. And if fear rises again? Come back to your breath. Ground in your truth.
Final Words, Beautiful
You’re not here to live behind a filter. You’re not here to play small for the comfort of others. You’re here to expand.
To feel the fear and still move forward. To honor your softness and your fire.
To feel the fear and still move forward. To honor your softness and your fire.
Let this land:
You are not broken. You are not behind. You are a powerful woman remembering who the fuck she is, one breath at a time. You are right where you’re supposed to be.
And I’m right here with you.
💖 This Week’s Affirmation:
“I can feel fear and still choose my truth.”
Say it out loud. Say it until it becomes your knowing.
Say it out loud. Say it until it becomes your knowing.
If this post cracked something open in you, share it. Send it to a friend, a sister, a mama, a fellow wild woman who needs to hear it. Let’s spread the ripple.
Until next time—
Stay embodied. Stay radiant. Stay you.
Stay embodied. Stay radiant. Stay you.
And remember:
Pleasure is your friend.
Pleasure is your friend.
