07/14/2026
I almost didn't post this. I wanted to post this Friday but I couldn't. My energy barely covered my baseline. Because of perfectionism, it was better in my mind to just not post it than to post it late. But here it is, late and in all its glory because I practice what I preach. My body needed those days to rest and that's okay.
I've talked about building your baseline, your “foundation”, if you will. But eventually, you're going to want to start adding the "extras" back in.
And honestly, this is the hardest part. My brain wants to do all the things. I want to post every day, I want to create different packages, I want to jump back in at full speed. But the hard truth is: I can't. Not if I don't want to end up burnt out again.
If I want this to be sustainable, it has to be built incredibly slowly. You can slap a wooden frame together in an afternoon, or you can carefully cut, measure, level, and reinforce every piece of lumber so that the structure actually lasts. Just as you have to wait for a concrete foundation to set completely before you build on it, you have to be so careful when adding weight to your daily routine.
We always hear the advice to "take baby steps." But when your nervous system is easily overwhelmed, most people’s version of a baby step is still too much.
When I decided I was ready to add work back in, I didn’t set a goal to crush a two-hour block. I set a goal to work for five minutes. And getting from five minutes a day to just fifteen minutes wasn't overnight. It took weeks.
To make that jump without breaking the frame, I had to completely change how I measured success. I had to commit entirely to the “attempt” rather than the “outcome”.
That meant I sat down to do the work, but if my brain fought it or the heavy fatigue set in, I didn't push through it. I stopped, closed the laptop, and walked away. The win was simply showing up and honoring my body's "no." The attempt itself was the goal.
By removing the pressure of the outcome, my body stayed safe. And because it stayed safe, those five minutes eventually, naturally, stretched into fifteen. It wasn't about pushing harder; it was about building so meticulously that my nervous system didn't even notice the extra weight.
I almost didn't post this. I wanted to post this Friday but I couldn't. My energy barely covered my baseline. Because of perfectionism, it was better in my mind to just not post it than to post it late. But here it is, late and in all its glory because I practice what I preach. My body needed those days to rest and that's okay.
I've talked about building your baseline, your “foundation”, if you will. But eventually, you're going to want to start adding the "extras" back in.
And honestly, this is the hardest part. My brain wants to do all the things. I want to post every day, I want to create different packages, I want to jump back in at full speed. But the hard truth is: I can't. Not if I don't want to end up burnt out again.
If I want this to be sustainable, it has to be built incredibly slowly. You can slap a wooden frame together in an afternoon, or you can carefully cut, measure, level, and reinforce every piece of lumber so that the structure actually lasts. Just as you have to wait for a concrete foundation to set completely before you build on it, you have to be so careful when adding weight to your daily routine.
We always hear the advice to "take baby steps." But when your nervous system is easily overwhelmed, most people’s version of a baby step is still too much.
When I decided I was ready to add work back in, I didn’t set a goal to crush a two-hour block. I set a goal to work for five minutes. And getting from five minutes a day to just fifteen minutes wasn't overnight. It took weeks.
To make that jump without breaking the frame, I had to completely change how I measured success. I had to commit entirely to the “attempt” rather than the “outcome”.
That meant I sat down to do the work, but if my brain fought it or the heavy fatigue set in, I didn't push through it. I stopped, closed the laptop, and walked away. The win was simply showing up and honoring my body's "no." The attempt itself was the goal.
By removing the pressure of the outcome, my body stayed safe. And because it stayed safe, those five minutes eventually, naturally, stretched into fifteen. It wasn't about pushing harder; it was about building so meticulously that my nervous system didn't even notice the extra weight.
