The Performance Trap
Why Overachievers Burn Out First (and How I’m Learning to Move Slower)
My body has been trying to get my attention all summer.
Not with a whisper. With a megaphone.
I’ve consumed more ginger ale (and ginger tea, ginger chews, peppermint tea, and Tums) in the last month than in the last year combined. My gut is not subtle—and for once, I’m trying to listen.
Because I’m easing back into work right now.
After five months away.
After the loss of my mom.
After caregiving, grieving, and trying to hold it all together in that quiet way that eldest daughters and strong friends and high performers tend to do.
My body is a wreck because I’m reentering what I lovingly call Back to Work™ season.
And I don’t want to ease in—I want to leap.
I want to inbox zero and catch up on Slack and post profound insights and batch content and overdeliver on everything, because that’s what I’ve always done.
But my gut—the literal one and the intuitive one—says: No, dearheart. Not this time.
So this post? It’s a message to you and to me.
A reminder that your very best today might move much slower than it did a year ago.
And that’s okay.
Let’s name the trap:
The performance trap is what happens when your self-worth gets tangled up in how much you can achieve, produce, fix, or hold for other people.
It shows up like this:
You say yes before checking your bandwidth. (Because you can handle it… but should you?)
You feel guilty for resting. (Even when you know it isn’t something earned.)
You wonder who you are when you’re not producing, posting, performing.
You crave gold stars for things that are slowly breaking you.
And the cruelest part?
You don’t always notice you’re in the trap until your body starts yelling.
Try This: What’s Your Body Trying to Tell You?
Grab a notebook and respond to this:
What has your body been trying to say to you lately?
What would it look like to listen before it screams?
No judgment. No pressure to act. Just notice.
Leadership that lasts—the kind that’s rooted, spacious, and human—starts with this noticing.
So if you’re in a season of reentry… or rebuilding… or reckoning with your own limits…
This is your permission slip to slow down.
Not because you’re falling behind—but because you’re honoring what’s real.
You’re allowed to show up whole, even if that version of you moves more gently than it used to.
I’m writing us a book.
It’s full of truths like this—about worth, work, rest, and the courage to lead from a place that’s deeply human. I’ll be sharing more soon (sign up for emails to hear it first!). For now, take a breath. You’re doing enough.
