When excitement becomes pressure
It’s 6:30 AM, and now that it’s fall, the sun takes its time rising, so my mornings have begun in complete darkness. I turn on a few warm lights and begin my morning routine. This routine has been a grounding force at the start of my days, and yet this morning feels different. Something doesn’t feel quite right.
I drink my water on the balcony, taking in the stillness before everything comes alive and breathing in the freshness of the west coast air. Even in the heart of the city, it’s still fresh. I notice the change in how I am feeling, but it isn’t until I sit down to meditate that I recognize the real shift.
I settle onto my plush meditation pillow and begin my usual ten-minute-ish practice, focusing on my breath and letting the words guide me, setting the tone for my day. But instead of dropping in and finding that familiar sense of presence, I’m feeling restless; I can’t quite seem to settle. I keep opening my eyes and reaching for my phone, like an itch that I can’t seem to leave alone.
Instead of being present, my mind is racing through everything I want to do, everything I need to do, and then the correction: everything I should have done already.
I finish my meditation and move onto some light yoga, feeling even more worked up, almost itching to skip this whole routine and just get at it. I even catch myself unconsciously heading to my desk to start working instead of getting my mat. And I am not going to lie, my yoga flow, which normally feels so good for my body, suddenly feels annoying, almost in the way of everything that needs to be done.
I notice the tightness in my chest, a bit of panic, the pressurized feeling in my head and ears, my neck and shoulders tightening. I’m bracing myself, feeling tired but wired, and beginning to recognize the fear underneath it all: if I don’t capitalize on this fresh energy, this feeling of being creative, organized, and on it, and get everything done while I have the energy to do it, I’ll fall even further behind than my mind is already telling me I am in this moment.
And that’s when the stories in my mind begin:
I’m never going to be able to catch up
I’m never going to be able to do this all by myself
I’m supposed to be a leader. Why am I not leading myself more effectively? Why didn’t I do this all earlier?
The strange thing is that I’d actually been in a great flow with my work and life. Everything had been feeling relatively effortless. I wasn’t putting pressure on myself; I was moving forward in a way that felt good while still accomplishing what I wanted to get done. I’d set an intention for myself to tap into my creativity and share my work in a way that felt creative and inspiring this Fall, and I’d started doing exactly that. It felt great. I had this new found energy, mixed with the freshness and excitement of September and this season.
And yet, here I was, living inside the pressure cooker.
I’d just moved from downward dog to plank when the realization set in. I’d gone from feeling genuinely excited about the work I was doing to feeling like I was behind, that I should have done more, that I needed to catch up. Something that had been fun and fueling me, a creative pursuit I’d chosen for this season, had somehow been turned upside down. What had initially felt exciting, clear, simple suddenly had to be five times bigger, better than I originally intended.
The funny thing was, nothing was technically urgent. The deadlines were my own. I work for myself, and these were things I genuinely wanted to do, things that lit me up. Yet somehow, the urgency to catch up had crept in.
The ironic part? I’d just written about the particular kind of pressure that can come with Fall in my last article, The Season After More. And here I was, just days after hitting publish, experiencing the very thing I’d been writing about and encouraging other women to approach differently.
I’d caught myself in the moment those thoughts entered my mind, shifting from downward dog to plank, realizing that I was turning Fall into another performance season despite having just given myself permission not to. Despite telling other women they didn’t have to, either.
I had been telling other women that fall doesn’t have to become another season of pressure, productivity, urgency, and proving. And yet here I was, doing exactly that.
Oh, I’m in the pressure cooker.
The next morning, I was chatting with my husband about how I realized I was overdoing it, trying to fit a year’s worth of work into a couple of months and carrying the feeling that I was already behind. At some point in that conversation, I said, “Oh I’m here. I’ve entered the pressure cooker.”
My husband and I use this phrase often when we realize we’ve turned up the dial on ourselves. It always makes us laugh, and it’s a good reminder that we can leave the pressure cooker at any time. We don’t have to stay in that pressurized feeling or allow the stories that come with it, about having to be perfect, doing it all, or being behind, to dictate how we move through our lives. And we don’t have to put even more pressure on ourselves by beating ourselves up when we do inevitably find ourselves here.
I knew that this wasn’t how I wanted to move through this season, so I did what I know tends to bring me back to myself when I’m in the pressure cooker: I took an everything shower.
This is often where I find my biggest moments of clarity, the resolutions and downloads that seem to arrive when I’m finally giving myself space. Walking in nature, cooking, and moving my body all provided the same feeling.
As I gave myself that space, I realized something important: yes, I was overwhelmed, and yes, I was facing a challenge, but I love to resolve things. I’m very good at finding resolutions, and I do it quite naturally in my work and for other people, so why couldn’t I bring that same ability to myself, to my own inner state and the way I was approaching things?
I didn’t need to treat the overwhelm as evidence that I needed to work harder. Instead, I could treat it as information.
I could pause, remove what wasn’t necessary, reframe the situation, rearrange my priorities, and move forward with more ease and in a way that felt more like me. I didn’t need to avoid the discomfort of what I was feeling, either. I could make room for it, understand what it was telling me, and work with it rather than against it.
Getting back to what was exciting me in the first place
What I actually changed was my approach to the situation and to my work. I reminded myself that I didn’t have to do everything right now, in this very moment, and that it was okay to let things take the time they needed. I brought myself back to what had been exciting me in the first place: being the writer behind the desk, creating, writing, letting things pour out of me, and enjoying the process of creation.
I realized that things could be delayed or put off, expectations could be rearranged, and I could focus on the task at hand for that day or week rather than trying to somehow make the entire future happen immediately.
And the thing is, when you’re capable and have a vision, you can get a LOT of things done, but do you need to? Should you? Do you have to do it with urgency or can you do it with intention? And do you need to do it all alone or can you delegate and allow yourself to be supported?
The shift wasn’t, Okay, now I need a better productivity system or I need to optimize on this energy.
It was much more: I don’t have to make everything happen right away in order for this to be working, and working well.
I could get back to enjoying my work, my life, and the other things that matter to me while still moving forward.
Because I had been enjoying it. The pressure had almost been like an immediate switch, like an old friend that popped up out of the blue and took me back to an old world I’d once lived in. It happened so quickly that I almost didn’t notice it at first, because the feeling was so familiar. And that, perhaps, was part of what made it so easy to slip back into.
When excitement becomes pressure
It started with excitement and capacity, but somewhere along the way, my capacity became an obligation. My excitement turned into pressure and anxiety. My desire became a commitment. My creativity became production. And the desire to create became evidence that I was already behind.
I didn’t need more discipline to push, force, or prove. What I needed to notice was that the way I was relating to the season had changed. Something that had felt expansive a few weeks earlier suddenly felt pressurized. Rather than immediately asking how I could make myself handle it better, as I might have in the past, I paused long enough to notice what had changed.
Because it wasn’t the excitement that caused this shift; it was the pressure story I had placed overtop of the excitement that was the issue.
Perhaps you’ve found yourself living inside the pressure cooker, too, whether recently or at some point already this season. You start out excited to return to your routines, get more focused on your personal and professional goals, make plans for the months ahead, and enjoy everything Fall has to offer. It feels like a breath of fresh air, a chance to begin again, but somewhere along the way, that excitement starts to feel like pressure. And it’s not because you lack motivation or you can't handle everything you want to accomplish. You are probably very good at holding and handling a lot, maybe even more than you realize. You know how to make things work, how to take on more, and how to find a way forward. But sometimes, the very capacity that allows you to do so much can quietly become an obligation to do it all.
Letting this Fall be a time to notice
This is where taking inventory becomes important for me. Not as another exercise in planning, organizing, or figuring everything out, but as an opportunity to pause and ask myself: What is my life actually telling me?
I don’t need to turn every piece of information I notice into action immediately, I can instead collect evidence, I can notice what’s working and what isn’t, pay attention to how things feel in my body, and allow myself to see what patterns are emerging before deciding what to do about them.
Sometimes, the most important thing to notice isn’t that something needs to change; it’s that the way you’re experiencing it has changed.
Something you were excited about might have started to feel like another obligation. A goal you genuinely wanted might have become something you’re pressuring yourself to complete on an arbitrary timeline. A routine that once supported you might have become another thing you’re trying to perfect. And you don’t necessarily need to abandon any of those things. You can simply become curious about the shift.
When did something I was excited about become something I already felt behind on?
When did excitement become urgency?
Excitement says: Look at everything I get to do
Pressure says: Look at everything I should have done by now
Capacity says: I can
Obligation says: I should
Fall doesn’t necessarily create the pressure; sometimes, it simply reveals how quickly we can turn energy into expectation. And perhaps this is part of the quiet work of refinement: noticing the moment a desire starts to feel like a demand, before you find yourself so depleted that you can no longer remember what excited you about it in the first place.
So, as you move through this season, perhaps you can begin by noticing where things feel different. Where something you wanted has started to feel like something you’re behind on. Where your capacity has quietly become an obligation. Where you’re trying to optimize something that might simply need more room.
You don’t have to figure it all out today, even this week, or month
You don’t have to turn every realization into a plan of action or decision
Sometimes, you can simply notice
And begin from there.
A Small Invitation
Over the next few days, notice when something you were excited about starts to feel like something you should be doing.
Notice when your capacity starts to feel like an obligation, or when you find yourself rushing toward something that once felt expansive.
You don’t have to change anything just yet. Simply notice what’s happening, and see what you learn.
Private Advisory
Sometimes discernment brings you to a decision
And sometimes you need perspective that helps you hear what you already know.
Sometimes what needs to change isn’t the decision itself, but the way you’re living inside everything you’ve already chosen: your pace, your energy, your routines, what you’re available for, and what actually supports you now.
That is some of the work I do privately.
