I Don’t Need Another Nervous System Protocol

On exhaustion, ambition, grief, joy, and everything happening at once.

I feel so much pressure to make it all work.
I feel so much pressure to hold it all together, or it will fall apart.
I feel so much pressure to take care of my mother back in Seattle — who is showing up to Sunday church service, on a Wednesday.

Here I am, rebuilding my business after a five-year break and starting over financially.

I’ve been working six days a week, non stop.

Last week, I counted — I’d worked 11 days straight and I didn’t even know it.

I’m running on very little sleep.

Last night I went to sleep at 4:30am.

I’m not sure why.

I don’t have insomnia.
I’m not ruminating.
I don’t have anxiety.

I’m crying as I’m writing all of this.

My residency visa ends in three weeks, and the renewal process is always fucking stressful.

I’m gathering paperwork in a language I don’t speak, and dealing with people who don’t want to help me, all so that I can be treated like cattle at my immigration appointment.

With the looming possibility I won’t even be able to stay here.

Eight months ago I had my hair done by a Ukrainian woman here in Istanbul, and she processed it so much it’s been breaking off since.

I’ve been terrified to return to any salon, so I have eight months of root growth, and have been hiding under a hat for half a year.

So I feel ugly as shit.

I’ll be 48 in a month, and the signs are showing on my face.

And damnit, my ankles and knees are hurting.

What the actual fuck.

On top of all of that, this month I’m managing:

Friends visiting from three different countries.

Four birthdays.

And a wedding.

And lastly, I hate to admit it but…

my chest hurts from too much smoking.

I’m not even a smoker.

(Yeah, another story for another day.)

So yeah, I’m a wee bit exhausted.

All of this while…

I’ve just had the best three weeks of my life.

I committed to writing for four to five hours a day, first thing in the morning, and I’m actually sticking to it.

My dreams of writing my books - one on leadership, one a memoir - are no longer in my head.

They’re right in front of me on the screen.

The more I dig through 15+ years of this work, the more I see my own brilliance.

I finally found a community (shout out to Substack!) where I don’t have to post dancing videos and algorithmic reels.

Where people get to know me for how I think, not how I look.

And I’m loving it.

I’m living the life I’ve always wanted.

I’m actually not sure what the tears are about.

This is not a time management problem.
This is not a boundaries problem.
This is not a nervous system problem.

There is nothing to fix, because there is no problem.

Some seasons are simply full.

Full of fear, love, responsibility, possibility.

Full of ecstasy.

Full of tears.

Not everything difficult is a problem to solve.

Sometimes it’s simply a life being lived at full volume.

Simply the life – of a girl on the edges.

Living. Laughing. Lamenting. Crying.

Again and again.

And again.

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This was a rough week ya’ll.

Full of growth and loss at the same time.

Have you had these experiences?

Would love to hear from you. Comment below.