Why Rest Feels Unsafe for High-Achieving Women and How to Begin Prioritizing Yourself Without Guilt
If you’ve ever pushed past your limits, telling yourself you’ll rest once things settle down, once everything’s handled, once you’ve taken care of everyone else, you’re not alone. I told myself that, too, for years. So many of us know we need rest, but still can’t seem to take it.
This piece is a personal story about what happened when my body finally said enough, and the deeper emotional truths that surfaced when I finally listened. It’s about the fear underneath the pushing, the grief and quiet ache for safety beneath the exhaustion, and the stories we carry that make rest feel unsafe.
If you’ve ever felt guilty for slowing down or afraid of what might happen if you do, this post is for you. May it serve as a gentle wake-up call to save you from an ER visit and encourage you to be rebellious and choose yourself before it’s too late.
In this blog post, I’m going to share:
What happened when my body forced me to stop: the ER visit I didn’t see coming
The hidden fear behind constantly pushing through and being useful all the time
The moment I realized I didn’t actually know how to slow down and what it took to finally choose myself
Why awareness alone isn’t enough to create change and what your body might be trying to tell you when rest feels hard, unsafe, or wrong
What rest revealed: the fear, grief, and quiet stories that had kept me going for years
Let’s dive in…
When the Body Says ‘Enough’: A Turning Point in My Relationship with Rest
I used to think that I could just power through and rest later, but what I learned lying on that ER bed is that later might actually be too late. Rest isn’t something you earn, it’s something you allow. And learning to allow it… might just be the most courageous thing you ever do. But let’s backtrack a little...
There are moments your body whispers — and moments it screams, and sometimes it takes a collapse to realize the enormous weight we’ve been carrying.
My wake-up call came "out of nowhere" on a random Thursday at 5 a.m. — in the form of stabbing stomach pain and cramping that wouldn't let up. I tried everything I knew, all my tools and techniques that usually help, but this time, nothing worked. Four hours later, still in agony, I gave in.
My partner helped me into the Grab. I curled up on his lap in the backseat, barely able to breathe. The next 50 minutes to the ER felt like they would never end. I kept drifting in and out of awareness, and honestly, there were moments where a part of me wasn’t sure if I’d make it. But I just kept whispering to myself, Please survive. Just hold on. Just get there.
I did. I made it.
When we arrived, I collapsed as I got out of the car. I couldn’t walk anymore. Inside the hospital, they gave me painkillers, ran tests, and eventually, after hours, I finally could relax a little.
And this is the part that really caught me off guard…
As the painkillers kicked in, and my eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, I realized my client session (which I had already asked my partner to cancel) was supposed to start in an hour.
The wildest thought entered my mind: "I feel better. I might still be able to do that call."
My partner looked at me, "Seriously?!"
A part of me was joking. But a deeper part of me also… wasn't.
A deeper part actually believed that even in this state, collapsed after hours of pain I had never felt before, hooked up to an IV, uncertain about what was happening in my body — now that the pain was manageable, I should still prioritize holding space for someone else?!
I was shocked, and it hit me.
That moment, I realized how deeply ingrained the pattern was to keep giving and being useful, even in crisis, which made me think that even a medical emergency wasn’t a good enough reason to prioritize myself.
Why High Achievers Struggle to Rest: The Hidden Fear of Being Unproductive
After I came home, I intended to rest a little and take it slow. But only a few days later, I found myself reaching out to clients on Sunday evening, trying to reschedule missed sessions for the following week — on top of everything that was supposed to happen that week already.
I knew it was kind of full already, but I thought I could handle it. I remember thinking, "Let me just get through this week, and I can crash the week after." …and then I thought, “Wait a minute, why would I think like that? I just crashed a few days ago — didn’t I learn anything from this experience?!”
It’s almost funny. I had just been in the ER, and yet there I was, already planning how to make up for lost time, unconsciously already slipping back into the rhythm of urgency.
But my body knew better, and my clients did too.
One client replied immediately, "Yeah, but are you sure you're okay? You were just in the ER like three days ago? I can wait a minute, ya know?" And as much as I felt her love and care for me, part of me was irritated.
"What did she mean? I'm allowed to rest more? — to have even more space?" I had never thought about that possibility. In my mind, I had rested all weekend, so I thought that should be enough. I told myself I was fine, and I went to sleep.
Monday Morning: The Moment I Realized I Didn’t Know How to Stop
Ever had that dilemma when your mind says 'push through' but your body says 'no'?
The next morning, I thought everything would be back to normal, but my body had other plans. I felt sick. I had no energy. No capacity. And this time, I couldn’t ignore it (again). I knew something really had to change.
Suddenly, it all made sense. I could see the pattern that had been running the show for so long. The same voice popped into my head with the ridiculous idea that I could conduct the client session in the ER. I saw it now, crystal clear.
I realized how deep this pattern ran, not only in a profound way but also in much more subtle day-to-day decisions. That part of me that didn’t know how to stop until it was too late. That part that genuinely believed that even when I needed space, my priority should still be holding space for someone else because I had internalized this idea of it’s never okay to stop, never okay to be unavailable, never okay to choose myself first.
And finally, a new thought came to mind: "I need to cancel all my appointments for this week!" I felt it deeply in every cell of my body. I had neither energy nor capacity to hold space for another human.
You see, in my sessions, we go deep, connecting with the wounded parts of you that need healing. It's not a matter of casual conversation. Those sessions take a lot from a mental, psychological, and energetic perspective, both for me and the client. And as much as I wanted to keep pushing, I realized the human who needed holding and care more than anything was me.
Knowing You Need to Slow Down Isn’t the Same as Feeling Safe Enough to Do It
Now here is where it gets tricky. Just because you're aware of what you need to do doesn't mean you'll automatically do it. I soon realized how much resistance I had to rest more, and even more resistance to tell my clients I won't be able to support them this week.
I wrestled between two forces within me. I felt the heaviness of my body screaming for rest while my mind was racing through all these thoughts of what a chaos it would create to cancel all my calls for the week.
It wasn’t just that I wanted to show up for my clients — it was that some terrified part of me believed I would lose them if I didn’t. And if I lost them, what would that mean? Who would I be if I weren’t the one holding others up?
The hardest thing was not to push through, and after many mental back-and-forths, I finally listened to the message that my body had been sending all along. I cancelled all my calls for the week. And you know what? The moment I sent those messages, my body exhaled, and I smiled because I knew deep down it was the right thing to finally prioritize myself.
What Rest Stirred Up: Fear, Grief, and the Stories That Kept Me Going
At first, rest wasn’t just hard, and it surely didn't feel like relief. I noticed how a deeper part of me simply didn't want to rest.
Rest felt like a threat, like danger, stirring panic, not peace.
I knew that fear wasn’t logical, yet, it was still there — and it was cellular.
Somewhere deep down, I believed that if I stopped being useful… if I stopped functioning, everything would fall apart.
I'd lose love. I'd disappoint people. I'd let my clients down.
And that was terrifying!
Does any of this sound familiar?
Have you ever worried that if you paused, you wouldn’t be needed any longer? ...that if you canceled at the last minute, you'd be letting someone down? Or that if you’d lovingly choose yourself, you might lose others?
If so, I want to help you understand what might be silently driving these thoughts.
If you've been pushing for a while (maybe decades like I did), this isn't just about exhaustion or burnout. It’s about survival patterns deeply ingrained in who you had to become to survive when you were little.
When rest feels scary or inaccessible, it’s no longer about making time for rest. This is not a mindset issue. It’s not about better self-care routines. It’s about attachment.
You don’t feel tired because you need more sleep (I mean, yes, that probably is the case, too.) But you feel this tired because your body carries the weight of decades of emotional responsibility.
You’re not “burned out” because you’re doing too much. That is the result of carrying the weight for everyone and trying to hold everything together. But the actual reason you’re burned out is because your body believes — in your cells — that if you stop being useful, you’ll be abandoned. And so you keep pushing, helping, performing…
Do you notice the loop?
Before you go
If you’re slowly recognizing your own patterns of pushing through and fear of slowing down, I want you to know they make total sense. (They really do!) Your body may have never been shown a different way to exist, and so all it’s doing is trying to keep you safe. It’s important to understand that your body is not wrong for trying to protect itself — no matter how unuseful that behavior might seem.
But you might still wonder, Is there a way out? There is, and it begins with safety, not more effort.
In Part 2, we’ll go even deeper into why rest feels impossible, even though you know you desperately need it, how our earliest attachments shape our relationship to rest, and what it really takes to feel safe doing less, without guilt.
I’ll share what happened when I let go of those old survival patterns, how I created emotional safety in my body to escape the Collapse-Recovery-Collapse Cycle — and why real rest was never just about naps and time off.
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