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Saturday evening and I'm frustrated, sad and practicing some self-love.
Things were a struggle this week. My focus was scattered in a hundred different directions and getting back into a routine felt nearly impossible. I had taken a long weekend vacation the week before to de-stress and relax. Normally, I plan an extra day off to transition back. Just one day to settle in, unpack, reset. Transitions have always been hard for me. It doesn't help that I experience time-blindness, so I often try to cram more into my day than is realistically possible. That's why building in buffers is usually helpful for me to prioritize and pace myself.
But this time, I flew in late, slept six hours, and jumped straight into a busy workweek. Not exactly ideal.
As the week went on, things kept veering off track. Meetings I had prepped for were canceled. I know it was out of my control, but I didn't handle it well. I'd stayed up late getting ready for those conversations, woke up early, showed up fully prepared for things that didn't end up happening. The time I thought I had? Wasted. Or at least it felt that way.
I didn't get groceries. I made excuses and defaulted to takeout. And after a few days of eating out, I felt guilty for not fueling my body better. I justified it, though, because I'd scheduled several workouts the week before. I was looking forward to them.
Except... I booked them in Eastern Time and didn't adjust my calendar reminders when I got home. So I missed them. Paid for and missed.
At the same time, I was trying to catch up and meet a few deadlines. Deadlines usually help motivate me, so I stayed up later than usual working - even though I was the one who set the deadlines. And if I missed them, the only person disappointed would be me. But I'm stubborn. I don't want to let anyone down, including myself. So I sacrificed sleep to push through.
By Saturday morning, I could feel it all catching up to me. My anxiety was high. I noticed some weight gain. My autoimmune symptoms flared. An early warning sign that stress was taking a real toll. I should've noticed the signs earlier, like on Thursday when I started withdrawing and avoiding people. Or Friday night, when I sat on the couch doom-scrolling video after video.
That's classic burnout behavior. I've seen it in clients. I coach others through it. But I ignored it in myself.
And as someone who advocates for work well-being, I wasn't exactly walking the talk.
Driving home after missing yet another workout class - this time by two minutes - I found the doors locked. And I broke. The negative self-talk hit hard. I cried. In the car, in the garage, and all the way into the house.
I sat on the couch, tears drying, laptop staring at me from the ottoman. And I had a moment. A few, actually.
We all go through setback. We fall out of routines. We slip into old habits like putting on a favorite hoodie. Comfortable, familiar, not always helpful.
And I thought, what if I shared this with my blog readers?
To show that even someone who talks about wellness and coaching also struggles. That we’re all human. That sometimes, we just need to know we’re not the only ones having a tough time.
Because that’s what Spark Potential is about.
It’s about supporting well-being through community, honesty, and compassion—for ourselves and each other.
After writing this, I already feel lighter. I allowed myself to feel what I needed to feel. Then, I took action. Writing helped me process what really happened and gain perspective. My emotions had clouded my thinking and placed all the blame on me. Sure, some of the week’s challenges were in my control—but not all. And blaming myself wasn’t helping.
What would help? Returning to my plan. Leaning on my support system.
It’s 6:30 p.m., and there’s still time to turn the day around. My plan for tonight:
Already, things are shifting. A friend reached out and invited me to her yoga class tomorrow. My husband texted, ready to commiserate with me and encourage a fresh start.
Leaning on others is something I’ve had to learn, trusting that I don’t have to carry everything alone. And being vulnerable when things fall apart? That’s strength, too.
So here I am, pressing reset. Looking forward. And sharing this moment with you in the hope that it reminds you: you’re not alone in the messy parts.
We’re all learning how to care for ourselves while we care for our work, our people, and our lives. Thanks for being here with me.