It happened on a Friday afternoon.

School had just wrapped, I clocked off work at 3pm, and in the middle of the usual school run chaos… I paused.

And then it hit me.

Not tiredness. Not just “I’ve had a big week” tired.
But a kind of heavy, blanketed exhaustion that wrapped around my brain and body like wet wool. My thoughts were slow. My limbs were lead. Even lifting my arm to grab my bag felt like a monumental effort. The exhaustion permeated through my bones, my mind, and my heart, weighing me down with an unbearable heaviness.

I was done.

But of course life doesn’t pause when you do.

That night, I was meant to head to a casual end-of-week work thing… and then out again for birthday drinks with friends at a local wine bar. Normally, that would energise me. Normally, I’d be the one cracking jokes and making the rounds. But that day?

The thought of talking to anyone made me feel sick. How could I summon the energy when I couldn't muster a single coherent thought?

I panicked. Could I even drive? Was it safe? Could I string a sentence together?

I did end up making it to the pub, the bakery pit stop in hand, husband in tow and I tried. I tried to hold conversation. I struggled to engage in conversation, feeling increasingly numb with each passing moment.

Eventually, I made the decision to cancel on the birthday drinks. And if you know me, you’ll know that’s not something I do. Canceling plans was never my style.

The next morning, even the beach, my happy place felt too loud.

The fog in my mind had thickened, accompanied by a racing heart and a sense of being trapped by life's decisions.

When my family asked what the plan was for the day, something inside me cracked.
I snapped. I screamed:
“Why do I always have to have all the answers?”

And I meant it. With my whole chest.

We got in the car and drove. I was anxious and hollow, all at once. My chest tight. My mind looping. I kept picturing a bird in a cage. Trapped. Caged. Scrambling. Panicked. I felt like i was losing my mind.

For the next two days, even surrounded by family, I was absent. Distant. Doing an internal audit.

Was this depression? Burnout? Hormones? Illness? What was going on?

Thankfully I still had a level of cognitive thought, and I was thankful for all of my wellbeing tools. I started engaging in breathwork, affirmations, and most importantly permission, so I cancelled the next birthday gathering I was hosting at my house with extended family, and I cancelled most of my next week and booked in a couple of wellbeing appointments. I rested and slowed and gave myself so much love with all the ways I fill my own cup.

I’m so grateful for the tools I’ve collected over the years. Breathwork. Affirmations. Permission.

Yes permission.

Permission to cancel things.
Permission to rearrange expectations.
Permission to slow down and rest.
Permission to go quiet.
Permission to say, “Actually, I need something different this week.”

I cancelled the next birthday event I was meant to host. I cleared most of my work week. I booked in some wellbeing support. I focused on nourishment and stillness. And eventually, I came back to myself.

It was a challenging time, unlike anything I had experienced before. But amidst the struggle, I realized the importance of recognizing my limits and prioritizing self-care, even if it meant deviating from my usual patterns of resilience and perseverance.

Eventually, I pulled myself back. Not with an over-analysis. But with softness.
I stopped trying to name it and started treating it.

Not the diagnosis — the symptoms.

As it turns out I had a UTI. Some kidney inflammation. Chinese herbs and western meds both came to the party (thank you, team).

Maybe the physical triggered the emotional. Maybe the emotional wore down my physical. Likely, both.

But here’s what I know for sure:
I’d ignored the signs. I’d pushed too long.
And my body finally screamed back.

The lesson?

Sometimes determination is detrimental.

My heart expanded and again I am gifted a deeper level of compassion for those that have mental health clouds over their life. I recognize and am accountable for dropping the ball on my own health. I am grateful for the interest i have taken in myself and my own needs so i can help myself out of a state of dis-ease.

Your Turn: A Moment to Reflect

We often don’t realise how far gone we are until something breaks. But the signs? They’re always there.

Take 10 quiet minutes this week with your journal (or even in your phone notes) and reflect:

What are my personal warning signs that I’m heading toward burnout?
What activities drain me, even when I expect them to energise?
When was the last time I cancelled something just to rest? How did that feel?
What beliefs do I carry about cancelling, quitting, or saying no?
What kind of “permission” do I need to start giving myself more often?

If you're reading this and feeling seen and I want you to know you're not alone.

You’re not “lazy,” “overdramatic,” or “falling apart.”
You’re just human. And your body is wise.

It’s taken me years to learn this lesson and I’m still learning it.
But I’m here now, clearer, calmer, and with a new boundary line drawn.

This horse is still wild, yes. But sometimes? She needs a saddle.

And that’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.

If you’re craving support in building tools that actually help before it gets to that point you can explore them with me inside The Soul Care Healing Method. It’s gentle, powerful, and rooted in exactly this kind of work: noticing the signs, honouring your energy, and building your way back to yourself.

→ Come explore The Soul Care Method

With love and a deep exhale,

Gayle xx