Fresh start. Clean slate. New intentions.

This Isn’t the Tiredness January Fixes

Three weeks ago, you probably had that moment. You know the one standing in front of the mirror on New Year’s Eve, eyes lifted, quietly asking God for something different. Or maybe sitting with your coffee on January 1st, telling yourself, this year is going to be different.

Fresh start. Clean slate. New intentions.

And yet.

Here you are, mid-January, and that heaviness you were hoping would lift? It's still sitting right there in your chest.

I've been having the same conversation over and over with my clients lately. These are brilliant, accomplished women leaders, executives, entrepreneurs who from the outside seem to have it all together. And when I ask how they're doing, there's this pause. You know that pause. The one right before someone decides whether to tell you the truth or give you the polished version.

And then it comes: "Honestly? I'm exhausted. Like, bone-tired. And I don't know why I thought January would feel different."

This isn't the kind of tired that sleep fixes.

This is the exhaustion that lives in your body. The kind that makes you wake up already bracing for the day. You're moving from one thing to the next, always catching up on work, on deliverables, on expectations that never seem to loosen their grip.

And then you notice it starting to show up in ways you don't like.

You're shorter with colleagues than you want to be. That teammate who usually doesn't bother you suddenly feels unbearable. Professional relationships feel strained, and it's not because you don't care it's because there's just no bandwidth left inside you.

Here's what makes this whole thing so maddening: somewhere along the way, you started believing this was normal. That this constant state of tension, this low-grade sense of urgency, this perpetual feeling of being behind that this is just what high performance looks like.

But your body? Your body knows better.

The Data We're Not Discussing Enough

Last week, a client told me something that stopped me in my tracks. She's a VP at a Fortune 500 company, manages a team of 40, consistently delivers results. She said, "I feel like I'm performing being strong. Like, I know all the right things to say in leadership meetings, I show up for my team, I keep everything running... but inside? I'm running on fumes and nobody can tell."

Here's what the research shows:

Women experience burnout at significantly higher rates than men and it's not because we're less capable or less resilient.

It's because we're carrying an invisible load that most organizational structures don't account for.

Research shows women shoulder 71% of cognitive labor in their households the invisible mental work of planning, remembering, coordinating that runs constantly in the background. Add professional leadership responsibilities, strategic decision-making, team management, and career advancement on top of that?

The nervous system doesn't stand a chance.

That constant background hum of mental tabs open in your brain? That's not just your leadership style. That's your nervous system on overload.

What I'm Learning About Presence

Because I'm right there with you. Standing at the beginning of this year, feeling that same pull between wanting things to be different and wondering if they actually can be.

I made myself a promise this January not a resolution, not a goal, just a quiet agreement with myself: This is the year I'm going to teach myself to be present in what's happening in my life.

Not ruminating about what I should have done in yesterday's meeting. Not anxiety-spiraling about next quarter's targets. Not that constant nagging feeling that I'm missing something, forgetting something, dropping some invisible ball.

Just... here. Now. In this moment.

And I'll be honest it's harder than it sounds for high-achievers. Because presence isn't passive. It's an active choice to come back to yourself, again and again, even when everything in you wants to jump ahead or replay the past.

Here's what's working:

Getting honest about the rush.

For years, I lived like I was being chased. There was always something urgent, always something that couldn't wait, always this feeling that if I wasn't moving fast enough, something terrible would happen.

But this year? I keep coming back to this one truth: We don't need to be rushed.

We need to learn how to be present in our bodies. To actually feel what's happening inside us. To notice when we're tense, when we're holding our breath, when that familiar urgency is driving us forward not because something actually requires it, but because we've forgotten how to move any other way.

And here's what's wild when you slow down enough to check in with your body, you realize: that urgency? Most of the time, it's not about what's in front of you. It's about what's stored inside you.

Treating my body like it's providing data, not sabotaging me.

That tension in my shoulders before a difficult conversation? That's not my body failing me. That's information.

The exhaustion that vacation doesn't touch? That's not weakness. That's my nervous system signaling I've been operating in survival mode too long.

The irritability, the short fuse, the feeling of being constantly on edge? That's not who I am. That's what happens when I ignore what I actually need in favor of what I think I should be able to handle.

So I'm practicing something that feels radical in high-performance environments: I'm listening.

When my body tenses up before a meeting, I pause and ask: What am I bracing for?

When I feel that familiar urge to say "yes" when I mean "no," I check in: What am I afraid will happen if I'm honest?

When exhaustion hits and my first instinct is to push through, I stop and ask: What would it look like to honor this instead of override it?

Giving myself permission to say the things I've been swallowing.

This one's the hardest in professional contexts. Because for so long, keeping things smooth felt safer than speaking difficult truths. Handling things myself felt more efficient than asking for what I needed. Staying quiet felt less risky than potentially creating friction.

But here's what I'm realizing: every time I choose silence over truth, I'm making a deposit into my body's stress account. And eventually? That account comes due.

So I'm practicing small truths. Not dramatic confrontations. Just honest moments.

"I need to think about this before responding." "Actually, that timeline doesn't work given our current capacity." "I'm not aligned with this approach." "I need support with this."

Sometimes it's uncomfortable. Sometimes people are surprised. Sometimes I still feel that old fear that speaking up will cost me credibility.

But the cost of staying silent is always higher.

The Leadership Insight

This year doesn't need more productivity from you.

It needs more truth.

Not the perfect truth. Not fully-formed strategy documents. Just the honest, "this is where we actually are" kind of truth.

Because when you stop performing and start being present with yourself, with your body, with what's actually true everything shifts in your leadership.

You start making decisions from clarity instead of depletion. You start setting boundaries from strength instead of resentment. You start showing up for your team and your work from a place that's sustainable.

An Invitation

Before you dive into the rest of your week, try something:

Pause. Just for one minute.

Put your hand on your chest and ask:

⦁ What am I really feeling right now?

⦁ What's one thing my body has been trying to tell me that I've been ignoring?

⦁ What would change if I let myself be honest about where I actually am?

You don't need answers. You don't need a plan. You just need to start listening.

Because when your body is stuck in survival mode, everything including leadership, innovation, strategic thinking feels harder than it needs to be.

You don't need to step back from your career. You need to step into yourself before your work takes more from you than you can sustain.

High performance doesn't require chronic depletion. But it does require listening to what your body has been trying to tell you.

That awareness? That simple act of choosing presence over performance?

That's where sustainable leadership begins.

You cannot lead anyone until you are a leader in your own life.

With love,

Isabel ♡