I recently spoke with a colleague who’s been in the helping field for decades.
She told me something that stopped me in my tracks.
“I’m taking this summer to slow down.”
No new trainings.
No overstuffed calendar.
Just rest.
She shared how her years of pushing, planning, and staying one step ahead had finally caught up with her. It started as tension. Then chronic exhaustion. And now, her body is making it crystal clear: it needs something different.
So she’s listening.
This summer, she’s choosing to unplug. To be present with her family. To let go of the pressure to keep producing. She’s not opting out—she’s courageously opting in to her own care.
And it struck a deep chord.
If you’re a therapist, clinician, or helper of any kind, I imagine this might feel familiar.
There’s always something else to do.
More needs. More urgency. More people to show up for.
We begin to measure our value by how much we can give and how long we can keep going. It’s subtle, but it’s deeply ingrained.
And eventually, that constant striving starts to take its toll.
It shows up in your nervous system.
It shows up in your body.
It shows up in your work—and your life.
There’s a quiet myth so many of us carry: that it’s noble to override our needs.
But real presence—the kind of presence our clients, families, and communities actually need—doesn’t come from pushing through. It comes from being grounded in our own care.
You can’t keep pouring from an empty cup (even if you’re really, really good at pretending you can).
Caring for others can’t come at the cost of abandoning yourself.
This isn’t about stepping back forever. It’s about recalibrating. Listening. Choosing to include yourself in the care you so freely offer everyone else.
So I want to ask you the same question I’ve been sitting with myself:
What do you truly need this summer?
Not what your clients need.
Not what the field demands.
Not what the latest podcast says will make you more “resilient.”
What would actually feel nourishing?
Maybe it’s space to exhale.
Maybe it’s permission to pause.
Maybe it’s turning inward instead of stretching yourself thinner.
If the thought of slowing down feels a little scary, that’s okay.
You’re not doing it wrong. You’re just not used to being the one who receives care.
And that’s exactly why I offer free Grounding Calls—gentle, 30-minute spaces to pause, be witnessed, and reconnect to what you need.
No pressure. No prep work. Just a soft place to land.
You don’t have to be burnt out to deserve rest.
You don’t have to justify needing a break.
You don’t have to wait until your body forces you to listen.
You’re allowed to slow down.
You’re allowed to do less.
You’re allowed to matter, too.
Always,
Betsy
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