By Cathy Domsch
The Architect of My Own Overwhelm
As I sit down to write this, my cursor blinks on a stark white screen, mocking me. The irony is not lost on me. I am supposed to be writing an article on emotional wellness, yet my own brain feels like it’s wrapped in a thick, grey fog.
I feel the overwhelm. I am exhausted. And I am the one who built the fire.
If you are a high-achieving woman reading this, you might recognize that specific description of exhaustion. It isn’t the kind of tired that a good night’s sleep can fix. It’s a soul-deep depletion that comes from a life lived at 100 miles per hour, driven by the relentless pursuit of more.
For a long time, I wore my “busy” like a badge of honor. I viewed my packed calendar as a testament to my importance and my capability. I didn’t want to let anyone down—not my clients, not my family, not my community. I told myself that “strong” meant being the one everyone could count on, the one who never said no, the one who could juggle twelve glass balls without dropping a single one.
But here is the truth we rarely admit in the boardroom or over coffee with friends: I did this to myself.
Success is a powerful drug. When you strive and achieve, the world applauds — and that applause masks the sound of your own internal alarm bells.
The Silence of the “Strong”
For high-achieving women, our silence is often our greatest survival mechanism. We believe that to be a leader is to be stoic. We believe that admitting we are drowning is a sign of weakness.
So, we stay silent. We keep our cameras on during Zoom calls and smile through the fog. We answer “I’m great!” when someone asks how we are. We keep the struggle behind closed doors, weeping in the car or staring at the ceiling at 3:00 AM, wondering how we got here.
But silence isn’t strength; it’s a slow-acting poison. When we refuse to speak about our exhaustion or burnout, we isolate ourselves in a room full of women who are feeling the exact same thing. We uphold a “Superwoman” standard that is literally killing us.
Redefining Strength
To maintain control of our lives, we must change our definition of strength. We must move away from strength-as-endurance and toward strength-as-agency. We must oversee our lives. We must make proactive choices. We must set boundaries.
We often think saying “yes” is a sign of power. In reality, a “yes” fueled by the fear of letting people down is a debt you are charging to your future health. Real strength is the ability to hold a boundary even when it’s uncomfortable. It is the “no” that protects your “yes.”
The Art of the Strategic Reset
We often treat exhaustion like an enemy to be conquered with more caffeine and longer hours. But I’ve learned that when the fog rolls in, it isn’t a sign of failure—it’s a signal for a reset. To be strong means being honest enough with myself to say: I am at capacity, and I am stepping back to refuel. For me, getting control doesn’t happen in the boardroom; it happens in the quiet, intentional spaces I carve out to protect my spirit.
My reset begins with my devotion. When I am striving for “more,” I am often operating out of my own limited strength. Returning to my devotion and meditation routine pulls me out of the noise of the world and places me back on solid ground. It reminds me that my identity is rooted in something far deeper than my to-do list. In the silence of meditation, the “must-dos” of the world get quieter, and the “should-dos” of my soul get louder.
One of the most radical things I do to regain control is to dedicate a day alone in my office. This isn’t a day for “business as usual”—it’s a day for my business.
- Closing the Door: I shut out the external demands, the pings of “urgent” emails, and the expectations of others.
- Reclaiming the Agenda: I stop working on what others need from me and work on what I need for myself. Whether it’s long-term planning, creative dreaming, or simply catching up on the tasks that weigh on my mind, this “day of one” allows me to stop reacting and start leading again.
This reset isn’t a luxury; it’s my maintenance. By taking this time, I am telling myself—and the world—that I am worth the investment. I am recognizing that I cannot pour from an empty cup, and I refuse to let my schedule be a runaway train.
When I step back into the light after a reset, I am not just “less tired.” I am more centered. I am more “me.” I have traded the frantic energy of the high-achiever for the calm authority of a woman who knows exactly who she is and where she is going.
Breaking the Silence
As I sit here, I realize that the strongest thing I can do is be honest with you. I am a leader, I am a high-achiever, and at times I struggle. Those things can coexist.
Admitting that I need to get control isn’t a failure—it’s the first step toward a version of success that doesn’t require me to set myself on fire to keep others warm.
To the woman reading this who is also “tired of being tired”: You are allowed to set the weight down. You are allowed to admit that the schedule you built no longer fits the woman you are becoming. Your worth is not a variable of your productivity.
A Call to My Sisters
This May, let’s make a pact. Let’s stop being “silently strong.”
- Check on your “strong” friend—the one who seems to have it all together.
- Say the “uncomfortable” thing in your next meeting: “I don’t have the bandwidth for this right now.”
- Take the cape off. It’s heavy, it’s outdated, and you don’t need it to be a hero.
The fog will lift, but only if we stop trying to run through it at full speed. Today, I am choosing to be quiet so that I can eventually be loud again. I am choosing to listen to the exhaustion instead of fighting it.
Because a truly strong woman isn’t the one who never falls; she’s the one who is brave enough to say, “I’m down, and I need a moment before I get back up.”
