The Rolling Stop

This past Mother’s Day, I got pulled over by the police for running a stop sign.

 

I was on my way back from Aldi picking up wine and snacks. Nothing dramatic. Nothing reckless. I genuinely thought I had stopped.

 

Apparently, what I did is called a rolling stop.

You slow down.

You keep it moving.
But you never fully stop.

 

Honestly? That pretty much describes how I’ve been living.

 

Ironically, the photo above was taken outside of Aldi on a completely different day. Papa Kemp pushing the cart while I followed behind him.

 

When the police officer came to my window and asked for my information, I completely short-circuited. I started pulling every single card out of my wallet trying to find what she asked for.

 

Finally she looked at me and said: “Ma’am… your insurance card and registration are already in your hand.”

 

I told her, “I’m not having a very good Mother’s Day.”

 

And truthfully, my anxiety wasn’t just about the possibility of a ticket or what it might do to my insurance.

 

As a Black woman, being pulled over by the police comes with an entirely different layer of fear and stress.

 

Not angry. Not dramatic. No tears.

Just tired in a way I don’t think I fully understood until that moment.

 

She took my ID back to her car for a few minutes, then eventually returned and let me off with only a verbal warning. I’m sure the fact that I haven’t had a ticket in over 15 years worked in my favor.

 

I thanked her, pulled away, and immediately started shaking so badly I felt my foot vibrating on the gas pedal and brake. I had to pull into a nearby grocery store parking lot.

 

That’s where the tears came like a dam breaking.

Not at the traffic stop.

Not in front of the officer.

Not during the interaction.

 

 

Because apparently my body knew something my mind had not fully accepted yet.

 

Pure and utter exhaustion.

 

Not from someone else pushing me. Not from a boss demanding more.

From my own internal barometer constantly telling me to keep going.

 

And the truth is, this wasn’t much different than how I’ve been living for a very long time: never coming to a complete stop long enough to truly rest.

 

Just slowing down temporarily long enough to recharge and keep rolling again.

 

A few days later during my small group, someone made an observation that stopped me cold.

 

Running the stop sign wasn’t just about driving. It was a metaphor…

 

And honestly, they were right.

 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said to one of my closest friends, “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”

 

And almost every time, she gently starts listing all the things I’ve crammed into my calendar that I’ve somehow already forgotten about.

I’ve been moving at warp speed for so long that exhaustion started feeling confusing instead of predictable.

 

Maybe some of you reading this understand exactly what I mean.

 

Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that slowing down briefly counts as resting.

 

Maybe you already know your own version of a rolling stop.

 

And maybe life is already flashing warning lights in the rear view mirror behind you.

 

Maybe you’ve become so accustomed to functioning under pressure that your body has forgotten what a complete stop even feels like. 

 

Or maybe you keep convincing yourself that rest is for other people.

 

 

You know the kind of stop where the car fully settles for a second before moving forward again and your nervous system exhales too. Maybe life has been giving you warning signs for a while now.

 

The truth is, caregivers, leaders, helpers, and high performers often become experts at surviving without fully recovering.

And then respond in disbelief when we get pulled over. Until eventually something forces us to stop.

 

For me, it was a stop sign.
A police officer.
A grocery store run on Mother’s Day.

 

 

I think my body had been trying to get me to come to a full stop and let everything settle for a long time now.

 

I’m definitely coming to full stops at stop signs now when driving, but mastering full stops instead of rolling stops in the rest of my life is still a work in progress.

 

 

More to come. 💜

Chef Maria