Chef Maria Kemp appears on the Nasdaq Tower in Times Square as one of the Nasdaq Entrepreneurial Center Milestone Circles graduates.

Turn the Volume OFF

If you read last week's newsletter, you may remember it was called Good Things Come in 3.5's.
 
Three of those things were mountaintop moments. The .5 was considerably less glamorous.
 
But what the week reminded me of is something I heard years ago:
Even good things carry stress.
 
We tend to think stress only arrives carrying bad news.
A medical diagnosis, a meeting with the boss, a certified letter, a financial setback.
 
But stress is far less selective than that.
  • A keynote opportunity is stress
  • A big win is stress
  • Travel is stress
  • Excitement is stress
  • A schedule of promising prospects or client meetings is still stress
Even three wonderful opportunities or accomplishments arriving at once is still stress.
 
The irony isn't lost on me.
 
One day I'm appearing on the NASDAQ Tower in Times Square.
 
Another night I'm lying awake at 3 a.m. listening to bullfrogs audition for a heavy metal band outside my bedroom window.
 
Both can be true.
 
But here's the part we rarely stop to consider:
Our body doesn't ask whether the pressure is good or bad. It simply responds to pressure.
 
And lately, I've noticed the signs. My to-do list started looking less like a plan and more like a hostage situation.
 
My patience got shorter.
 
Everyone seemed to need my undivided attention at exactly the same moment.
 
My sleep became inconsistent. And somewhere around 3 a.m., my brain apparently decided that was enough sleep and it was time to host a committee meeting.
 
Then I noticed something else.
 
The cicadas sounded louder.
The bullfrogs sounded louder.
The geese sounded louder.
Everything sounded louder.
Of course, the wildlife wasn't actually louder.
 
I was.
 
My nervous system was operating with the volume knob turned all the way up.
 
I suspect some of you know exactly what that feels like. Especially caregivers.
 
Because caregiving often teaches us to keep going long after our body has started whispering that it needs rest.
 
The problem is that whispers eventually become alarms. And if we ignore the alarms long enough, everything starts to feel loud.
 
Including things that were never the problem.
 
Sometimes the first sign that you're carrying too much isn't what you're carrying. It's what starts irritating you.
 
And when that happens, I've learned something important. The answer isn't always more sleep.
 
Sometimes it's fewer inputs.
  • Less noise.
  • Less access.
  • Less obligation.
The older I get, the more I realize that protecting my peace isn't about building walls.
 
It's about asking better questions.
  • Do I actually have the capacity for this right now?
  • Does this align with my priorities?
  • Am I saying yes because I want to, or because I feel obligated?
  • What would happen if I said no?
Caregivers, in particular, can become so accustomed to being needed that we stop evaluating requests altogether.
 
We simply respond.
  • Yes.
  • Sure
  • I'll handle it.
  • I've got it.
Until one day we realize we're carrying things that were never ours to carry in the first place.
 
Boundaries aren't about shutting people out. They're about deciding what gets in.
 
And sometimes the healthiest response isn't a complicated explanation.
 
You've heard it before. "No" is a complete sentence.
No explanation.
No justification.
No PowerPoint presentation defending your decision.
In fact, it's often more effective when you simply stop talking.
  • That doesn't mean you're angry.
  • It doesn't mean you don't care.
  • It doesn't mean you suddenly dislike humans.
  • And it certainly doesn't mean the request wasn't important.
It simply means saying yes would require you to sacrifice something that matters more.
  • Your health.
  • Your rest.
  • Your priorities.
  • Your peace.
Peace isn't something you find. It's something you protect.
 
Sometimes that means turning the volume down.
Sometimes that means turning the world down.
 
So this week, I'm paying attention to the volume. Not because anything is wrong. But because I've learned that sometimes the first sign you need rest isn't exhaustion.
 
It's when the cicadas and bullfrogs suddenly sound like they're using a megaphone and you're seriously considering screaming at them to TURN IT OFF!
 
More to come.

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