Functioning is not living

When Functioning Isn’t Living: A Therapist’s Wake-Up Call
There I was, sobbing in my car after volunteering at Alpha Grand Rapids. Not just tired, not just overwhelmed, completely emotionally spent. And there I was, crying to the sound of Rachel Hollis’ Girl, Wash Your Face like it was my first time hearing any of it. It wasn’t. I’ve sat through years of professional training on therapeutic techniques and self-care. I’m a mental health professional. Most of my friends are too. I knew the material. So why couldn’t I stop crying?

Because knowing and doing are not the same thing. Because despite being surrounded by supportive people and equipped with clinical knowledge, I was running on fumes. My body ached from chronic pain. Fatigue from narcolepsy dulled every moment. And the truth I didn’t want to face hit me hard: if I didn’t change something soon, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going.

Outwardly, I was holding it together, volunteering, making meals, handling logistics, being “fine.” But inside, I felt trapped. Like I was chained to a life I couldn’t fully show up for.

That drive home was a breaking point. But it was also a beginning. Here’s what I’ve learned so far, not just as a therapist or mother, but as a person finally learning to show up for herself.


What Helped Me Start Moving Forward
1. Dress like you matter.
This isn’t about fashion. It’s about self-respect. If you show up in clothes that say, I’ve given up on being seen, you start to believe it. You don’t need to wear a blazer, but at least wear something that tells the world, and yourself, you still care.

2. Stop abandoning yourself.
It’s easy to put yourself last, especially when other people depend on you. But I realized I was showing up for everyone else and slowly disappearing in the process. If that sounds familiar, it might be time to reassess what you actually need, mentally, emotionally, physically.

3. Rewire one habit at a time.
Hollis talks about quitting diet soda; for me, it was a handful of small, destructive patterns I had normalized. I didn’t overhaul my life overnight, but I started with small shifts. You don’t need perfection, you need momentum.

4. Drink water. Seriously.
I wasn’t even replacing water with coffee or soda. I just… wasn’t drinking anything. My half-full morning coffee would sit untouched all day. That’s how far gone I was. Not caring for myself wasn’t a choice, it was my default setting.

5. Tell the truth.
When I finally admitted to a close friend how badly I was struggling, it felt terrifying and freeing all at once. I said it plainly: “If I don’t start making real changes, I’m not sure I can keep doing this.” Saying it didn’t make me weak, it reminded me I wasn’t invincible.

6. Respect your energy.
As an introvert with multiple roles, business owner, parent, volunteer, I’ve learned I have to manage my schedule like my life depends on it. Because it kind of does. I can’t take on more than I can physically or emotionally carry. Saying no is no longer a luxury, it’s a necessity.