When Life Kicks the Door In (and You’re Still Expected to Function Normally)

March and April didn’t gently arrive this year. They came in loud, chaotic, and completely uninterested in anyone’s schedule.

If I’m being honest, it’s been one of the hardest stretches I’ve had in a long time. Not as a therapist, not as a professional, but as a human being.

Three different family members.
Three separate medical situations.
All roads somehow leading back to me as the primary caretaker.

Managing medications.
Coordinating appointments.
Tracking symptoms.
Advocating, following up, calling again when no one calls back.

Being the scheduler. The organizer. The one who knows what’s next, what’s needed, what can’t be missed.

And in the middle of that, I had a medical situation of my own. The kind that involves an ambulance. And police. And a possible tow truck. Which, for the record, is as fun as it sounds.

So there I was, trying to hold everything together for everyone else, while my own body was waving a very clear white flag.

And still… life didn’t pause. And either did I.

I was still a mom.
Still a therapist.
Still a business owner.
Still a person other people depend on.

And if you’ve ever been in a season like this, you already know…this is where things start to crack.

Appointments got missed.
Sessions got rescheduled.
Things fell through the cracks that normally wouldn’t.

Not because I don’t care.
But because I physically and emotionally could not keep all the plates spinning.

And that’s the part that’s been sitting heavy with me.

Because I hold myself to a high standard. I care deeply about showing up well for my clients. I value consistency, reliability, professionalism.

And I know there have been moments over the past couple months where I didn’t meet that standard.

That’s hard to sit with.

But here’s the truth I keep coming back to: You cannot override your basic human needs and expect to function at your highest level.

You just can’t.

We talk about this all the time in therapy: Maslow’s hierarchy, the foundation of physiological needs, safety, stability. If those things are off, everything built on top of them gets shaky.

And mine have been shaky. Real shaky. Wobbling even.

Sleep has been inconsistent at best.
Stress has been high.
My nervous system has been in overdrive.

And instead of acknowledging that in real time, part of me kept trying to push through. To override it. Doing the exact opposite of what I encourage my clients to do. To show up like everything was fine.

It wasn’t.

And here’s where something unexpected and honestly humbling happened.

My clients showed me grace. A LOT of grace.

A level of grace that I’m not sure I would have given myself.

They were understanding.
Flexible.
Kind in ways that landed deeply.

Many of them are parents. Caregivers. Professionals juggling their own full lives. Therapists. Some are navigating chronic illness in their families. Some are raising children with additional needs.

They get it.

And instead of frustration, I was met with compassion.

Instead of pushback, I was met with patience.

And it stopped me in my tracks.

Because in a month where I’ve felt like I wasn’t showing up as my best self… they reminded me that I’m allowed to still be human.

Not perfect.
Not always on top of everything.
Not always able to carry it all seamlessly.

Just human.

And that doesn’t mean I don’t take accountability. I do. This matters to me. Showing up well matters to me.

But I’m also learning that accountability and self-compassion have to coexist.

That sometimes the most honest, grounded thing you can do is say: “I don’t have the capacity I normally do right now.”

And then adjust.

Adjust expectations.
Adjust pace.
Adjust what “showing up well” actually looks like in a hard season.

Because pretending you can operate at full capacity when you’re running on empty doesn’t serve anyone.

Not you.
Not your family.
Not your clients.

What does serve everyone is honesty. Grounding. Realignment.

And maybe this is the quiet lesson underneath all of this: I have intentionally built a practice full of people who value growth, flexibility, and humanity.

And in this season, they’ve reflected that right back to me.

They’ve taught me, without trying to, that grace isn’t just something we offer others.

It’s something we have to learn how to receive. And give ourselves.

Even when it feels undeserved.
Especially when it feels undeserved.

So if you’re in a season where things feel like too much… where you’re not operating at your best… where you’re dropping balls you normally wouldn’t-

You’re not alone.

And you’re not failing.

You’re human.

And sometimes, that has to be enough.