The Myth of Doing It Right

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The Myth of Doing It Right

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Lately I've been learning what it really means to adjust.

Not give up. Not stop caring. Not abandon myself. Adjust.

The past couple of weeks have been rough physically and mentally. The heat has been intense and being in an environment without air conditioning made it difficult to think clearly, sleep deeply, regulate emotionally, or really do much of anything at the level I'm used to functioning at.

And I think that's been hard for me because I'm someone who genuinely likes to show up fully. I like being productive. I like being intentional. I like feeling mentally sharp and emotionally present.

So when I noticed myself slowing down, feeling deflated, struggling to focus, and needing more rest than usual, there was a part of me that immediately wanted to criticize myself for it.

Like somehow I was failing because I couldn't maintain the same pace I had before.

But I'm sharing this because I think it matters for you to see that I go through this too. That knowing the tools doesn't mean you always have the energy to use them perfectly. That doing your best sometimes looks nothing like what you imagined it would.

This is where plans need room for adjustments. I had envisioned that I would do x, y and z but when the heat was too much in a place with no AC I couldn't think — so I didn't. I took the time to strategically rest. And even though it was planned, it was still hard to do without guilt, worry, or the fear of falling behind. But eventually I did and it was so helpful.

Because there is no perfect version of showing up. There's just the version that's honest about what you actually have to give right now.

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The Voice That Kept Pushing

The myth is that just because you know what you need to do to do something well, you should be able to do it at the same caliber consistently regardless of what life is asking of you.

For example, I was still showing up for the being in my care even though I was at low capacity. It's not like I was slacking off on my mental health and wellness routine — but it just wasn't as vibrant. I wasn't as vibrant. I wasn't as invigorated. I was deflated.

So with that being said — did I fail? Or was I adapting to the change in my capacity? And is that still the right way to show up?

Now of course there are certain times when the right way is more concrete. But I'm finding more and more with life that there truly is no single right way to show up — with the variables being capacity, the desired outcome, your perspective on what that outcome looks like, and your idea of flexibility.

For the longest time I thought there was one right way to do life. But thinking that way led to more prolonged periods of burnout and depression because the expectation was shattered when I wasn't able to live up to that high standard.

And from the outside looking in, you rarely know what someone else's capacity actually is. Maybe they're in a season of replenishment after their own burnout. Maybe they simply have different circumstances than you do. Which is why comparison makes such an unstable standard.

That's why I tend to speak about things I've overcome and things I've experienced — and I share these with whoever reads them in the hopes that you can value your own journey more than that of others. Measuring yourself against others isn't why I share. I share so that you know what's possible and can do your best to reach it in your own way, at your own pace, and with your own flair and signature.

For me the inner critic wasn't saying my best wasn't enough.

It was doing something subtler than that.

It was trying to get me to keep going at the pace I had been maintaining when everything was ideal — as if the circumstances hadn't changed, as if my body and energy levels should just adapt without complaint.

Which isn't necessarily a bad impulse. But it's not a compassionate or flexible way to live either.

Life changes. Circumstances change. Energy changes.

And our expectations of ourselves need to be allowed to flex with that — not as an excuse to stop trying but as an honest acknowledgment that what your best looks like on a full night of sleep in a cool comfortable environment is going to be different from what your best looks like exhausted in a heat wave.

Both are still your best. They just look different.

And what helped me remember that was coming back to something simple:

Short and imperfect still counts. Five minutes still counts. Halfway still counts. A slower pace still counts. Showing up differently still counts.

Because the point isn't perfection. It's continuity.

It's staying connected to yourself enough that you don't completely abandon yourself during harder seasons.

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Something else that helped shift my perspective was caring for an elderly dog while feeling depleted myself.

Watching him navigate the world in his older age made me think a lot about capacity and adaptation.

This poor guy is navigating a world that's getting harder to make sense of sometimes. He moves slower. Needs more patience. Needs more support. Needs more gentleness.

And yet I never once looked at him and thought: "You should be functioning at the same level you were years ago."

I just adjusted.

I gave more grace. More patience. More understanding.

And it made me realize how often we deny ourselves that same flexibility.

Sometimes compassion becomes easier to understand when you're able to witness vulnerability outside of yourself first. And once you see it there — in someone else, in an animal, in any living being doing their best with what they have — it becomes a little harder to justify withholding it from yourself.

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I also think there's this pressure in healing spaces to always appear enlightened, disciplined, regulated, productive, and deeply connected to yourself at all times.

But honestly?

Sometimes growth looks like realizing you're exhausted before you completely burn yourself into the ground.

Sometimes growth looks like taking a nap instead of forcing yourself through another task. Sometimes it looks like drinking water and going outside for five minutes. Sometimes it looks like admitting that you don't have the bandwidth for deep inner work that day and choosing not to shame yourself for it.

That doesn't mean you stopped growing.

It means you're learning how to work with yourself instead of against yourself.

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And maybe that's really what this whole experience has been teaching me.

That there is no singular correct way to move through life.

There are just seasons. Circumstances. Energy levels. Unexpected changes. Adjustments.

And all we can really do is learn how to meet ourselves honestly within them.

Not perfectly. Honestly.

Because sometimes your best is vibrant and energized and focused.

And other times your best is simply choosing not to abandon yourself during a difficult week.

Both matter.

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And if what you're moving through right now is something you've never faced before — if this is genuinely new territory — that deserves its own kind of honoring too.

There's a particular tenderness required when you're learning something for the first time through living it. The compassion and understanding you need for yourself in those moments is even more important.

Maybe that looks like talking to someone who has been through something similar. Maybe it looks like simply sitting with yourself and saying — hey. This is new. I'm doing my best. And that is enough.

Because it is.

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If you're in a season right now where your capacity feels lower than usual, I hope you know that adapting doesn't make you weak.

Resting strategically doesn't make you lazy. Slowing down doesn't mean you failed. Adjusting doesn't mean you're falling behind.

It just means you're human.

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Author's Note

I think one of the hardest parts about growth is accepting that even when you know better, you won't always have the energy, clarity, or capacity to embody everything perfectly all the time.

And that's okay.

The goal isn't perfection. It's awareness. It's honesty. It's learning how to return to yourself a little faster each time instead of abandoning yourself completely when life gets hard.

Because difficult seasons will come and go.

That doesn't mean the tools stopped working.

Sometimes the most important thing the tools can help you do is survive the season with a little more compassion for yourself while you move through it.

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