If "I'm Fine" Is Your Default, This Is for You.

A few days ago, my husband did a sort of intervention on me. 

You see, for months I've been heads down building an Institute, creating practitioner programs, submitting conference abstracts, redesigning my website, and helping my current practitioner students build their businesses while continuing to heal themselves.


I love it. I TRULY love every minute of it. 

But it is also...a lot.


Add to that the last three months have been some of the most difficult of my life—and also some of the most beautiful (as often happens)—and, well...

I'm tired.


If I am completely honest, I’ve been holding myself together with a few threads.



And here’s where the problem comes in:


When this much is going on, instead of saying "Hey! Maybe this is too much! Maybe I should take a break!" like a normal human...
MY default is to grind. 

To work harder. 

To MAKE things happen. 

To look like everything is TOTALLY fine, thank you very much.



Faced with one more thing to do when I am already at max capacity, instead of –oh, I don't know, saying NO or asking for help–I realize that it's more comfortable for me to go right to:

“I’m fine! I’ve got it! I’ll just spin a few more plates and juggle a few more balls - I don’t need anything!”
It’s the easiest refrain in the world for me.


In a lot of ways, it makes me feel as safe as the little yellow security blanket I had as a kid.

His name was "Key" - short for "Blankey." (I know. 😂)

He went everywhere with me until he became nothing but threads.

And somehow, even those last few threads still made me feel safe.



Then it occurred to me:
Doing everything and never asking for help and taking care of everyone but myself is like Key. 

It’s something I know.
It’s safe.
I can wrap myself in the frayed threads of complete independence and never needing anything and wave it like a badge of honor. 

And, after rambling about how tired I was a few days ago while still not putting anything down, my husband came in with this pointed question:
“Love, has working harder ever really worked out?”

Somewhat defensively, I started to talk about all the things I'd accomplished and my lovely new website and how awesome my practitioner certifications are now when my husband interrupted me, “WITHOUT completely sacrificing yourself and making yourself sick?”


Fudge. 



And then he followed with, “If you had a client that had the last couple of weeks you’ve had, what would you tell them to do?”



Kinda twisted the knife there…



And sigh,..he’s right.
I know exactly what I would tell a client, “Hey, it’s okay to take time to allow yourself to fall apart a bit. To grieve. To say that it’s too much and to ask for help. It’s okay to need support. You can - and must - put things down. And, you know what? When you do, things usually work out.”‍

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So…

Why wasn't I taking my own advice?

And why might it be hard for you, too?


Well, let me ask you a few questions that might just clarify the matter:

Growing up, were you allowed to be sad......or did you quickly learn it was safer to be "easy" or to lock your emotions in?


When you were overwhelmed, were you met with comfort......or with some version of,

"You'll be fine."

"You're strong."

"You'll figure it out."


Were you the one who quietly held everyone else together?


Did you become so good at taking care of other people that you literally do not know how to allow someone else to take care of you - and even if you did, it wouldn't feel safe to you?


If those questions stirred something in you...there's a reason.


Your nervous system learned something incredibly important very early in life:

It learned that taking care of everyone else was SAFE.

Taking care of yourself…well, that absolutely was NOT.

Maybe asking for help was met with disappointment.

Maybe expressing your needs made someone withdraw.

Maybe your feelings were minimized or ignored.

Maybe there simply wasn't anyone available to hold them because you were the one holding everyone else together.


Whatever the reason, your nervous system adapted beautifully.

It learned to survive by becoming capable...independent…reliable.

The one who could always carry ONE more thing.

Honestly, I bet you're great at it. I know I am.

But here's the tricky part:

That adaptation doesn't simply disappear because you become an adult.

Your life is different now, and your relationships change. 



But your nervous system remembers the child who had to hold it all together, and whispers the same old message, trying to keep you safe:


"Keep going, just push a little harder.”

"Don't be a burden. If you don't handle it, who will?"

"Maybe this time you'll be good enough.”

"No one is coming."‍

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And that pattern might even actually be showing up in your life now, as if it’s proof that these old patterns are still true.

You might be surrounded by people and situations who keep asking you to take on everything.

You might be the one that everyone comes to for help, but no one checks on. 

(Unfortunately, we often choose the same patterns and kinds of people again and again unconsciously until we shift the belief that's what is normal or what we deserve.)

But even if that IS the case right now, it’s absolutely possible that you can have something vastly different. 

You can feel safe and heard in relationships and in life.


You can be seen.

You can take up space.

And I bet, if you look, there are those in your life that are standing at the ready to help–if you are able to allow yourself to accept it.

Your nervous system feels that asking for help is weak–but asking for help is actually strong (and very vulnerable, if you've never received it before). 

In fact, sometimes the safest, strongest, healthiest thing we can do is exactly the opposite of what our nervous system is telling us.

Sometimes healing looks like letting someone carry something for you.

Sometimes it looks like saying,"Truthfully? I'm not okay today."


Sometimes it looks like booking the massage.

Taking the afternoon off.

Calling a friend.

Letting yourself cry.

Or actually receiving for once, with no expectation of anything from you.

And OOF...

Receiving might be one of the hardest things many of us ever learn to do when it wasn't the norm.

As I pondered all of this as I was lying on the massage table today (which my husband booked for me as part of his intervention), I realized something.


Over the last few months, yes, I have been working hard.
I've been pushing on through some pretty difficult experiences and probably not been giving myself enough grace. 

But I also realized that I've been building more than a new website….

More than practitioner programs….

More than an Institute….


I've been building the kind of place I wish more of us had…a place where thoughtful helpers can come together and say,

"I'm struggling."

"I don't know."

"Can you help me think this through?"

Without feeling weak.

Without feeling like they're too much.

Without feeling like they have to earn support first.


That's the culture I'm committed to creating, whether it's inside my practitioner certifications, mastermind conversations, programs and training, upcoming live Founder Sessions, or the memberships that are in the works...


I ALWAYS want people to feel exactly three things:

Safe.

Heard.

Supported.


Because I don't think healing happens in isolation…

I think healing happens when we finally experience something our nervous system may have never fully known before:

That we don't have to carry everything alone.


So if today you're exhausted...

If you're the one everyone depends on...

If you've gotten really, really good at saying,"I'm fine...totally fine thankyouverymuch!” while gulping your 5th coffee of the day, holding back tears, and trying your best not to look like you are actually falling apart while quietly carrying the weight of the world...


Can I offer you the same invitation my husband offered me?


Put something down…just one thing.

Let someone love you.

Let someone help.

Let yourself receive.

I have a feeling the world won't fall apart if you do.
 In fact, it might just become a little more beautiful.


Much love,

Tara ❤️

P.S. Every movement begins with a conversation.

These journal entries are reflections from Tara Meyer-Robson as she builds The Institute for Holistic and Intuitive Science®—sharing lessons, questions, discoveries, and the moments that shape the journey.

If this reflection resonated with you, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

❤️