This week’s blog takes a more personal turn—a reflection sparked by a weekend that didn’t go quite as planned.
Recently, I flew to Melbourne for a rare sporting event: the Wallabies versus the British Lions, a match that rolls around only once every 12 years. Rugby isn’t really my thing, but my amazing husband is passionate about it, so this trip was for him—a chance to revel in something he truly loves.
I’m usually happy to travel anywhere, and a weekend in Melbourne sounded like a relaxing break. Or so I thought.
Not long after we arrived, I started feeling off. Nothing dramatic—just flat, vaguely unwell. My digestive system felt out of sorts, and I couldn’t muster the energy to engage. I figured an early night would fix things.
Instead, I woke the next morning feeling inexplicably sad. I couldn’t shake it, so my husband and I went to breakfast—hoping food might lift my spirits. It was during that quiet moment over coffee and eggs that something clicked: I was stressed.
Really stressed.
Reflecting aloud, I saw what I hadn’t in the whirlwind of day-to-day life—I was juggling too many balls, and they’d all come tumbling down. I’d become prime real estate for the cortisol monster, and my body was staging a protest. I was stunned. I hadn’t seen it coming. It wasn’t until I stopped moving that I realized how overwhelmed I’d become. My tears—my personal stress alarm—confirmed it.
So… I did the thing I tell others to do.
I ate well. I went on a long hike. I returned to my breath and the practices that help me feel grounded and whole. By afternoon, I felt lighter. My body responded to the reset. I could enjoy the sport, the city, and the company—fully present in a weekend that had so much to offer.
Here’s what I learned:
Even when we understand the science of well-being, and even when we preach self-care, the chaos of everyday life can blindside us. Stress sneaks in silently. Sometimes, we need to hit pause—not because everything is falling apart, but to check if we’re actually okay underneath the surface.
I’m grateful for this weekend. It reminded me that I’m human. And that being human means sometimes missing our own signals—until we’re forced to pay attention.
So, let me ask you:
Do you need to schedule a stop day in your life?
A full, guilt-free check-in to see if you’re really OK?
Do you need to force a stop day in your life for a proper check in to make sure you are OK?
