​When Life Feels Like 'A Lot' - How to Reconnect and Recharge

Image by MarionF from Pixabay

There are times when everything feels like “a lot,” and it’s hard to gauge what a healthy balance of effort and rest looks like. Being highly capable and accustomed to pushing ourselves, many of us often take on more than we realise. It’s easy to lose sight of what’s reasonable for someone with our age, stage, and responsibilities. I’m certainly learning that just because I can do something—and even enjoy it—it doesn’t mean it isn’t wearing me down.

Take this week, for example. Amid the usual school runs, work, and chores, I spent a couple of days up in Auckland. After the morning drop-offs, I picked up my eldest part way through the day, and we drove three hours to the city, navigating our way to a hotel near the concert venue.

It was her first concert—her first time in a crowd of thousands of people—and the excitement of a road trip with her was indisputable. At the same time, all the driving, navigation, and even figuring out how to access the underground car park added layers of stress.

Then there was the two-hour wait to enter the venue for our allocated seating on a glorious sunny evening. Once seated, we had another hour before Miss McRae graced us with her presence on stage. But our seats were excellent, and the opener, Charlie on a Friday, was a pleasant surprise with his great voice and solid tunes. It was fantastic to experience the magic when thousands of uplifted people sing in unison.

But I won’t deny that my joints and muscles were aching from all the standing and sensory overload. When Tate finally arrived on stage amid a flurry of flashing lights and loud noise, everyone leapt to their feet. I groaned, “What’s the point of a seat if I’m not going to sit in it?” and felt about a thousand years old. Still, it was a great night, and I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, even amid this busy time of year.

When I feel this kind of fatigue creeping in, it helps to check in with myself on a deeper level and ask: “What do I truly need right now?” rather than what I think I should be able to handle.

The answer isn’t always straightforward, but it often includes more rest, a slower pace, or letting go of a few small things that are taking up mental or emotional space. Even small adjustments in my routine or taking brief breaks can help create a buffer, allowing me to recharge bit by bit. I’m slowly learning that it’s perfectly okay to rest without feeling the need to “earn” it.

Living in the Southern Hemisphere, I’ve noticed how spring, coming right before the holiday season, feels at odds with my childhood rhythms. Back then, the long, restorative summer holidays of the Northern Hemisphere balanced out the hustle and excitement of the year-end season. Here, it’s all go, and there is no natural pause midway.

Amid everything feeling like "a lot," it’s easy to focus solely on the endless “to-do” list, on the aspirations and responsibilities that pull at our attention. There’s a constant juxtaposition between wanting to achieve more—manifesting aspects of my purpose in the world—and feeling the weight of it all.

Recently, I stumbled across a set of questions about success that reminded me of a promise I’d made to myself: to stop and smell the roses—both figuratively and literally. As it happens, our roses are in full bloom right now, and they look and smell divine.

In that moment of reflection, I turned to journaling. Taking stock of my year so far felt like a release—the tension in my body eased, and my shoulders dropped a good few inches. Reflecting on all the personal growth and healing I’ve worked through, alongside navigating unexpected formal disputes and negotiations, I was struck by just how much I’ve managed. Supporting my eldest through the transition to a much larger school—meeting new faces, forming relationships, and figuring out the best ways to support her—has been a journey in itself. Looking back, it was clear: pausing to review the year has been a game-changer.

I know in my heart what truly matters—time with the people I love. That’s why I prioritise my kids when they’re with me, and carve out time for myself and my partner when they’re not. On those fronts, I’m doing better than I often give myself credit for. Then there’s my writing, which has quietly become just as important. After decades of searching for “the thing I want to do,” my book projects revealed themselves without any fanfare. They simply showed up—so much so that I even forgot to journal it among my achievements! And yet, the sheer time and energy I spent searching for that elusive sense of purpose in years gone past were immense.

I do, admittedly, expect a lot from myself. My mind and imagination seem to run on a much faster track than I can physically keep up with. This makes for a frustrating juxtaposition: on one hand, I know I need more rest and a slower pace; on the other, I feel such a strong urge to do more, to make progress, to manifest these visions.

And then there’s the ever-present reality of daily life. It’s one thing to give myself permission to rest, reflect, or reconnect with my intentions, but there’s still the vacuum filters that hadn’t been cleaned in 18 months, the cars that needed a thorough vacuum, the garden that’s been calling for my attention, and the windows, bathroom, and spiderwebs that need cleaning. There’s the cushion that needs resewing, the laundry, the cooking, the shopping, the tidying, the toys to sort, the furniture to sell. The list feels endless.

Spring is naturally a busy time of year, and this flurry of activity has reminded me how disconnected I’ve been from some of these aspects of life. For so long, my focus has been on healing, reflecting, and writing, while juggling the usual weekly cycles of chores like groceries, tidying, and cleaning. Now, reconnecting with these other parts of life feels both overwhelming and grounding—a reminder of how intertwined the practical and purposeful can be.

Grappling with the balance between our aspirations, our physical and emotional needs, and the realities of daily life is so layered. Acknowledging the desire to "do more", while also recognising the wisdom in slowing down and tuning in, certainly gave me food for thought.

As I reflected on this busy season, I started to see something shift in how I relate to all the tasks I’ve been juggling. Chores and routines—the ones that often sit in the background or feel like distractions—aren’t just a necessary part of life. They’re a form of support, the scaffolding that holds up the things I truly care about.

When I vacuum the car, clear the spiderwebs, or even tidy up the kitchen, I’m not just crossing items off a never-ending list. I’m creating a space that allows me to breathe, to think more clearly, and to focus on the people and projects that matter most to me. By connecting these seemingly mundane actions to my bigger intentions, they feel less like burdens and more like a quiet affirmation of what I value.

Reflecting on all of this, I’m reminded that balance isn’t something we achieve once and for all—it’s something we adjust constantly. The push and pull between what we aspire to do and what we truly need is part of the dance of life. As I slow down to take stock, I realise that even the simplest actions—resting when I need to, tending to the chores, or journaling to clear my mind—are powerful ways to honor what matters most.

What about you? As the end of the year approaches, how do you balance the drive to "do more" with the wisdom of slowing down? What might you need to let go of to create space for the things that truly nourish you? Whether it’s pausing to smell the roses—literally or figuratively—or reconnecting with the scaffolding that supports your life, I hope you’ll take a moment to ask yourself: “What do I truly need right now?” The answer might surprise you.

If you enjoyed reading this, you may enjoy Is Your Peace of Mind in Flux? 7 Ways to Ground Yourself With Grace, Overwhelm? Worry? Lack of Confidence? Parts Work and Its Importance to Your Growth,  and I Really Want to Go From Overwhelm to Clarity and Confidence. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.