It should have taken fifteen minutes. If I were really slow, 30 minutes--at the most--for this simple task.

But four hours later, I was still trying to get it to work. With each try, each tweak, each fix, my hopes would rise and then be dashed. I’m sure you can imagine my frustration.

My left shoulder was sore and tight from being held up by my ears for hours. Leaning too far forward over the desk,  I felt pressure from down my neck, like a hand pushing me forward. Everything about me was tense, hardly the ease I'm consciously trying to cultivate.

In times like this, my persistence is something I’m proud of. But in this case, my focus had become more fight than flow. I was getting nowhere because of my nervous system state.

Finally, I looked up and out my window at my horses. Right then, I realized that even if it meant I got further behind (which is what I was really afraid of), I had to get outside.

The Realization Beneath the Frustration

Somewhere between the doorway and the pasture, I saw the pattern clearly.

This "I just have to finish this" energy shows up not just in my work, but in my life. You probably know it, too--the urge to squeeze in one more email, one more errand, one more effort before I can feel complete. It feels productive, but really, it's fight. In this particular case, I felt like I was trying to "beat" the computer. (It sounds ridiculous to say it out loud.)

When I'm in that mode, everything narrows. My vision. My thinking. And certainly my creativity. My willingness to pause goes out the window. The more I try to finish, the smaller my world becomes. And what started as productivity turns into pressure.

When your nervous system shifts into fight mode, your thinking brain goes offline. All that matters is winning, finishing, proving. 

This is why perfectionism feels so compulsive—it's not a personality flaw, it's a survival response

The ingrained pattern is that if I can finish this thing (whatever it is), I can check the box and be done with it.

But what I experience when I  accomplish things from this place of frustration isn’t pride, happiness or a connection with the outcome or my values. Usually, I'm so tired of looking at it that I never go back.

This kind of intensity doesn't create joy — for me or anyone else.

It Shows Up in All Kinds of Relationships

This pattern doesn't just happen with technology.

I can see it in my relationships too — with family and my horses. I'll find myself saying I want more connection, more presence, more closeness. But underneath the words, if my nervous system is already activated because I'm trying really hard, I'm no longer attuning; I'm pursuing.



Asking for connection from a place of desperation only pushes them further away. I can't say I blame them. I feel the same way. When someone is reaching for you from a tight, contracted place, you can feel it. It feels like an expectation, not an invitation.

What Brought Me Back

The only way out of fight mode is through the body. I couldn't think my way back to being regulated—I had to move.

I pushed back from my desk. Shook out my arms. Jumped up and down a few times. Then I stopped and stood there, feeling my feet on the floor, grounding myself.

I took a deep. slow breath, feeling it sink into my belly. I stretched my arms wide as I felt into the environment around me. I remembered all the love and beauty that’s out there and I reminded myself that the goodness of the universe is for me, not against me.

Standing there, I felt like I was calling pieces of myself back to me. Pieces that had gotten swept away or left behind in all that anxiety and pressure, when I was so narrowly focused on "winning."

Gradually, my arms came back together again. I could feel a sense of heat and fire in my heart. I took another deep breath and allowed that sensation to sink into my belly.

And then it became an offering, instead of something I was trying to push out.

My whole being felt more expansive. So much more like playfulness and joy.

Creating from this place is my goal because when I do, both the process and the outcome are full of life and joy, instead of grind and pressure.

An Invitation

For you, it may not be a form on your computer. It could be a conversation that's not landing the way you hoped (ever felt the need to prove you're "right"—like I have?), or a project that keeps hitting walls, or reaching for connection and somehow feeling further away.

Walking away from the task isn't giving up. It's coming back to yourself. And when you're present in your own body, you're naturally connected to everything else — the person you're talking to, the work you're creating, the relationships you're building. That's where real connection lives, and the kind of completion that actually feels satisfying.

I wonder what you'll do next time you notice your frustration rising and your joy retreating.

The next time you catch yourself in that "get 'er done" energy — whether it's with a task or a person — I invite you to pause (especially if you don't think you have time.)

Take a breath. Notice the experience in your body.

Then go move it. Shake, stomp, jump. Open your arms. Look around your space.

As you come back to yourself, feel your breath and listen to what your body wants next. I promise it knows.

Learn to Work WITH Your Body, Not Against It

This practice of noticing activation and returning to regulation isn't something you figure out once and you're done. It's something you practice, refine, and deepen over time.

That's what we do over at The Unshakeable Woman. Through embodiment practices and nervous system tools, you learn to recognize the subtle signals your system sends before frustration takes over. You build the capacity to pause, regulate, and choose your response instead of being hijacked by the push to finish, fix, or force.

When you work with your body instead of overriding it, everything shifts. You show up more present in your relationships. You create from a place of aliveness instead of pressure. You stop pushing people away when what you really want is connection.

If you're ready to practice presence over pressure, I'd love to support you. Learn more about The Unshakeable Woman.

Warmly,
Kathy Taylor

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