There are seasons of the year when the world begins to hum at a pace our bodies never agreed to.
Thanksgiving is one of them.

The grocery lists, the travel plans, the family dynamics, the pressure to show up as joyful and connected — it can all move so quickly that the subtle signs inside us get lost.
And in that swirl, many of us slip into a familiar pattern:

Noticing we’re overwhelmed…
and then reaching for something — anything — that lets us step out of ourselves for a while.

This is where numbness begins.
Not as failure, not as self-betrayal, but as a quiet turning away from the truth of how we actually feel.

Numbness Is a Response to Overwhelm, Not a Personal Flaw

Numbness is often misunderstood.
We imagine it as apathy, but it’s actually self-protection — a soft veil the body draws when too much is coming at once.

Numbness can look like:

• mindlessly scrolling for an hour

• turning the TV on without caring what’s playing

• wandering onto Facebook reels instead of tending to what matters

• staying busy instead of staying present

• overworking to avoid emotional edges

• shutting down in the face of celebration

Numbness says, “This is too much right now. Let me disconnect for a moment so you can breathe.”

There is tenderness in that instinct — even wisdom.
But numbness is not a place we’re meant to live.

When Numbness Became My Normal

In my corporate years, numbness wore the mask of productivity.

I can still remember times when my team would achieve something extraordinary — milestones that should’ve filled me with pride.
Moments when others were buzzing with celebration…

…and I felt absolutely nothing.

I wasn’t ungrateful.
I wasn’t disengaged.
I was simply too overwhelmed to feel anything at all.

My emotional energy was already overdrawn.
I had been pushing, producing, proving — long past the point where my body could keep up.
Joy couldn’t reach me because I was too far removed from myself.

That’s the part of numbness we rarely talk about:
we don’t choose it.
It rises when the system is overloaded.

The Turning Point: When Rest Revealed the Truth

In my final year as COO, my spiritual practice deepened in a way that changed everything.
Self-care stopped being a list of “shoulds” and began to feel like something I was worthy of:
soft mornings, slower breath, unhurried joy.

And when I finally allowed myself to rest — really rest — something shocking happened:

I felt what it was like to have a full battery.

I felt grounded, awake, spacious, alive.

And then Monday would come…
and the contrast would hit like a wave.
The tight chest.
The shallow breath.
The clenched jaw.
The hypervigilant mind scanning for problems.
The flatness that told me I was disconnecting again.

Numbness wasn’t strength.
It was a sign I needed something softer, warmer, more human.

That realization was the beginning of everything.

How Numbness and Nourishment Feel Different in the Body

This part is important, because the body tells the truth long before the mind catches on.

Numbness feels like:

• not being fully in your body

• shallow breathing high in the chest

• jaw tension

• a sense of boredom that’s really disconnection

• hypervigilance: scanning for what might go wrong

• losing the ability to notice beauty — the sky, the signs, the symbols

Your system goes dim.

Nourishment feels like:

• warmth

• groundedness

• space inside the mind

• breath that drops down into the belly

• a sense of being supported

• the ability to see clearly — both inward and outward

• a softening toward yourself

Your system reconnects.

Numbness protects.
Nourishment restores.

How to Move From Numbing to Nourishing

This shift is gentler than we expect.
It doesn’t require willpower; it requires attention.

Here are the practices that bring me back:

1. A few rounds of half sun salutations

Simple movements that bring me back into my body, breath by breath.

2. Three deep intentional breaths

Sometimes box breathing or bumblebee breathing — anything that helps the body soften.

3. Stepping outside for a moment

Noticing the sky, the trees, the birds, the small Beauty that I miss when I’m disconnected.

4. Asking myself, “What do you need right now?”

And waiting long enough for an answer to rise.

These are small gestures, but they break the spell of numbness and lead me home to myself — every single time.

Thanksgiving: A Holiday That Often Awakens Old Patterns

For me, Thanksgiving has always carried a mix of tenderness and tension.

As a child, the day felt overwhelming —
large families, stressed parents, too much noise for my sensitive system.
A day that should have felt warm often felt like walking on edge.

In adulthood, I often over-functioned —
doing too much, cooking too much, taking on too much —
and then sitting down to a table too drained to enjoy it.

This year, we’re keeping it simple.
Just me and two of my children, sharing a meal out at a place that honors our different needs.
Less noise.
Less pressure.
More presence.

A reminder that nourishment doesn’t require performance.
It requires honesty.

A Gentle Reminder for You

Wherever you fall on the spectrum this week — nourished, numb, overwhelmed, grounded, or somewhere in between — I want you to feel seen.

Numbness is not a flaw.
It’s a signal.
An invitation to slow your pace, soften your breath, and listen within.

And nourishment?
It’s always available.
One small choice at a time.

A Blessing for Your Inner Return

May you offer yourself the kindness you’ve long offered others.
May you feel the courage to pause, to breathe, to notice.
May numbness loosen its grip as nourishment rises softly in its place.
And may this Thanksgiving be a moment of remembering —
that you are worthy of the gentleness you seek.