Exhausted but Can’t Stop? Why Slowing Down Feels So Hard

I've been asking myself this question repeatedly since the start of the year. Like many, I like to set intentions for the new year, and as we approached 2026, I found myself dreaming about what it would be like to have a lighter schedule and more time for other things. I knew this wouldn't be an overnight change due to my schedule being full of amazing weekly, biweekly and monthly clients that I wasn't just going to stop seeing. I talked to my therapist and came up with a plan to close off spots as they opened up, which somehow happened sooner than I expected. The start of the year often means insurance changes, and a few of my clients had to stop working with me due to their insurance changing, freeing up some space in my schedule. This is what I wanted, right? For the past 8 years, I had been seeing 7 clients most days, even 8 sometimes, and often seeing well over 30 clients per week. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my job and the work that I do. Most of the time, it doesn't even feel like working. I truly look forward to seeing my clients, getting updates on what's going on with them, hearing their highs and lows, celebrating with them through their successes, and being so proud of their growth. But, I'm human, too, and as much as I'd like to think my mental and emotional capacity is unlimited, unfortunately, it isn't. I get drained sometimes. I get overwhelmed. I avoid tasks (mainly admin and billing stuff that I hate). I even feel like it impacts my capacity to do simple tasks outside of work, like scheduling appointments, making phone calls, or even researching which detergent I want to switch to. I end up just giving up because I've reached my capacity and I just want to shut my brain off. Sound familiar?

Now, I won't go into the specifics, but growing up, I got the message that being busy is a good thing and being lazy is bad. Somewhere along the way, that message stopped feeling like something I was taught and started feeling like a fact about who I am. Being productive wasn't just something I did, it became proof that I was okay, that I was good, that I was worth something. And when that's the story running underneath everything, slowing down doesn't feel like rest, it feels like falling behind, like you're about to be found out.

Why slowing down feels like a threat, not a relief

Here's the part nobody really tells you. When your worth has been tied to how much you do for as long as you can remember, an empty hour on your calendar doesn't feel like freedom, it feels like a problem. You sit down to watch a show in the middle of the afternoon and you can feel the guilt creeping in before the opening credits are even over. You finally get a free Saturday and you spend it cleaning out a closet that was honestly fine, because at least that counts as something. You tell people you're "just tired," because that feels more acceptable than saying you're running on empty and you don't actually know how to stop.

Sound like you too?

This is the thing I keep coming back to with the women I work with, the ones who look, from the outside, like they have it all together. The degrees, the title, the reputation as the person everyone goes to. And underneath it, the same quiet exhaustion, the same belief they can't quite name, that they're only as valuable as they are useful. They learned it young, usually from people who loved them, which is exactly what makes it so hard to see. It doesn't feel like a belief. It just feels like them.

Clearing your schedule doesn't clear the belief

This is what surprised me most. I got the lighter schedule I'd been dreaming about, and the busyness in my head didn't magically quiet down with it. And honestly? Since I first started writing this, that lighter schedule has filled right back up. I'm expanding my business, and with that comes a fuller plate and being a lot busier than I've been in a while. I got myself a little room, and I quietly handed it right back. Because the schedule was never really the problem. The story underneath it was. You can take everything off your plate and still feel that low hum of "I should be doing more," because the part of you that learned busy equals safe is still running the show.

That's actually good news, if you sit with it. If the problem were just your calendar, you'd be stuck waiting for some imaginary future where everything finally calms down (it won't, by the way, there's always more). But if the problem is a belief you picked up a long time ago, then it's something you can actually look at. You can question it. You can start to pull apart "I'm someone who rests sometimes" from "I'm lazy and falling apart."

Slowing down isn't laziness. Rest isn't something you have to justify or build a case for, and it's not a prize waiting at the end of a long enough list. It's allowed to just be something that fills you back up, the same way a good meal or a real conversation or a slow morning does. You don't need a reason. You're allowed to want a lighter, slower, fuller life simply because you want it.

I'm still in it, for what it's worth. I just bought a new iMac for my office, and every evening I notice myself drifting toward it, like it's quietly pulling me to do one more thing, because there's always something. I still catch myself reaching for my phone the second I sit down, still feel that pull to be useful, to be doing (I literally haven't even binged a new show in weeks!). But it doesn't run me the way it used to, and that shift didn't come from doing more. It came from finally looking at the story I'd been believing about myself and asking, quietly, is this even true, and is it even mine?

If you read this and felt a little seen, that's not an accident. And it's also not a life sentence. The way you see yourself can change, and when it does, the way you live tends to follow.

I'm building more of this right now, more of the work that helps women untangle the story underneath the busyness. So if any of this felt like I was reading your mind, stay close and follow along, there's a lot more coming.

The Rose Colored Couch is here to inspire, encourage reflection, and educate, but these posts aren't a substitute for therapy. My hope is to help you shift how you see yourself and your story. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and be gentle with yourself along the way.

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Why Children of Immigrants Feel Guilty for Choosing Their Own Life

By Najwa Mohamed • October 4, 2026

If you were born and raised in America and your parents came here from another country, there's a good chance you know a very specific kind of guilt. It shows up when you make a decision for yourself and do what's best for you, and you can feel, sometimes without anyone saying a word, that it's not what your parents wanted. Before I go any further, I want to be very clear about something. This is not criticizing immigrant parents, and it's not shaming anyone. I just want to name what comes up and help you understand it better. You can have great parents, like objectively great parents, have a good relationship with them, look up to them, and still experience this. It doesn't have to be all bad. It also won't look exactly the same across every culture. Middle Eastern, South Asian, East Asian, African, European and Latino families are all different, but the themes I see come up are very similar. Where this guilt comes from Your parents most likely gave up a lot to come here. Maybe they came as children or adolescents, or maybe they came as adults. Either way, they likely left behind a harder life to create a better one for themselves and their future children. If they came here as adults, that means they spent their entire childhood and adolescence in a different country, being raised by parents likely from that country, which was likely different in some ways from how American-born parents were raised. Those experiences matter. Your parents developed beliefs about themselves and about the world based on the experiences they had, and that's going to affect how they parent, even subtly. If they live in a community surrounded by other people from their country, or came here with their whole family, those expectations can be even stronger. Sometimes it sounds like this: you have to be married by a certain age, you have to marry this type of person, you have to have this type of job and make X amount of money, you have to carry yourself in a certain way. If you don't, you're a disappointment, or you're bringing down your family. Your parents don't even have to say it directly. Sometimes you can just feel it. You can develop a belief from those interactions and the messages you've been sent over the years, and it goes something like this: they sacrificed so much, so I need to do this in return. I need to pay them back by living the life they want for me. On top of that, you're often navigating two cultures at once, the one at home and the one everywhere else, and it can feel like you don't fully belong in either. That can make every choice you make for yourself feel even heavier. My own experience My dad is from Egypt, and he came here by himself when he was 25. He came because he wanted a different life for himself, and he left behind his whole family and the country he grew up in. He has always been open-minded and approached parenting differently than other immigrant parents might have. He instilled certain values in me, but never forced or pressured me to do anything I didn't want to do, and I will forever be grateful to him for that. Still, a lot of the values he was raised with came with him, like working hard and doing the best you can in school (there were definitely expectations for school). When I was 13, my parents bought me a horse, but I had to work to help pay for the expenses. I started cleaning stalls at the barn on the weekends to help pay for my horse's board, and I kept doing that all throughout high school, along with working another job. My parents gave me so much, but they also instilled a strong work ethic in me that has carried me into growing two businesses of my own. Choosing their life isn't how you repay them One of my favorite quotes is from Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." I think that applies to any feeling, including guilt. No one can make you feel guilty unless you allow it. You have to live your own life. If you end up choosing the life your parents wanted for you and you're not happy, you will eventually build up resentment toward them, and that's not going to benefit anyone. You can honor and respect your parents for everything they did for you and for all of their sacrifices, while also doing what's best for you. There are so many ways to show that love, respect and appreciation. Choosing the life they want for you is not the way to repay them. Choosing a life that lights you up, the same way they chose a different life for themselves... that's how you honor it. Part of that is figuring out your own values, which is something everyone has to do, whether or not you have immigrant parents. It starts in adolescence and early adulthood and continues well into your 20s and 30s, and even beyond. What do I value? What is important to me? A lot of your values will probably be the same as your family's, but not all of them, and that's okay. It's important to figure that out separately from your parents, so you know what path you're meant for and your choices come from what matters to you rather than from obligation. When choosing yourself feels uncomfortable Choosing your own life involves a number of decisions, including how you want to dress, where you want to live, what career you want, the friends and relationships you have, or the hobbies you enjoy. It can feel really uncomfortable when you start making your own decisions and your parents aren't happy, or they seem disappointed. You can be a full-fledged adult, living at home or on your own, and still feel that disappointment. It might also feel scary, and it might even feel like you're betraying them, or that they'll be angry and never forgive you. It's okay if it feels uncomfortable. That doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong, and it doesn't mean you should stop. If you want to keep a close relationship with your parents and choosing your own life feels like it would put that at risk, I gently encourage you to ask yourself: What would sacrificing your own happiness actually do to your relationship with your parents? Would that benefit you or them? What is holding you back from choosing your life? You were never obligated to sacrifice your own happiness to please your parents. I don't think your parents would truly want that either. You don't have to figure this out alone If this is something you're struggling with, please reach out to a professional so you have space to talk it through. Untangling guilt, family expectations and who you actually want to be is a lot to carry on your own. If you're ready to start figuring out who you are and creating a life that feels like yours, that's exactly what my 3-month one to one coaching program, Becoming Her, was created for. Learn more about Becoming Her here. Your life is yours, and it's meant to be lived in a way that is fulfilling for you. The Rose Colored Couch is here to inspire, encourage reflection, and educate, but these posts aren't a substitute for therapy. My hope is to help you shift how you see yourself and your story. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and be gentle with yourself along the way.

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Why You See Yourself the Way You Do: How Our Beliefs Are Formed

By Najwa Mohamed • June 14, 2026

Where our beliefs come from, and why they quietly shape everything we see.

I know how it feels to balance family expectations with the desire to build a life that’s truly your own. As the daughter of an Egyptian father and an American mother, I’ve lived the tension of navigating multiple worlds, feeling torn between roles, and striving to honor both my roots and my dreams.

Through my own therapy and self-discovery, I learned to release the beliefs that kept me small and embrace my authentic self.

Since 2018, I’ve helped women from immigrant families do the same. My clients often say they feel seen and understood, sometimes for the first time. This is therapy with someone who understands the pressures you carry and walks beside you as you move through them.