The day my body said ‘stop’: An intense journey toward self-care and boundaries.

A story about high sensitivity, burnout, an ambulance ride to the emergency room, and why it’s been quiet on EASE your senses for the past six months

I have nothing left to give

In recent months, I’ve felt a powerful need to be alone. When friends or acquaintances ask—yet again—when we might catch up, I hear myself saying it once more.

Usually, they respond by saying how impressive it is that I’m setting boundaries and, thankfully, they also respect that. But I’m not sure if it’s truly impressive. It feels more necessary, and mostly, unavoidable. My whole being senses it: I have nothing left to give. My body is just saying ‘no.’

My hospital adventure

One Sunday evening in mid-March, I was quietly meditating before going to bed, unaware of what was to come. My daughter was asleep upstairs, and I wanted a moment to relax before bed—a familiar routine, rushing through my day only to then, if there’s time, quickly try to wind down before sleep.

But this time, my heart was racing more than usual. I felt a bit of pressure in my chest, thinking it was a panic attack, so I did what I’d trained myself to do: turn my attention to it, stay calm, knowing it would pass.

But this was different. The pressure kept building; I started to feel short of breath, trembling, sweating, and I finally panicked, losing all sense of control over my body. I had already messaged a friend to stay on standby, as I felt something was really off.

When the pressure in my chest became unbearable, I knew: I had to call 911.

911… Help!

I struggled to speak clearly through the intense trembling but somehow managed to say where I lived and that I was calling because of the increasing chest pressure. I followed the operator’s instructions, sitting on the living room floor, waiting for them to arrive. I lost all sense of time, but to me, it felt like they were there within moments, and I sat there shaking and crying beside a small bucket.

I now have immense respect for all ambulance personnel! They took such good care of me, and despite my intense fear in that moment, I felt I was in very good hands.

Hyperventilation deluxe?

The paramedics’ clear instructions helped me through it, and they soon told me it was probably nothing serious. However, because this attack—or whatever it was—had lasted so long (now, I realize it had been over 1.5 hours), they wanted to take me to the ER just in case. I wanted nothing more than to go, as the pressure in my chest and the other symptoms were still intense, and so was my fear. After spending most of the night in the emergency room and undergoing several tests, the final diagnosis was likely hyperventilation that lasted for hours, triggered by stress. Because I wasn’t in immediate danger, I was discharged quickly, and after several hours the pressure had finally subsided, so I felt ready to go home.

Crossing the line

This event was a wake-up call and the start of a new phase in my life. Up until that point, I had managed to ignore and miss all the warning signs. But since that night in the hospital, things have changed drastically. My body has taken back control, saying, ‘If you won’t take rest and care for yourself, I’ll force you to stop.’

Now, I go about my days like an 80-year-old. I used to think I was low on energy, but now I see it can get even worse. I get up, do my morning routine, and I’m already exhausted. My days are now a cycle of doing something and then resting, over and over again. As long as I keep this up, I get through the day fairly well. If I push too hard, I pay the price by starting the next day with even less energy.

A good friend told me during a walk, “Yes, Lenore, crossing the line is easy, but the road back is much longer.” He was right.

Highly sensitive and overworked

Naturally, when you’re burned out—or in my case, on the edge of a complete breakdown—you start reflecting. How did I get here? Could I have prevented this?

I’ve come to a series of new insights over the past months, and I hope to occasionally share some of them with you, my reader.

The fact is, we all have a breaking point; no one is immune. And when you’re highly sensitive, easily overstimulated, recognizing and maintaining boundaries is even more essential. Your system takes in far more stimuli daily than most people, making it more easily overwhelmed.

“I’m SO tired”

This kind of overload can go on for a long time without you really noticing.

That was my experience too: years of pushing harder, becoming ‘more productive,’ multitasking throughout the day like it was a sport, barely ever taking real breaks. Sure, I’d take a day off now and then, but I mean real vacations to let myself reset. I didn’t do that. For the past six years, since I became a mother, I’ve heard myself say how tired I am, and how I’d love to take six months off and lie on an island somewhere in a hammock. Deep down, I knew what I needed: my system to finally rest. But I didn’t make it happen, so my body is doing it for me now.

Searching for a new way forward

Now, everything revolves around finding a new mode that works, one that helps me recharge so I can slowly build back up to a normal energy level. Honestly? I haven’t found it yet. But I’m doing everything I can: physiotherapy, therapy, craniosacral therapy, acupuncture, walks in nature, and, mostly, rest. A lot of rest.

This is a time of rediscovering myself. For someone whose identity was largely tied to her productivity, a crucial question arises: ‘Who am I without all of that? What remains of me?’

Will I still have friends when I finally have the energy to go out and socialize?

Hope to see you soon!

For now, I sit with all these questions, focusing solely on staying close to myself, re-centering in my body, feeling what feels right in the moment, and acting accordingly.

About the future of EASE your senses: I’m not stepping away completely and hope to one day return to beautiful conversations here.

To you, dear reader, I send love from this unique, instructive place I find myself in, and hope to see you here again.