Unpacking the "Power Through to Potato on the Couch" Cycle
Explaining the physiology of how we are working
Before we dig in, you know the drill. Increasing the impact of Making Sense is a community affair. Share generously, comment, hit that heart and let’s strive together.
This is the story of a nervous system being stuck.
Lucy is an early career professional, working at a start-up that is going through a round of funding. She hasn’t slept through the night in… she can’t remember how long.
She’s up early, packing snacks for the day (because of course, she’s in office), replying to emails between organizing her bag and getting ready, coordinating a birthday gift on the commute in, all while juggling a work call on speakerphone. One thing leads to another and not only does she skip breakfast, she also misses lunch. Thank god for the snacks, though between meetings, messages, and emails she’s hardly had time to open a container, let alone chew.
By the time she gets home, she’s completely spent and knows she wants to exercise, but she can’t. There’s nothing left to give. There’s still more work to do, also.
She opens her laptop. There’s lots of scrolling, some email monitoring, an order from Uber Eats, Netflix, some thinking through that big project that’s hers to sort out... It’s like she’s been at 110% alert energy all day, and in the evening, she can only manage to muster to herself to 10% energy, if that.
It’s a light switch, on or pretty much off.
When it’s finally time to sleep, something she has been looking forward to since she woke up, something strange happens. Her body won’t stop buzzing. Lucy’s brain won’t slow down. She can’t relax. Can’t find ease. Even though her spirit is exhausted, at a 0% energy (or even in deficit now), her body and her brain pushing her to stay alert, awake, and vigilant.
It’s like this most nights. She lies there, thinking about everything that she has to do tomorrow, about what she didn’t do today, about what could go wrong and how to be prepared. Sometimes, rarely, she passes out instantly, only to wake up three hours later: heart racing, mind alert, body bracing. She runs through the same rolodex of worries and starts the process all over again.
Lucy wants to rest. She needs to rest. But she can’t.
It’s like this for her. Every day.
She’s exhausted, grateful for so much of her life, and also miserable.
The drive to achieve isn’t just an attitude, it’s also a physiological pattern.
Our bodies are wired to engage in the world in specific ways, whether we’re conscious of it or not. Part of that complex wiring is our nervous system, and it’s built to keep you safe. It does so by shifting between 3 different states that exist along a spectrum - like a dimmer switch.
Peak performance is having access to the full range of lighting options, the full dimmer switch. What we want is flexibility to meet the moment, as opposed to being all on or all off.
Middle of the Dimmer Switch: Regulated
This is your "connected and curious" spectrum of lighting. It’s how your body shows up when it feels safe.
Performance-wise?
This is where we collaborate best.
We’re creative, thoughtful, able to zoom out and in with ease and mobility.
We can tolerate stress, meet challenges with perspective, and support others while staying anchored in complexity and our preferences. Nuance lives here.
The stories we tell ourselves when we are regulated sounds like:
“I can meet challenges in my own way, in my own time, and people will help me.”
“LFG!” from a place of secure readiness, excitement and joy.
“Let me think about that” (weighing the options meaningfully with perspective)
Top Range of the Dimmer Switch - HIGH INTENSITY LIGHTING: Mobilized (Sympathetic)
When our body senses a threat, big or small, real or imagined, past or present, your dimmer switch moves to the very top of the range: nothing can hide, everything is in the light where it can be monitored. It’s your nervous system saying, "something important is at stake” or “danger, pay attention.”
Performance-wise?
This is where we often power-through. We’re focused, intense, driven, instinctive and reactive. We meet deadlines, manage deliverables, close deals, litigate, launch new platforms, sell on a roadshow, manage crises, and on and on.
It is where many Strivers live, every moment of every day. It’s a state of vigilance, or preparedness, that serves them in high stakes moments … and gets in the way when they want to move slower, feel satisfied, connect, or be present.
When we are mobilized, it’s easy to miss meals (or eat constantly without realizing it), to beg time off from the things and people you love, to feel isolated and also powerful, to neglect your hobbies.
The longer we spend mobilized at the top of the light switch, vigilant against any and all threats, the more uncomfortable (and less possible) shifting states and dimming the lights becomes.
Without practice moving between states, we lose access to our dimmer.
It’s not just the ability to slow down and fall asleep at night, it’s the ability to sit still and read a book. High light intensity isn’t about reflection and growth, it’s about readiness and action.
The stories here sound like:
“This has to be perfect.”
“I don’t have time.”
“I am so much better than {so and so}”
Bottom Range of the Dimmer Switch - LOW INTENSITY LIGHTING: Dorsal (Sympathetic)
This is the body's last-resort lighting option, it shows up when effort doesn’t feel possible anymore, doesn’t feel fruitful anymore, doesn’t feel generative. It’s the cost of caring too much for too long, and is marked by an overwhelming sense of inefficacy. When pushing feels pointless. Everything feels like too much. So we disconnect, disengage and try to minimize the damage.
Performance-wise?
We can consider the desire to withdraw, the bottom of our dimmer switch range, as a cry for recovery. It’s the longing to unplug after a hard push or to stay in bed longer (not wanting to start the day). When things feel relentless, it’s the stubborn desire to live a life free from all the demands. The desire to be unbothered. To be left alone.
The experience of dorsal (low light range) is far from comfortable. It might feel painful, hollow, exhausting and draining. Sometimes it feels like nothing at all. It can look like burnout, checking out, avoidance, hiding (literally under a blanket), insecurity, apathy or withdrawal.
In a room full of near darkness, everything seems to take more effort out of you - it requires more somehow, when you have less.
Most painful of all, is how devoid of hope the darkness can be.
Similar to mobilization, the longer we live in the darkness the more impossible it can feel to even imagine the light. The less able we are to shift states, to access our dimmer.
We swing between full-on and completely shut down, not able to access anything between.
The story in your head might sound like:
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ll never catch up.”
“If only I was disciplined enough.”
Let’s Revisit Lucy…
… and the long days of her life.
Lucy is stuck at the top of her dimmer switch. It’s to the point where she’s on or off, she can’t adjust her responses with any flexibility or specificity. While she is high functioning (getting things done) she is also exhausted and unable to shift into connection or withdrawal.
What that means is, she’s not actually responsive to what’s happening in her life. At any given moment, she’s just running on “default-mode-prepared” going through each day feeling tired and wired. She’s stuck.
It’s possible that her job is that demanding. Is that intense. We need to be clear though, what Lucy is doing by meeting the demand is not peak performance. It’s not producing her best work, or getting the most out of her.
The system here is partly at fault. It’s also important to look at how present-oriented Lucy is: how much of the way she’s been responding and living day to day, is a function of a nervous system that is stuck? Feeling threatened and overwhelmed by the demand, unable to recognize moments where sliding the dimmer switch up or down would be helpful (let alone that it’s a possibility)?
True performance is about range and access to all of the different parts of us, including the ability to move flexibly between states. It’s about knowing how to adjust the lighting based on your ability and the demand in front of you.
If you are stuck and have lost access to your dimmer (either in mobilization or dorsal response), it’s helpful to wonder about the threat to which you are responding, the scarcity you are experiencing, and the story you are continuing to tell yourself.
Is it reflective of the present moment? Of your values? Is the pressure you are feeling about not doing something historic (the childhood experience of, “I alone must do this, or else”) or future-oriented (these dishes will sit here all week and the pot will rust)? What happens if you consider a dimmer setting? Does it feel scary? Like a relief?
What if the work isn’t doing more, but seeing more clearly: what’s needed, what you have to give, and how best to respond given the full range of possible options?
Remember, the goal is not to stay in any single lighting intensity (state), but rather to be able to move responsively and flexibly, with awareness, between lighting options (states) as your context changes. Being dorsal/shut down is amazing if you are stuck in a horrible job, looking for another, and needing a paycheck to pay your rent. Being mobilized is incredible if you are on a deadline and need to stay up all night. Being connected is everything we want on a Saturday morning. We don’t want to lose the ability to disconnect and dissociate, to power-through, and to connect - we want to be aware of when each is needed and know how to adjust our dimmer switch accordingly.
*inspired by a previous newsletter of mine, published on LinkedIn Feb 24, 2023
Siegel, D. J. (1999). The developing mind: How relationships and the brain interact to shape who we are. Guilford Press.
Stulberg, B., & Magness, S. (2017). Peak performance: Elevate your game, avoid burnout, and thrive with the new science of success. Rodale Books.