You carry the heavy, exhausting tension of relational trauma when those meant to protect you instead left you feeling unseen or unsafe, which makes asking for support feel both urgent and deeply risky in your adult life. Your nervous system’s health isn’t about constant calm, but about building the capacity to move through stress and overwhelm without shutting down — which means giving yourself active, deliberate permission to rest and restore, not just pushing through exhaustion. Healing for you means holding both your strength and your struggles without shame, learning to tend to your wounds with compassionate self-care when external support falls short or feels unsafe, and recognizing that recovery time is essential, not wasted. You carry the weight of relational trauma when the people who were supposed to protect you instead left you feeling unseen, unsafe, or unworthy, which makes asking for support now feel both urgent and deeply risky. Your nervous system’s health depends on active, deliberate rest—not just stopping work but creating space where your body and mind can process and integrate emotional wounds, especially when hypervigilance keeps you wired and on edge.
Nervous system health refers to how well your body’s network that regulates your thoughts, emotions, and physical responses is functioning and recovering. It is not about being calm or stress-free all the time, nor is it a sign of weakness to need rest. For you, especially with a history of relational trauma, nervous system health means having the capacity to move through stress and overwhelm without getting stuck or shutting down. It matters because protecting your nervous system means giving yourself permission to rest actively and rebuild resilience from the inside out—not pushing through exhaustion or ignoring your body’s signals. Choosing this kind of care is not laziness; it is how you cultivate sustainable strength instead of mere survival.
You carry the heavy, exhausting tension of relational trauma when those meant to protect you instead left you feeling unseen or unsafe, which makes asking for support feel both urgent and deeply risky in your adult life.
Your nervous system’s health isn’t about constant calm, but about building the capacity to move through stress and overwhelm without shutting down — which means giving yourself active, deliberate permission to rest and restore, not just pushing through exhaustion.
Healing for you means holding both your strength and your struggles without shame, learning to tend to your wounds with compassionate self-care when external support falls short or feels unsafe, and recognizing that recovery time is essential, not wasted.
Nervous system health refers to how well your body’s network that manages your thoughts, emotions, and physical reactions is functioning and recovering. It is not simply about being calm or stress-free all the time—it’s about having the capacity to move through stress, overwhelm, and pain without getting stuck or shutting down. For you, especially with a history of relational trauma, nervous system health means learning to give yourself permission to rest and restore actively, not just push through exhaustion. This isn’t laziness or weakness; it’s a vital, ongoing process that rebuilds your resilience from the inside out. When you protect your nervous system’s health, you’re choosing sustainable strength over temporary survival.
You carry the weight of relational trauma when the people who were supposed to protect you instead left you feeling unseen, unsafe, or unworthy, which makes asking for support now feel both urgent and deeply risky.
Your nervous system’s health depends on active, deliberate rest—not just stopping work but creating space where your body and mind can process and integrate emotional wounds, especially when hypervigilance keeps you wired and on edge.
Healing means giving yourself permission to slow down and tend to your wounds without guilt, cultivating your own inner ‘good enough’ caregiver to hold you with compassion when external support falls short or feels unsafe.
So many of us from relational trauma backgrounds are often in the challenging position of feeling all the strain and strife of normal human life while also trying to work through and heal the impacts of our childhood trauma histories. That’s A LOT of opportunity to feel overwhelmed, exhausted, incapable, and weary, in need of a pep talk.
SUMMARY
Even the most capable, formidable creatures need time to rest and tend to their wounds. For driven women who’ve learned to equate stopping with weakness, this post is a direct reminder: recovery time is not wasted time. Tending to yourself after something hard — whether a relational rupture, a professional setback, or a therapy session that left you raw — is not indulgence. It’s what makes sustained strength possible.
And many of us still cope with all of that without having functional, supportive parents we can turn to for support when we need it most when we’re feeling all those big, hard feelings.
That’s the crummy thing about coming from a relational trauma history. The impulse to turn to your caregivers for support never really leaves (that’s human nature). But the double bind is that the people you want to turn to for support are likely the ones who hurt you the most and/or have extremely limited capacities.
Relational trauma refers to psychological injury that occurs within the context of important relationships, particularly those with primary caregivers during childhood. Unlike single-incident trauma, relational trauma involves repeated experiences of emotional neglect, inconsistency, manipulation, or abuse within bonds where safety and trust should have been foundational.
And so today’s blog post is another in the pep talk series that I’ve curated over the years on my site – a series meant to provide you with the written words of support that ideally a good enough mother, a good enough father, and even an idealized grandparent could give you.
Rest as Recovery
In the context of nervous system health, rest is not merely the absence of activity — it is an active process by which the body and mind process, integrate, and restore. For trauma survivors, especially those with hyperactive nervous systems, rest is often harder than work, and therefore more important to protect deliberately.
This pep talk contains words of encouragement, validation, comfort, mirroring, and cheerleading so that you can cultivate your own inner good enough parents, imaginal resources you can call upon in the absence of flesh and blood support when life gets tough.
As strong as you are, even lions need to lick their wounds, and the words in this pep talk is meant as salve for when you hurt.
I hope that today’s essay, written from the perspective of a good enough grandfather, brings you some support and peace and comfort when and if you need it.
If it does, please let me know in the comments. I truly love hearing from you.
Even lions need to lick their wounds.
Hey kiddo.
You’re going through a really tough time right now, aren’t you?
You’re working so hard nearly every minute of the day, nearly every day of the week.
I see you trying so hard to do right by so many people: your colleagues, your clients, your partner, your children, your neighbors, your friends.
You’re giving all you have, aren’t you?
And you’re tired.
I can hear it in your voice when you call up.
I can see it in your eyes in those last photos you posted to the iPhotos album.
You’re weary.
No, no, hear me out.
It’s not a criticism.
You don’t have to pretend you’re not weary and tired. Not with me you don’t!
I know how that feels.
I remember being in my 30’s and 40’s and feeling like I was single handedly in charge of trying to get a jumbo jet off the ground to cruising altitude.
Life felt so hard.
Building the career, building financial security, giving to so many people and so many pursuits with so little energy or time left for me.
Signs You May Be Carrying Relational Trauma
Take this 5-minute, 25-question quiz to find out — and learn what to do next if you do.
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All my downtime was spent thinking about how to financially protect my young family, how to make us safer, more secure, more stable than the world I was born into.
I didn’t feel like there was a choice but to keep going because the buck stopped with me.
And I know it does with you, too.
I see how hard you’re working and you GET to be tired and weary of it.
You’re in one of the hardest times of your life right now and things don’t feel stable and secure yet.
You don’t feel stable and secure yet.
You feel shaky and that’s okay.
Your plane isn’t at cruising altitude yet.
It will be though.
Kiddo, please hear me.
You’re phenomenal.
You’re so strong, so capable.
That’s not a compliment.
That’s a fact.
I’ve watched you since you were little and I’ve marveled at your strength and capacities.
You were such a little trooper.
Working hard and creating spaces for yourself even when there were none.
And you’re still doing it.
I admire you so much, not because I’m your grandparent, but because you’re an incredible human.
And yes, you’re strong and so very, very capable.
Just like a lion.
But kiddo, even lions need to lick their wounds sometimes.
Even the strongest need a break.
They need a place they can retreat to and allow themselves to feel sad, scared, and overwhelmed
That doesn’t make you weak.
That makes you human.
And this also isn’t how you feel most of the time – I know you.
I know how much you can shoulder.
But right now it feels like too much and that’s okay.
It’s okay to let it feel like too much and it’s okay to be honest with yourself and with me about it.
FREE QUIZ
The invisible patterns you can’t outwork…
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. This quiz reveals the childhood patterns keeping you running — and why enough is never enough.
I want to be a safe space for you to say how you actually feel.
I love you so much.
I’ve always felt connected to you ever since you were little.
Honestly, I felt more connected to you than I did some of my own children.
I see so much of myself in you and I am so, so proud of you.
You’re changing your life and your family’s trajectory just like I tried to do with mine.
Anyone can build a nice house on a solid foundation with plenty of resources to do so.
It’s another thing entirely when you have no foundation under you and have to carve that out first and scrimp and scrape and count only on yourself to find the means to build a house.
That’s you, kiddo.
You’re doing this generation changing work of trying to heal, of trying to build, of not just surviving life but actually trying to live out your potential.
Life will always feel harder when you come from as little as you and I did.
Life will always feel harder when you’re not just content with hiding and getting by but instead trying to live in a bigger way that not only helps yourself but helps others.
You are a lion, kiddo.
And even lions need to lick their wounds.
So, please, don’t dismiss how you feel.
Don’t deny it.
Let yourself feel sad.
Let yourself feel scared.
And let yourself feel overwhelmed.
It makes so much sense that you would feel that way!
Let yourself feel all your feelings, let yourself have a little pity party.
It won’t be forever.
You won’t always feel this way.
But you DO need to let yourself feel how hard things feel right now.
And I have a hunch that if you do actually let yourself feel sorry for yourself, even for a little bit, you’ll actually feel better.
Feel your feelings, get some good sleep, and then get up the next day and keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Because that’s what lions do.
We persist, we persevere.
All of this work you’re doing, to heal yourself, to build a responsible, good adult life for yourself, it is hard.
But it’s also what’s making you stronger and more capable.
Look back on who you were five years ago.
Could you even imagine being capable of what you’re currently doing back then?
No, right?
You became the person you are today – a person capable of handling that much more – because you moved through that hardship.
These hard times are uncomfortable, no doubt.
But they also shape you into a stronger, more capable, more resilient person.
Can you look back and remember those other times in your life when you felt like everything was falling down around you?
Remember?
And then can you see, even a little bit, now in hindsight, how things also came together for you?
With that rearview perspective, can you see how the changing and shaking up of things, that experience of feeling like everything was falling apart was actually exactly what you needed to bring you to where you are today?
To who you are with today?
To make you into the extraordinary person you are today?
I can see that so clearly for you and I trust that it will be true again in these hard, shaky, scary, overwhelming times.
I have trust and faith that things will come together for you and that it will all work out for the best, not because of some magical wishing, but because of who you are.
You show up and solve problems, one at a time. And you make good decisions, one at a time.
You do the best you can, and then you get up the next day and do it again.
You will get through these hard times because of who you are. And because of how you are as you move through life.
And in time, maybe five years from now, or five months from now, I have faith you’ll be able to look back at this moment and see how it was actually a good thing.
But remember: as you move through these hard times, even lions need to lick their wounds.
You can’t be strong all the time. It’s just not possible. No one is.
So in those moments when you need to lick your wounds, when you feel like you can’t go on, when you need someplace and someone safe to turn to, I hope you’ll let me be that person for you.
I love you, kiddo.
You’ve got this.
And I’ve got you.
Warmly,
Annie
Absolutely not. Even the strongest people need witness and support during hard times. Needing encouragement isn’t weakness—it’s human. The tragedy of trauma is being conditioned to see normal human needs as character flaws.
Why does life feel harder for trauma survivors than others?
You’re not just managing normal adult responsibilities—you’re simultaneously building the foundation others inherited, healing wounds while working, and creating stability without a safety net. It’s like building a house while creating the ground beneath it.
Can imaginary supportive figures really help when real support is absent?
Yes. Internal resources like imagined good-enough parents can provide genuine comfort and co-regulation. Your nervous system responds to imagined safety and support, especially when coupled with self-compassion practices.
How do I know if I’m actually making progress when everything feels overwhelming?
Look back five years—could that version of you handle what you’re managing now? Current overwhelm often means you’re at capacity because you’re capable of so much more than before. The struggle itself is evidence of growth, not failure.
When you enter therapy carrying the weight of adult responsibilities while simultaneously grieving the parents you needed but never had, you’re addressing one of relational trauma’s cruelest wounds—the absence of a safe harbor when storms hit, discovering that what your grandmother would say to you if she could becomes something your therapist helps you internalize as an inner resource.
Your trauma-informed therapist becomes a temporary stand-in for the good-enough parent, offering what was missing: someone who sees your exhaustion without calling you weak, who validates your overwhelm without dismissing your strength, who holds unwavering faith in your capacity while honoring your very real limitations—teaching your nervous system that support doesn’t come with conditions or criticism.
The therapeutic process involves both grieving the support you’ll never receive from actual parents and developing internal resources to self-parent during crises. Your therapist might guide you through imaginal work, helping you cultivate an inner good-enough grandfather or grandmother whose voice gradually becomes louder than the critical or absent parental voices from childhood.
Through consistent therapeutic attunement—your therapist remembering your struggles, celebrating your wins, normalizing your exhaustion—you internalize a new template for support, learning that needing help doesn’t mean you’re failing and that even lions need safe spaces to rest.
Most powerfully, therapy provides the corrective experience of being held through overwhelm without being fixed, rushed, or shamed—your therapist maintaining faith in your resilience while fully acknowledging how hard everything feels, modeling the Both/AND of strength and vulnerability.
Over time, their consistent presence becomes an internalized resource you can access during 2am panic spirals or workplace crises, discovering that the parental support you needed can be cultivated internally even when it’s forever absent externally, transforming abandonment into self-companioning, isolation into internal dialogue with figures who finally, truly see you.
Free Quiz
What’s Running Your Life?
“aw-pull-quote”
The invisible patterns you can’t outwork…
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. This quiz reveals the childhood patterns keeping you running — and why enough is never enough.
;">As strong as you are, even lions need to lick their wounds, and the words in this pep talk is meant as salve for when you hurt.
;">I hope that today’s essay, written from the perspective of a good enough grandfather, brings you some support and peace and comfort when and if you need it.
;">If it does, please let me know in the comments. I truly love hearing from you.
Why do I feel so much guilt when I try to rest or take a break, even when I’m exhausted?
It’s common for driven, ambitious women to tie their self-worth to constant productivity, often rooted in past experiences like childhood emotional neglect. This can make resting feel like a failure or a threat to your identity. Remember, true strength includes recognizing your limits and allowing yourself the necessary time to recover and recharge.
I’m always pushing myself, but I feel like I’m burning out. Is it okay to slow down without losing my edge?
Absolutely. The idea that slowing down means losing your drive is a common misconception, especially for those who’ve achieved a lot. In reality, consistent high performance requires periods of rest and recovery to prevent burnout and foster sustainable success. Giving yourself permission to pause can actually enhance your focus and creativity in the long run.
How can I allow myself to be vulnerable and ask for help when I’m used to being the strong one?
Embracing vulnerability is a profound act of strength, not weakness. It means acknowledging your human needs and trusting others, which can be challenging if you’ve often had to be self-reliant. Start by practicing small acts of vulnerability with trusted individuals, understanding that true connection often deepens when we share our authentic selves.
What does it mean if I constantly feel like I need to ‘earn’ my peace or happiness?
This feeling often stems from relational patterns or early experiences where love and acceptance felt conditional. You might unconsciously believe that you must achieve or perform to be worthy of good things. However, your inherent worth is not dependent on your accomplishments; you are deserving of peace and happiness simply because you exist.
I feel like I’m always taking care of everyone else. How do I prioritize my own healing without feeling selfish?
Prioritizing your own healing is not selfish; it’s essential for your well-being and your capacity to genuinely support others. Think of it as replenishing your own well, so you have more to give without depleting yourself. Setting boundaries and dedicating time to your own needs allows you to show up more fully and authentically in all your relationships.
Helping ambitious women finally feel as good as their résumé looks.
As a licensed psychotherapist, trauma-informed executive coach, and relational trauma specialist with over 15,000 clinical hours, she guides ambitious women — including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs — in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.
The impulse to turn to caregivers for comfort is hardwired human nature—it doesn't disappear just because those caregivers were harmful. This creates a painful double bind where you crave support from the very people with the most limited capacity to provide it.
Absolutely not. Even the strongest people need witness and support during hard times. Needing encouragement isn't weakness—it's human. The tragedy of trauma is being conditioned to see normal human needs as character flaws.
You're not just managing normal adult responsibilities—you're simultaneously building the foundation others inherited, healing wounds while working, and creating stability without a safety net. It's like building a house while creating the ground beneath it.
Yes. Internal resources like imagined good-enough parents can provide genuine comfort and co-regulation. Your nervous system responds to imagined safety and support, especially when coupled with self-compassion practices.
Look back five years—could that version of you handle what you're managing now? Current overwhelm often means you're at capacity because you're capable of so much more than before. The struggle itself is evidence of growth, not failure.
What's Running Your Life?
The invisible patterns you can’t outwork…
Your LinkedIn profile tells one story. Your 3 AM thoughts tell another. If vacation makes you anxious, if praise feels hollow, if you’re planning your next move before finishing the current one—you’re not alone. And you’re *not* broken.
This quiz reveals the invisible patterns from childhood that keep you running. Why enough is never enough. Why success doesn’t equal satisfaction. Why rest feels like risk.
Five minutes to understand what’s really underneath that exhausting, constant drive.
