Creating with high-functioning-low-overwhelm

Jan 29, 2025

Well, it happened. I knew it would, in fact I said as much in this post.

The delicious beginning energy that wrapped me in its embrace when I started this new book project is sputtering.

Even as I work daily on allowing myself to come full circle back to what nourishes me most, releasing a softer energy into my creative work, and aligning with my word of the year—nourish—the planning and knowing that comes naturally with mapping out the work is pulling me away and I’m slipping back into pushing and forcing, my old emotional habits.

As I read more about my perfectionism (thank you, thank you

Ellen Hendriksen

for the brilliant How to be enough), I realise that anxiety doesn’t cover it. I’m not anxious. I’m perfectly capable of getting on with things. I can write, create, post on social media, do adulting.

I LOVE what I do and I know I’m privileged to be able to do it. Writing, creating, brings me joy.

But even in the midst of that joy, I feel the background hum of pressure, with just the tinniest hint of overwhelm.

And it seems I’m not alone. Talking with my bestie the other day, I called it high-functioning-low-overwhelm1 - that state where we appear totally ‘together’, able to manage our responsibilities effectively and efficiently, laugh, smile, meet deadlines and colour co-ordinate our outfits, while inside feeling a constant sense of pressure, low-level stress and fatigue.

And it seems to resonate with more and more of us.

So where does it come from?

While I don’t want to jump on the ‘hustle culture’ bandwagon, there’s no doubt we live in a world that thrives on speed. The pressure to produce more, faster, is unrelenting.

Hustle whispers (or sometimes shouts) that success is measured by how much we do and how quickly we do it. My inner perfectionist is seduced by this mindset, making worth dependent on productivity, setting impossibly high standards and pushing to meet them.

‘Why don’t you just get over yourself?’ she says, rolling her eyes.

But this drive is deeply ingrained in the economic systems around us.

Businesses benefit when we believe we’re not enough as we are. Faster production cycles, increased output, and 24/7 engagement fuel their bottom lines. When we’re in a constant state of striving, we’re more likely to buy products, tools, courses or subscriptions that promise to help us keep up.

And the publishing industry is no different. With a demand for quicker releases, where before it might have taken a year to write a book, some authors are putting out four, six or more in the same time.

As a writer, I often impose my own deadlines, believing they’ll motivate me. And they do… to a point.

But deadlines—especially when paired with an inner perfectionist’s fear of falling short—can raise our cortisol levels, increasing stress and limiting our creativity. Cortisol, the stress hormone, puts us into fight-or-flight mode where it’s harder to let our imaginations roam freely about the place or to feel joy and abandon pootling about in our daily craft.

When we free ourselves and slow down, we create space for ideas to percolate, connections to form and our own beautiful brand of weirdness to emerge.

What we need is balance.

To paraphrase Martha Beck in her interview on the ‘We can do hard things’ podcast, in nature our left and right brains ARE in balance, but our culture has shifted us from the right hemisphere (the home of creativity and imagination) waaaay over to the left hemisphere (the centre of control, logic and reasoning) and stayed there, allowing the hustle mindset to gain control.

Add in being part of the ‘sandwich’ generation; raising kids and supporting older parents, with a sprinkling of climate change, perimenopause, covid and governments doing bloody stupid things, and it’s no wonder our right brain sometimes sticks her ‘out of office’ on the door and downs a bucket of gin.

So what do we do?

I don’t have the answer. I’m muddling through this the same as you are.

And while I hate the need for coping mechanisms just for living in the real world, here are some things I’m doing to help manage my HFLO. If this resonates with you, I’d love to read about your own strategies in the comments.

Using nourish as a reminder of my intentions—letting go of the belief that I need to push through fatigue or force creativity to meet some arbitrary goals. This is a daily practice.
Setting realistic creative goals that align with my energy levels—whether that means 20 mins writing or just some time noodling in my creative journal, it’s all good.
Absorbing the generous words and podcasts here on Substack (like
Amie McNee
‘s ‘Time to Write’ series) and chatting with other creatives to fuel my fire without overwhelm.
Allowing time for inner work—I’m loving my ‘Light Seer’ tarot deck by Chris Anne for this. Gentle, exploring, reflective journaling. No judgement or guilt allowed.
Celebrating the hell out of what I do get done—small steps still climb mountains.
Sidestepping perfectionism by allowing in a little vulnerability (akin to Brene Brown’s naming the shame) by publishing posts like these.

Journal cover and gorgeous beaded closure from small producers on Etsy

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson, Education lecture

This quote is my new mantra. So now when I think about the word nourish, I’m picturing planting a garden. It’s a process that requires patience. You water the seeds, give them sunlight, and trust that growth will happen in its own time. Writing is no different. I can’t make the sun come out, I can’t make it rain.

I just have to flow with the seasons and witness what evolves.