The problem with being high functioning is that nobody checks on the person who looks like they’re handling everything.
Sometimes that person doesn’t even check on themselves.
I know because I’ve been that person.
For a long time, I believed taking care of myself was selfish. My needs and wants almost always took a backseat to everyone else’s. Not because anyone asked them to, but because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do.
And I don’t think I’m alone in that.
High-functioning people are often the last to realize they’re running on empty because they’ve built their lives around resilience.
They keep showing up.
They keep solving problems.
They keep getting things done.
From the outside, everything looks fine.
The bills get paid.
The kids get where they need to go.
The deadlines get met.
The responsibilities get handled.
Life keeps moving.
So they assume they’re okay.
The list never really ends.
Because being overwhelmed doesn’t always look like a breakdown.
Sometimes it looks like competence.
High-functioning people don’t usually skip work. They skip themselves.
The tragedy is that they’re often the last person to notice.
They don’t miss deadlines.
They reschedule the doctor’s appointment again.
They buy everyone else’s essentials and realize they forgot their own.
They eat whatever is fastest because everyone else’s schedule comes first.
They tell themselves the headache can wait.
The workout can wait.
The rest can wait.
Eventually, so do they.
Their own needs rarely feel urgent because no one else is waiting on them.
So they keep pushing them to tomorrow.
And somehow tomorrow never comes.
For me, this became especially apparent after becoming a mom.
I don’t think motherhood made me lose myself.
In many ways, it actually helped me find myself.
I’ve grown more in the last few years than I ever expected. I’ve become stronger, more patient, more capable, and more aware of what really matters.
But while I was becoming all of those things, it also became incredibly easy to put myself on the back burner.
Not intentionally.
Just little decisions made every day.
Everyone else first. Me later. And eventually, later became never.
Looking back, there were little signs everywhere.
One of my favorite examples happened on our Disney cruise earlier this year.
If you know me, you know I usually overpack.
But before that trip, I was so focused on wrapping things up at work, making sure Aria had everything she needed, making sure the house was ready, and making sure everyone else was taken care of, that I somehow forgot to take care of myself.
A day or two into the trip, I realized I hadn’t packed nearly enough outfits.
I know that sounds ridiculous, but hear me out.
I’m talking two shirts, two shorts, and one dress for a five-day trip.
If you know me, you know that’s practically a cry for help.
At the time I laughed. It was a great excuse to add to my Disney wardrobe.
But looking back, I don’t think I forgot to pack.
I think I forgot myself.
Before my feet even hit the floor in the morning, my family, my job, my responsibilities, and my obligations already had a claim on my energy.
I didn’t.
Everyone else was getting a piece of me.
I wasn’t.
And then I realized something I wish I had understood sooner.
I wasn’t neglecting myself because I didn’t value myself.
I was neglecting myself because everyone else’s needs had deadlines, and mine didn’t.
So I stopped trying to find more hours in the day.
And I started protecting the ones I already had.
Last week, I made it to three workout classes before 8 a.m.
Not because I’m training for anything.
Not because I suddenly found extra time.
Because before my inbox filled up, before my daughter woke up, before anyone needed anything from me, I decided to spend 45 minutes on myself.
The workout ended after 45 minutes.
The reminder that I mattered stayed with me the rest of the day.
Writing this blog has been another example.
For years, I convinced myself there was no time for it.
The truth is, I didn’t believe wanting something just because I wanted it was reason enough.
Nobody asked me to start this blog.
Nobody needed me to start this blog.
There was no expectation.
No reward waiting on the other side.
I started writing again because I wanted to.
And that felt uncomfortable at first.
Somewhere along the way, I had started measuring my worth by what I could do for other people instead of who I was.
I’m still unlearning that.
I also realized that reconnecting with yourself isn’t always something you do alone.
Over Memorial Day weekend, two of my cousins and I finally made our group chat a reality.
We planned a weekend at Eagle Rock.
It was three moms, our husbands, all of our kids, and one house for the weekend.
For a weekend, nobody needed me to fix anything.
Nobody needed me to solve anything.
I just got to be Sonia.
And I didn’t realize how much I missed her until that weekend.
Not because I escaped my life.
Because I reconnected with it.
Coming home that weekend, I realized something else. I don’t just want Aria to grow up seeing me take care of everyone else. I want her to see that I believe I’m worth taking care of too.
If I want my daughter to grow up believing she deserves time, rest, joy, friendship, and creativity, then she has to see me believe that too.
All this time, I thought the problem was that I wasn’t on my to-do list.
The truth was harder than that.
I wasn’t even on the list.
And maybe that’s what being high functioning can do to you.
Not all at once.
Not dramatically.
Just slowly, quietly, through a thousand small decisions where everyone else comes first.
Until one day you look up and realize you’ve spent so much time taking care of everyone else that you can’t remember the last time you took care of yourself.
That’s what I’m trying to change.
Not because I want to become someone different.
Because I want to make sure I stay connected to the person I already am.
Simply Sonia 