Bridging the Journey
In the previous chapter, "When I Weep," we explored the invitation to emotional vitality—embracing our full emotional landscape rather than compartmentalizing or suppressing it. This emotional awareness forms the cornerstone of authentic leadership. Now, we transition to another critical dimension of reflective leadership: the essential practice of self-care.
My story from twenty years ago is that I found myself in what I now call my "full-throttle season." I was juggling demanding work responsibilities, family commitments, and the rigorous demands of continuing education. From the outside, it appeared I was managing it all with remarkable efficiency. My calendar was organized, my productivity was high, I was meeting every deadline, and my business was profitable. By every standard, I was a success. Yet beneath this carefully constructed facade of competence, my inner landscape was eroding.
I was focusing far too much on externals, guarding against my inner thoughts, fearful I might not like the answers to deeper questions such as: Why am I running so hard? What's driving me? What's keeping me from stopping? During those seasons of running hard, I had clarity on questions that scared me to death to answer. Yet no doubt I felt them in my gut, churning in my stomach, wanting some expression, answers, or conversation.
It became increasingly clear that I needed new rhythms for my soul and self-care practices to keep me grounded. This chapter explores that journey—a journey many leaders will recognize—and offers a framework for your self-care reset. Acknowledging this need was a relief, a sign that change was possible and that a better, more sustainable way of leading was within reach.
The Paradox of High-Performance Seasons
High-commitment, high-pressure seasons are paradoxical in nature. There's often tremendous good happening—achievement, impact, growth, recognition. There lies the challenge. The external markers of success can mask the internal warning signs of depletion. We rationalize our exhaustion as the necessary cost of meaningful work and significant impact.
The language of "When I Weep" gives us permission to be transparent—open, teachable, and agile for what's good but also receptive to a better way. This transparency extends to acknowledging a fundamental truth: thriving may not always be found while striving.
Throughout reflective leadership, I'll touch on times of fatigue, exhaustion, and even burnout. It's a common language for leaders, and it's also been part of my journey. More often than not, the greatest threat to your leadership, life, and well-being comes when you're thin from running too hard. These threats manifest as distraction, depletion, and discouragement. They're subtle and subjective, but they emerge at a cost.
Practically speaking, consider the quality of your thought process and decisions from Friday at 3:30 p.m. to Monday morning. A good night's rest and the requisite time for critical decisions can save lives, let alone thousands of dollars. The need for a self-care reset is significant. In my story, poor, tired, reactive decisions have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Missing The Warning Signs
Looking back, the warning signs were evident, though I was adept at ignoring them. My sleep quality had deteriorated. I was subsisting on caffeine and convenience foods. Exercise had become a luxury I couldn't afford. Most concerning, my reflective practices—the quiet moments of journaling, meditation, and prayer that had previously anchored my days—had been squeezed out by urgent demands. I wore my exhaustion as a badge of honor, proving my resiliency. I had succumbed to the perception that prioritizing my well-being was somehow a bit selfish or indulgent. This mindset is deeply embedded and encouraged within our family, workplace, and church-community cultures. We glorify the leader who arrives first and leaves last, answers emails at midnight, and sacrifices vacation time for the sake of the mission. We mistake presence for productivity and busyness for effectiveness. As my pastor, Brady Boyd, wrote in his book a few years ago, we're addicted to busy. Recognizing these warning signs was empowering, a sign that I was in control and could take proactive steps to change.
The Questions That Churned Within
During this full-throttle season, specific questions surfaced in quiet moments—usually in the liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, when my defenses were down. Mike Foster identified these as the Seven Primal Questions, a simple framework that gives scope to reflection:
Am I safe?
Am I secure?
Am I loved?
Am I wanted?
Am I successful?
Am I good enough?
Do I have a purpose?
These questions weren't intellectual exercises but visceral, emotional inquiries bubbling up from my core. They demanded answers and honest engagement with my deepest values, fears, and longings.
The question of "Am I successful?" was particularly charged for me. I had constructed an identity around achievement and recognition. My worth had become entangled with external markers of success. This created a treadmill effect—each accomplishment brought momentary satisfaction, quickly replaced by the pressure to achieve, do, and be more.
Meanwhile, "Am I good enough?" lurked beneath the surface, driving my relentless pace. If I worked harder, delivered more, and sacrificed further, I could finally silence the inner critic questioning my worth.
The Turning Point
My turning point didn't come in a dramatic breakdown (though many leaders experience this). Instead, it emerged through a series of small wake-up calls. A trusted mentor pointed out that my creative thinking had become reactive rather than generative. My spouse gently noted that while physically present, I seemed emotionally distant. A medical checkup revealed elevated stress markers. These signals converged, creating a moment of clarity. I realized that my current approach wasn't sustainable, and more importantly, it wasn't leading to the impact I truly desired. This was a pivotal moment in my journey, and it might help you identify similar moments in your own life.
These signals converged, creating a moment of clarity. I realized that my current approach wasn't sustainable, and more importantly, it wasn't leading to the impact I truly desired. I was efficient but not effective, busy but not fulfilled, present but not engaged.
This realization led to what I now call a "self-care reset"—not a temporary retreat, but a fundamental recalibration of my relationship with work, rest, and well-being.
The Self-Care Reset Framework
Similar to the invitation to emotional vitality, the self-care reset is invitational. It's a "get-to," not necessarily a "have-to." It's more prescriptive than descriptive. It's preventive for bad decisions and burnout.
The framework involves five interconnected dimensions:
1. Physical Restoration
This begins with the basics—adequate sleep, proper nutrition, and regular movement. These aren't luxuries but the foundation of cognitive function, emotional regulation, and decision-making capacity.
My reset involved committing to seven hours of sleep nightly, replacing convenience foods with nutrient-dense alternatives, and scheduling non-negotiable time for physical activity such as walking as restorative.
2. Emotional Awareness
Building on the insights from "When I Weep," this dimension involves creating space to acknowledge, process, and express emotions rather than suppressing or compartmentalizing them.
For me, this meant resuming my journaling practice, engaging with a therapist, and creating boundaries around emotional labor. I recognized that constantly absorbing others' emotional needs without replenishment depleted my empathy and connection capacity.
3. Mental Clarity
Information overload, constant connectivity, and decision fatigue can cloud our thinking and impair judgment. Mental clarity requires intentional practices that filter inputs and create space for deep thinking.
My reset included technology boundaries (no devices during meals or the first/last hour of the day), dedicated time for deep work without interruptions, and regular digital sabbaticals. These practices created the cognitive space needed for creative problem-solving and strategic thinking.
4. Relational Investment
Meaningful connections are not optional; they're essential for leadership resilience. Yet high-pressure seasons often lead us to neglect the relationships that could sustain us.
My reset involved identifying my core relationships—those that energized rather than depleted me—and prioritizing regular, quality engagement. This meant saying no to networking events that added little value and yes to deeper conversations with trusted colleagues and friends.
5. Spiritual Grounding
Spiritual practices provide context, meaning, and perspective. They connect daily challenges to larger purposes and transcendent values.
My reset reestablished consistent meditation, prayer, and contemplative reading. These practices weren't additions to an already packed schedule but foundational elements that informed how I approached everything else.
The Return on Investment
The self-care reset isn't about indulgence—it's about effectiveness. The return on investment becomes evident in multiple dimensions:
Decision quality improves significantly when we're rested, nourished, and centered.
Creative capacity expands when we create space for reflection and restoration.
Relational intelligence deepens when we're emotionally regulated and fully present.
Resilience strengthens as we develop sustainable rhythms rather than sprinting until exhaustion.
Perhaps most significantly, a self-care reset reconnects us with our core values and purposes. It creates the conditions for asking not just "What am I doing?" but "Why am I doing it?" and "Who am I becoming in the process?"
The Ongoing Practice
A self-care reset isn't a one-time event but an ongoing practice of attunement and adjustment. It requires regular reflection on Foster's primal questions, using them as gauges for well-being and alignment.
When I feel anxiety rising (Am I safe?), it signals the need for practices that create psychological safety and boundary reinforcement.
When financial concerns dominate my thinking (Am I secure?), it prompts a review of my relationship with resources and sufficiency.
When I feel disconnected or isolated (Am I loved? Am I wanted?), investing in key relationships and community engagement is time.
When achievement becomes all-consuming ("Am I successful?" "Am I good enough?"), I need to reconnect with my intrinsic worth beyond performance.
When meaninglessness creeps in (Do I have a purpose?), it's an invitation to realign daily activities with core values and vision.
These questions give language that guides SoulWork further and informs the self-care practices that need the most attention during particular seasons. They create a feedback loop that prevents the accumulation of stress and depletion, leading to burnout.
A New Understanding of Leadership Power
Through this reset process, I've understood that true leadership power stems not from relentless activity but from grounded presence. The rested, centered, and aligned leader brings a qualitatively different energy to challenges than the depleted, reactive, and fragmented leader.
This understanding challenges the prevailing notion that self-care and high performance are opposing values. They're complementary. The capacity to lead effectively over the long term—to make wise decisions, inspire others, navigate complexity, and facilitate transformation—depends on sustainable self-care practices.
The paradox is that slowing down often allows us to advance more effectively. Pausing creates the conditions for clarity, and rest enables more impactful action. Self-care isn't separate from leadership effectiveness—it's integral to it.
The Bridge to Self-Leadership
I remember my full-throttle season as a life-defining moment. The awakening that occurred during that time fundamentally shifted how I understood the relationship between caring for myself and leading others. Yet the truth is, I've had many similar seasons since then. Each has presented its version of the same fundamental challenge: remaining present, grounded, and practical amidst increasing demands and responsibilities.
Through these recurring cycles, I've learned that self-care isn't a destination but a path. It's not about achieving perfect balance—an elusive concept at best—but about developing the awareness and agility to recognize when I'm moving toward depletion and the courage to adjust course before reaching critical levels.
I hope I've progressed toward more intentional SoulWork and self-care practices over the years. This progress serves dual purposes: my welfare, certainly, but equally important, cultivating greater inner capacity—grace—to serve others well. I've come to see that the quality of my presence with others is directly proportional to the quality of my presence with myself. The compassion I extend to my limitations becomes the compassion I can authentically offer to others in their struggles.
We now approach this threshold as we move toward Chapter 5, "Grit & Grace." The self-care practices we've explored aren't merely about personal restoration—though that alone would justify their value. They're the foundation upon which we build the capacity for genuine self-leadership. They create the inner resources that allow us to navigate the inevitable tensions of leadership: to hold boundaries with kindness, pursue excellence without perfectionism, honor both achievement and renewal and blend determination with flexibility.
The journey from self-care to self-leadership requires grit—the resilience to establish and maintain healthy practices even when challenges arise—and grace—the compassion to honor our humanity and limitations. In the next chapter, we'll explore how these twin qualities enable us to lead ourselves with wisdom and authenticity, creating the foundation from which we can effectively lead others.
Reflection Questions
Reflect on your current "full-throttle season." Which of Mike Foster's Seven Primal Questions resonates most deeply with you right now, and what might that reveal about the self-care practice that needs your immediate attention?
Consider the quality of your decisions and interactions at your most depleted (perhaps Friday afternoon) versus your most restored (perhaps after a restful weekend). What patterns do you notice, and what does this suggest about the relationship between your self-care and leadership effectiveness?
What is one small, sustainable self-care practice you could implement tomorrow to address your most pressing depletion area? How might you design this practice to be resilient against the inevitable pressures and demands that will compete for this time?