Are you draining your bathtub?
I heard this helpful metaphor recently. Imagine your life as a bathtub.
The water? Your job, family, relationships, unresolved conversations, bills, hopes, fears, expectations, and the emotional debris of past experiences.
If the faucet is always running — more responsibility, more pressure, more noise — but you never pull the drain, the tub eventually overflows. Perfectionists tend to keep the faucet running in an effort to please, earn, and achieve.
Overflow looks like:
Dysregulation
Anxiety
Irritability
Overwhelm
Numbness
Disconnection
Feeling “flat” in places where you used to feel joy
I kept the water running for a very long time.
For so many years, I thought I needed more discipline, more routine, more hacks, more “push.”
But what I actually needed was less noise, less rushing, less multitasking, and less ignoring my body’s cues for rest and disconnection.
From my twenties to mid-30s, I lived in a constant state of fight-or-flight, overtaxing my adrenals, overriding my intuition, and wearing perfectionism like a badge of honor. I believed hard work was how I earned love, success, relevance, and safety.
I operated out of fear, lack, and shame. It’s impossible to build a life that feels good when fear is driving and shame is riding co-pilot.
In her book “Atlas of the Heart,” Brene Brown shares that shame is the birthplace of perfectionism. She writes, “It may seem counterintuitive, but one of the biggest barriers to working toward mastery is perfectionism. Perfectionism kills curiosity by telling us that we have to know everything or we risk looking ‘less than.”
She goes on to say, “Perfectionism is not self-improvement. Perfectionism is, at its core, about trying to earn approval and acceptance. Most perfectionists were raised being praised for achievement and performance (good grades, good manners, nice appearance, sports prowess, rule following, people pleasing).”
I was a 6-figure girl-boss who had a lot of things, had a lot of fun, filled with worry, constant body-image chatter, starved for love, and afraid to ask anyone for help out of for fear of being seen as “not knowing.”
The root of the problem was NEVER the job, relationship, or the thing I thought was the issue. It was how I was carrying it all.
It is not the load that you carry, but how you carry the load.
I was tight gripped, tired, and wired.
The anxiety, overwhelm, and bouts of depression that developed from it, weren’t personal failures — they were body cues. My body’s check engine light, warning me of a potential malfunction, imbalance, or break in the system.
Slowing down felt terrifying. I thought rest would cost me opportunities, money, momentum, and worthines.
I never thought to ask myself:
What might I gain by slowing down?
The answer was (and still is) myself.
When I slowed down I made space. Put another way, I drained my tub.
And from it grew clarity of what I desire most and a deeper connection to it and me.
Using Danielle Laporte’s, “Desire Map,” as the starting point, I sat down everyday for one month diving deep into discovery of Linda. I answered SO many questions. In the beginning it was hard. Connecting to my desires was not something I really had done before. I came from a household of “is that something that you need or do you want it?” If it was the latter, the answer was most often, “no.” So it wasn’t everyday that I was asked to fill in the blanks of when I felt most alive, most supported, and asked to state what is and isn’t working in my life. This was truth telling at its highest. It was messy, hard, beautiful, and deeply fulfilling.
“It's not the answer that enlightens, but the question.” Eugene Ionesco
From answering each question, I walked away with a series of core values that now serve as my north star. Whether it’s making a career decision, deciding on what to wear on any given day, or dating, these values guide me.
When I was navigating life based on making another proud or happy, my values became theirs, leading to motivated action to prove, void of true meaning for me. This made a lot of the everyday feel like a performance which was exhaustive.
The gift: When I create intentional space, I create opportunity for more of what I desire. More meaning, more play, more creativity, more connection, more joy, more love.
In my work day, this looks micro-breaks for getting outside for walks and time-blocking for tasks I need to get done vs keeping an open calendar where I run the risk of someone else scheduling my time for me.
In friendships this looks like putting fun and connection on my calendar first, making plans at least 3x/month. Coffee, dinner, day trips, etc.
In creativity this looks like trying new recipes, crafting, or learning a new skill.
And in connection this looks like leaning into the vulnerability that comes with being seen for all of me, no mask or performance.
If your tub is feeling particularly full right now, try asking,
What is one area of my life where my body is signaling “too much”?
What do I do out of fear — and what do I avoid because slowing down feels unsafe?
Where do I feel tightness in my body when I think about my routine?
What would feel nourishing, stabilizing, or grounding today?
How can you gift this to yourself?
Spaciousness is not indulgent.
It’s the drain that keeps your life from overflowing.
Make space.