We’re Conditioned to be Reactive

For most of my life, I thought reactivity was productivity. I didn’t call it that at the time, of course. I called it… Being driven.  Being responsive. Being efficient. Being passionate. Being ambitious.

But underneath all of that was a nervous system that had become deeply accustomed to urgency. A pattern that was quietly undermining my happiness, my success, and my health. And despite knowing better for years, I couldn’t do better.

An idea would come to me, and I’d instantly feel the need to act on it. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now. I felt this intense pressure to complete the vision as quickly as possible, almost as if slowing down meant I would miss my chance entirely.

The Adrenaline Trap

This is how the E+ awards were born years ago. Within a week of having the idea I had award recipients identified, a logo and certificate, with everything sent off to the printers. It wasn’t until after I finished this overly demanding lift that I realized what I’d gotten myself into.

There wasn’t a real deadline with the E+ awards. The urgency was self-created. But it felt real in my body.

My jaw would clench. My chest would tighten. My thinking would narrow. I’d feel this buzzing, caffeinated surge of energy pushing me into motion.

And honestly? Part of me loved it. The adrenaline made me feel focused, productive, alive. The stress response itself became addictive. 

The Nervous System Learns to Keep Us Safe

Underneath the reactivity was something my nervous system had learned a very long time ago. Pressure creates energy. Energy creates movement. Movement creates relief.

So I kept pushing.

Like many people with trauma histories, I became incredibly skilled at overriding myself.

I could push through exhaustion, depletion, discomfort. I’d push through my body’s signals that something wasn’t sustainable.

Until eventually, my body stopped cooperating.

Learning to Work with my Body

Lately, I’ve been dealing with chronic health conditions that have significantly impacted my capacity. And part of my healing journey has required me to reckon with a difficult truth, I cannot sustainably live in a constant state of reactivity.

For a long time, I was stuck in a push-crash cycle.

I would react to pressure, urgency, ideas, opportunities, expectations. I’d mobilize intensely. Get things done. Then crash. I’d rest briefly, feel behind, then react again. It was a vicious cycle.

Knowing Better Isn’t Doing Better

For years, I’d known better. But despite knowing better I stayed stuck in the pattern.

Part of the challenge was, our culture constantly rewards this pattern.

We’re surrounded by messages telling us to move faster, because everyone else is. To act now or we’ll miss our opportunity. That tech advancements like AI are requiring greater speed, and if you’re not ahead, you’re behind.

We are conditioned to be reactive. Not just behaviorally, but neurologically.

Our nervous systems are absorbing the message that urgency equals safety, success, belonging, and survival. That if we slow down, we’ll fall behind. And for me, that conditioning ran deep.

From Recognizing Patterns to Changing Them

I realized in 2021 that I genuinely didn’t know how to perform if my energy was low. I remember reading the book Permission to Feel and learning about the emotion grid that maps feelings based on energy levels and pleasantness.

Something clicked immediately. I had unconsciously linked productivity with high-energy states. 

If my energy dipped, even naturally, I’d panic. Instead of allowing myself to move into a lower-energy but still pleasant state—steady, calm, grounded—I’d slide into frustration, negativity, or self-criticism.

I thought I needed the buzz of adrenaline to function. I thought stress was what made me capable, high performing.

But healing my nervous system has been teaching me something different. I’m learning how to work with my body instead of constantly overriding it. I’m learning how to pause between idea and action. I’m learning how to pace myself.

Now I notice the tightening in my chest and ask, Is this urgency real? Or is this reactivity?

I’m learning how to tolerate the discomfort of not immediately completing the vision.

How to take one step instead of forcing the entire outcome. To be with the uncertainty of not knowing how my efforts will pan out rather than trusting the illusion I had that I was doing it.

A Simple Yet Profound Shift 

Recently, I wanted to host another workshop on compassionate boundaries. My old pattern would’ve scheduled it immediately so I could launch as quickly as possible. Than rushed to market and fill it. All with a frenetic energy of fear and possibility amping me up.

Instead, I created a waitlist. I took one small step. Followed by another, putting it out there. And now I’m letting the idea breathe.

That may sound simple, but for me, it represented a profound shift, I no longer believe every idea needs to become reality immediately. I no longer believe I have to force momentum through stress. I no longer believe my worth is tied to how quickly I produce.

And perhaps most importantly, I no longer panic every time my energy changes. Because human energy is supposed to change. We are not machines designed to operate at peak output all the time.

Reckoning with the Reality of our Capacity

At some point, we all have to reckon with the reality of our capacity. A tree can only grow so much during a drought. You can see it in the rings. The conditions matter.

And right now, many people are trying to grow while chronically depleted, overstimulated, overwhelmed, and disconnected from their bodies. Then wondering why they can’t sustain the pace.

But the answer isn’t more self-criticism. The answer isn’t learning how to override ourselves more efficiently or push harder. The answer may actually be learning another way entirely.

A steadier, more compassionate and more regulated way. Not because we’re incapable. But because we’re human.

Small Meaningful Steps 

Through all of this, I’m delighted to discover that consistency creates more sustainable progress and satisfaction than reactivity ever did.

Just small, meaningful steps taken over and over again. It sounds simple, or obvious because it is. It’s exactly what I was told by my coach for years. But I couldn’t embody this approach because my nervous system rejected it. My nervous system sensed slowing down as a threat and insisted I stay in reactive mode.

It wasn’t until I learned to listen to my body, worked with my nervous system and engaged in daily practices that I could make the shift. 

Now, I don’t just know better, I can do better because I have rewritten these patterns from constantly reacting to being present, engaged and calmly productive. 

This is my invitation to you to reflect on your own patterns of reactivity and ask yourself, “What becomes possible when I stop treating my nervous system like the enemy?”

Resource

If this resonated with you, I created a free handout to go along with it - Rewriting Reactive Patterns

It's a simple, honest reflection tool. A place to slow down, notice where reactivity is still running the show, and take one small step toward something more intentional.

Because that's really all it takes to begin. Not a complete overhaul. Just one moment of awareness. One pause. One small, meaningful step.

Download it here and let it be that step for you today.

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