If you’ve been through a shock diagnosis, an ICU stay, or a life event that shook your world, you already know this: energy is different afterwards. It’s unpredictable. It’s precious. And it has layers — physical strength, emotional load, mental space, and the quiet pull of being around people who “get” your new normal.
There’s a special kind of energy that comes from being seen and understood — and you start looking for it.
People who know the courage it takes just to show up. People who understand the weight you’re carrying without needing the full story. That kind of connection is powerful — and it’s one of the biggest drivers of recovery. Most people only focus on the physical side of energy — how tired the body feels, how much you can (or can’t) do, how long a task takes. But recovery requires a full-spectrum view – so I like to think of it in layers.
Energy is:
🧠 Mental — the concentration it takes to problem-solve, remember things, or manage daily decisions.
💛Emotional — the toll of worry, grief, change, uncertainty, and all the quiet fears that no one sees.
🤝Social — the energy cost (or energy gain) that comes from the people around you. Some lift you up. Some drain you. Some simply don’t understand the pace you’re now living at.
When you recognise that energy is layered, you can finally start supporting it in a way that honours your whole story — not just your physical recovery. After a major health event, it’s easy to assume tiredness is purely physical. But many energy drains come from the invisible load you carry each day.
Things like:
• Overthinking every sensation in your body.
• Pushing past limits because you “used to do more” — and paying for it the next day.
• Constantly explaining your situation to people who don’t get it, and feeling frustration, grief, fear or even moments of anger.
• Trying to act “normal” before you’re ready, or comparing yourself to the old version of you.
• Feeling guilty for resting.
All of this takes energy that you don’t realise you’re using — often more than the physical recovery itself. This is why pacing matters — and why tiny rest breaks aren’t signs of weakness. They’re signs of wisdom. There’s something incredibly grounding about being around people who “just know.” People who’ve walked a similar path. People who don’t rush you, question your limits, or minimise your experience.
Around these people:
• You breathe deeper and your posture is more relaxed.
• You feel safe to be honest, vulnerable, and real.
• Your nervous system settles faster.
Recovery gets lighter when you don’t feel alone in it. The right people lift you. The wrong people drain you — so choosing connection wisely becomes part of protecting your energy.
Small shifts create big change — especially when life already feels full. Some simple, compassionate ways to support your energy might include:
• Noticing when your energy dips — and building micro-rest into your day.
• Reducing emotional load by talking things through.
• Reconnecting with nature or quiet moments.
• Identifying one small habit that supports you each week.
It's not about going faster. It’s about moving more intentionally. And the best part? You don’t have to figure everything out on your own. Good coaching isn’t about fixing you — it’s about helping you discover what’s possible, at your pace, with support that honours your whole story.
Sometimes that looks like:
• Helping you recognise patterns.
• Reducing the emotional load you carry alone.
• Finding a pace that works for you on the other side of change.
• Regaining confidence in your body.
• Rebuilding identity after a major change.
It’s not rushed. It’s not forced. Just steady, grounded guidance that lifts you rather than drains you. It’s a series of small, generous decisions that protect your energy and honour where you are today. There have been many moments in my own journey where the only thing I could do was whisper to myself, “Tracey, just pivot again. You can do this. Pivot now.”
That’s how I got through some painful procedures. It’s how I navigated bad news. That word became my everything. I’m still here, alive — I just need to pivot with this. One step. One courageous adjustment. One breath. That’s why I’m writing my book, a teaching memoir called Pivoting Courageously. It’s more than apt. It was my cornerstone.
Wherever you are right now — physically, emotionally, mentally — your energy matters. Your story matters.
And you’re allowed to rebuild in a way that supports both. One steady, intentional step at a time. With warmth and compassion,
