Well, this one’s late. Not because I didn’t want to write it—but because I didn’t have it in me. Not this week.

This past week+ has been one of those “life just shows up and punches you in the gut” times. Emotionally draining. Physically exhausting. Just… heavy. And yet, the world didn’t pause. My kids still needed rides. Work still needed doing. Groceries didn’t magically show up. Kaya still needed walks (and pulled like a sled dog trying out for the Iditarod).

The responsibilities didn’t care that I had nothing left in the tank.

So, what do you do when you’re running on empty?

You don’t floor it. You don’t pretend you’re fine.

You also don’t ghost your life and move to the mountains (tempting, though).

Here’s what I’ve learned—am learning—in real time:

• Rest where you can. A few deep breaths in the car. A five-minute walk. Sitting in silence with your eyes closed even if your kids are climbing on top of you. Take it. Micro-rests are still rests.

• Keep your commitments, loosely. I didn’t skip this post, but I did write it late. That’s okay. You can show up and still not be “on.” Consistency doesn’t always look like peak performance.

• Say no to anything new. When you’re maxed out, don’t add. This isn’t the time to take up jiu-jitsu or join a startup or commit to a birthday party for 30 kindergartners. Guard your bandwidth.

• Find people who carry you a bit. I’ve leaned on friends, teammates, my kids, even you (yes, writing this does help). Let people help you. You’re not a burden—you’re human.

• Let it suck, but don’t stop. You’re allowed to have a bad day, week, month. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re alive. Feel it. Process it. Move through it. But don’t disappear.

• Fill yourself back up. Read something you love. Watch a dumb show. Pet a dog. Lift something heavy. Build something. These are not luxuries—they’re survival tools.

Take care of you. Then take the next step.

And if you’re running on empty, don’t confuse that with being done. You’re not done. You’re just depleted. That’s different.

So pause. Breathe. Recharge how you can. But don’t check out completely. You still have value. You still matter. And even tired, even drained, you can still move forward—one honest, imperfect step at a time.

That’s how we build better lives and better work.

Not from constant strength—but from relentless return.