From Go-Getter to No-Go: The Shift I Never Saw Coming

I used to be the girl who never stopped. The one who thrived on motion, on squeezing every ounce of life out of every day. Holidays had to be action-packed—planned down to the hour, every moment filled with something new to see or do. If I travelled to a country, I wouldn’t feel satisfied until I had ticked off every landmark, soaked up every ounce of culture, and wrung every last drop out of the experience. I was always the “glass half full” type, chasing discovery, chasing moments, chasing life.

And then came POI.

Almost overnight, something shifted.

The boundless energy that had always defined me suddenly vanished, as if someone had quietly switched off a light I didn’t even realise was there. I could spend entire weekends glued to the sofa, barely moving—a version of myself I would never have recognised before. Rest became my default. Restlessness became a memory. When I travel now, I can happily spend a week by the pool, drifting between naps and novels, without the familiar itch to chase down every hidden corner of a city. The drive to be constantly on the go has been replaced by something unfamiliar: stillness.

At first, that stillness felt like a gift. A permission to slow down. A reminder that there is beauty in doing nothing. But over time, it began to change shape. Sometimes that stillness turns heavy, almost suffocating. Even the smallest list of mundane tasks—changing my bed, writing one short email, sending a single text—feels like climbing a mountain. What should take five minutes can take me five days, or more. And the longer I put it off, the bigger it looms in my mind, until it feels overwhelming. That one unsent text becomes a shadow, a weight, a symbol of everything I can’t quite manage. My anxiety feeds on that cycle, holding me in place, whispering that I’m failing at the simplest parts of life.

I keep asking myself: When did this shift happen?Is it the hormones? Is it age? Is it something deeper?

All I know is that POI has changed me—not just in the physical sense, but in the rhythm of my everyday life. The version of me that once thrived on speed and intensity has been replaced by someone who is still learning how to live at a different pace.

It’s uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar. And yet, in between the frustration and the fatigue, I am trying to find acceptance. To believe that this slower, quieter version of me still has worth, even if she doesn’t tick every box or conquer every list.

Because maybe life isn’t always about doing more, going further, or being everything.Maybe sometimes it’s just about being here—absolutely drained, absolutely present, and still moving forward in my own way.