You Don’t Need More Time or Less Work. You Need a Release Phase.

For most of my early career, I never once thought I had a focus problem.

If anything, I was known for being able to sit down, lock in, and get things done. I showed up prepared, met deadlines, and navigated systems that were not exactly designed for the way my brain works (all built from years of unknowingly fighting through these structures in traditional education). From the outside, there wasn’t really anything to question.

What I did notice was how TIRED I was.

It wasn’t the kind of tired that comes from one long week or a late night, but a more persistent kind of exhaustion that didn’t quite make sense. I could have a relatively normal day and still feel completely drained by the end of it. For a long time, I assumed that was just part of being an adult, or part of working life, or maybe just something about me that needed to be fixed.

It didn’t occur to me that the way I was getting my work done might be the thing costing me so much energy.

Since I could focus, I never questioned the process. I was constantly overriding distractions, managing internal noise, and pushing myself through moments where things felt harder than they should. It worked, in the sense that things got done, but it was effortful in a way that I didn’t have language for at the time.

And when my brain and body finally did push back…when I reached a point where I couldn’t keep going in the same way… well, that meant it was time to deep clean the house. OBVIOUSLY.

What started as “I’ll just wipe down the counter real quick” somehow turned into reorganizing a drawer, which turned into pulling everything out of a cabinet, which turned into questioning why I even own half the things in my kitchen (three jars of cloves???). At some point I would realize I had been cleaning for an hour and had completely abandoned the thing I originally sat down to do.

At the time, it probably felt like a break, and like I was being responsible. But looking back, I can see that I was just swapping one form of effort for another. It wasn’t a release so much as a redirection of energy, usually driven by a low-level sense of anxiety that I didn’t fully recognize.

I wasn’t giving my brain space; I was giving it a different job.

So there was never really an off-ramp in how I worked. There was no point where I allowed my brain to reset before asking it to keep going. I would just stay in motion, because… isn’t that what we are supposed to do, as adults?

What I understand now (through both research and a lot of trial and error) is that my brain wasn’t missing discipline. It was missing rhythm, autonomy, and purpose… and most importantly, play.

There is a phase in the flow cycle that almost no one talks about in a practical way, and it’s the moment where you intentionally step away. Not because you’re done, and not because you’re avoiding the work, but because your brain actually needs a brief neurophysiological release in order to continue.

For a long time, I treated that moment like a failure. If I couldn’t stay locked in, I assumed I was losing focus or falling behind, so I filled it with something that looked useful.

But filling it is what made everything harder.

Now, when I notice that same friction—the rereading, the restlessness, the subtle resistance—I don’t automatically reach for something productive. More often than not, I step away on purpose in a way that actually lets my brain reset. That might mean moving around for a few minutes, doing something small and creative, or simply changing my environment enough to interrupt the pattern I was stuck in. I play. It isn’t dramatic, and it’s definitely not optimized, but it gives my brain the space it needs to come up for air.

When I come back, the difference in how the work feels and how easily I can move through it is noticeable.

Looking back, the exhaustion makes a lot more sense. I wasn’t bad at focusing, and I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just doing it in a way that required constant effort without giving myself the conditions that make that effort sustainable.

If any of this feels familiar, it might not be a focus issue for you either.

It might just be that you’ve been working hard without the part that makes the rest of the work actually work.

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This is something I spend a lot of time helping teams and individuals figure out—what actually helps people reset vs what just keeps them in motion (towards burnout!).

If you want a few simple ways to experiment with that, check out my decks below!