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When Managing Your Energy Starts Managing Your Life

3 days ago
6 min read
Midlife woman, leaning on a counter, one hand propping up her chin, other hand resting on her laptop, looking thoughtful

What if some of the things you've learnt to do to manage chronic fatigue make complete sense — but are still worth becoming curious about?


Have you ever got to the end of the day feeling completely exhausted and thought:

“But I haven't actually done anything today.”


Perhaps you haven't been to work.

You haven't been out.

You haven't done the housework, walked very far or done any of the things we normally think of as using energy.

And yet you're shattered.


There can, of course, be many reasons for that when you're living with chronic fatigue.

But there's one kind of energy use I think we can easily overlook.

The energy it takes to manage having very little energy.


When managing your energy takes energy

When your energy has become unpredictable, an enormous amount can be happening without you physically doing very much at all.


Planning.

Checking.

Calculating.

Anticipating.

Preparing.


Can I manage this?

Should I rest first?

If I do this today, will I still be able to do what I need to do tomorrow?

Have I already done too much?

Should I stop now?


It can be quietly running in the background all day.


And I want to be very clear here: I'm not suggesting that managing your energy is wrong.

The routines you've developed may support you enormously. Planning may enable you to do things that matter to you. Rest, boundaries and making thoughtful decisions about your energy may all have an important place in your life.


This isn't about throwing those things away, ignoring your body or pushing yourself through symptoms.


It's simply about becoming curious about something we don't always count:

How much energy does managing my energy take?


Because perhaps when we ask “What have I done today?”, we're only counting the things somebody else could see.

We're not counting all the monitoring, decision-making and trying to get it right.


And that brings us to another question.

Why did managing our energy become such a big job in the first place?


🎥 Want to explore this idea a little further?

In this short video, I look at some of the less obvious energy that can go into planning, checking, calculating and anticipating when you’re living with chronic fatigue.


Watch: When Managing Your Energy Starts Taking Energy →


Your rules may make complete sense

If you've lived with chronic fatigue for some time, I wonder how many rules have gradually found their way into your life.


I have to...

I mustn't...

I can't...

I daren't...


Rules about when you rest, how much you do, what you eat, where you go, how long you stay, what you can do on the same day.



Dirt road with two wheel tracks, winding it's way through a forest with early morning rays of light shining on the track

Some may be very helpful.


Others may have been there for so long that you no longer remember consciously deciding on them.


They've simply become how life is.


And it's easy to judge ourselves for that.

  • Why am I so controlling?

  • Why can't I be more flexible?

  • Why do I have to think about everything so much?


But perhaps there's a more compassionate question:

What if my rules make sense?


When your body has become unpredictable, of course you look for ways to make things feel more predictable.


If you've done something before and felt dreadful afterwards, you remember.


If you've thought you could manage something and discovered that you couldn't, you become more cautious next time.


You notice something that seems to help.

You remember it.

You repeat it.


And gradually it can become a rule.

Not because you're doing fatigue badly.

But because you're trying not to get caught out again.


After enough difficult experiences, something else can happen too.

The rule can begin to feel safer than trusting your own judgement.

Instead of asking yourself what feels right today, following the rule gives you an answer.


So perhaps rather than asking:

“How do I get rid of this rule?”


we could begin with:

“What has this rule been trying to do for me?”


Understanding something doesn't mean we have to change it.

But it can change the relationship we have with it.


And that's where another possibility begins to appear.


🎥 What if your rules aren’t the problem?

In the second video in this series, we explore why rules can develop when your energy becomes unpredictable — and why understanding what they’ve been trying to do for you can be a much gentler place to begin.


Watch: Why Your Rules Around Fatigue Make Sense → (released on 24 Sept 2026)


Is the structure supporting your life?

Structure can be incredibly helpful.

But every now and then, I think there's a question worth asking:

Is this structure supporting my life — or has my life gradually become organised around maintaining the structure?




A hand softly brushing through summer grasses dotting with pale yellow flowers and stems of grass

Supportive structure leaves some room for you.

Room to notice how you are today.

Room to consider the particular situation in front of you.

Room for your needs.

And perhaps even your wants.


You're using the structure to help you make a decision.

The structure isn't making the decision for you.


Because all this managing can have another cost.

Not simply energy.

Perhaps spontaneity has gradually disappeared.

Or pleasure.

Confidence.

Connection.

Independence.

Ease.


Perhaps there are things you've stopped doing, places you've stopped going or parts of yourself that have become quieter along the way.


There can be grief in acknowledging that.

And anger.


And I don't think we need to rush past either of those things in our determination to find an answer.


Sometimes we simply need enough space to acknowledge:

“Yes. This has cost me something.”


What if neither part of you is wrong?

Perhaps there's a part of you that wants more.

I want to see my friends.

I want to work.

I want to go away.

I want some spontaneity.

I want to feel more like me.


And then another part says:

But what if you overdo it?

What if you regret it?

What if you can't cope?


It's tempting to decide that one of those voices is the problem.

But what if neither is?


Perhaps the part wanting more is telling you something important about the life that matters to you.

And perhaps the cautious part is telling you something important about what you've experienced and why safety matters.


What if moving forward didn't require you to fight either of them?

Perhaps it begins by creating enough space to hear both.


I call what can emerge from that responsive choice.


Responsive choice isn't pushing through.

It isn't throwing away your boundaries.

And it certainly isn't a sneaky way of persuading yourself to do more.


Sometimes the responsive choice will still be:

“No. Not today.”

The difference is that you've participated in arriving there.


You've had space to ask:

How am I today?

What do I need?

What do I want?

What feels right for me now?


The answer might look exactly the same from the outside.

But something can feel different on the inside.

Because you have a voice in what happens next.


And perhaps that's one of the ways trust begins to return.


🎥 And what might happen when we make a little more room for choice?

In the final video, I explore the difference between supportive structure and rigid rules — and why having a voice in your choices doesn’t necessarily mean choosing to do more.


Watch: Is Your Routine Supporting Your Life — or Is Your Life Supporting the Routine?(released on 1 Oct 2026)

Creating more space for exploration

This idea — creating space to explore before immediately trying to fix — has become increasingly important in my work.


Because so often when we notice something about ourselves, our next question is:

“What do I need to do about it?”


Sometimes there's another question worth asking first:

“Can I understand this a little more?”



A bright kitchen with light wood table and 3 cane chairs arranged around it. There are three pot plants on the table

That's one of the reasons I created Kitchen Table Conversations.


From time to time, I gather a small group of women around my virtual kitchen table for gentle conversations about energy, exhaustion... and everything we carry alongside them.


They're not webinars.

There aren't slides or lots of information to absorb.

And nobody needs to arrive with answers.


You can speak. Listen. Reflect. Be curious.

Because sometimes, when we create enough space to hear ourselves a little more clearly, we discover things we couldn't hear while we were busy trying to manage everything.


If you'd like to find out when the next Kitchen Table Conversations are taking place, you can find the latest dates here.


Has this got you thinking about your own energy?

Perhaps something you've read here has made you recognise some of the rules, patterns or ways of managing that have gradually become part of your own life with chronic fatigue.


And perhaps you're wondering what might change if you began to understand them differently — and created a little more room for choice.



Susan Smith, looking at the camera, smiling in welcome

If you'd like to explore what that could look like for you, you're very welcome to book a Let’s Meet conversation with me.


It’s a free, 30-minute conversation where we can talk about what’s going on for you now, what you’d like to be different, and whether there are places where some of your energy may have become caught up in managing, monitoring or trying to get things right.


There’s no expectation that you take a particular next step afterwards.

Sometimes it simply helps to have a conversation.


And whether you ever join me around the Kitchen Table or simply take something from this article, perhaps there's one question worth carrying with you:

Where would I like a little more room for me?


Not another rule to change.

Not another thing to get right.

Just something to become curious about.


Because perhaps understanding ourselves isn't the end of the conversation.

Perhaps it's where choice begins.

 
 
 

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