Learning to Recognise the Early Signals of Stress

Most of us are taught to solve problems with our minds.

Think it through.
Analyse the situation.
Push through and keep going.

But the body often knows something is wrong long before the mind catches up.

We experience the world BODY first, not MIND first.

Long before burnout.
Long before emotional overwhelm.
Long before we consciously recognise stress.

Our nervous system is constantly communicating with us through subtle physical signals.

The problem is that many of us have learned to ignore those signals.

Over time, this disconnect between the mind and body can make stress build quietly in the background - until the body eventually demands attention.

Learning to recognise these signals is one of the most powerful steps in nervous system awareness and stress prevention.

I hear this all the time from people I work with:

"I keep hearing about nervous system regulation… but I don’t actually understand what it means."

Maybe you’ve heard the phrases too:

• regulate your nervous system

• fight or flight

• somatic practices

• trauma-informed wellbeing

• vagus nerve activation

But no one has ever really explained what the nervous system actually is, or why it matters so much for stress, burnout, and emotional wellbeing.

So this is a very simple guide.

No medical jargon.
No complicated biology.

Just the basics of how your body and mind work together to keep you safe.

So many people ask me to explain to them what the Nervous System is, like as if they know nothing - a “nervous system for dummies” explanation.

I think it’s shocking that this isn’t taught to young kids in school, to doctors, mental health practitioners, and really anyone interacting with… I dunno - other humans!?

It’s basic human life, and we don’t know about it, no wonder so many of us are crumbling - we’re simply not equipped to know how to manage ourselves, interpret our own behaviours and translate anyone around us.

We talk a lot about stress.

Stress at work.
Stress in leadership.
Stress in relationships.
Stress in modern life.

But very rarely do we talk about the system in the body that is actually processing all of that stress in the first place.

I hate the phrase “my anxiety”.

Because when we say it like that, it makes it feel like anxiety is part of us.
Something we own.
Something we’re stuck with.
It makes it our identity.

And here’s the truth:
You are not anxiety.
Anxiety is not you.

For too long, anxiety has been framed as a mental health diagnosis. And while therapy, meditation, and medication can help with the racing thoughts, the fear, and the worry - too often, we forget the body behind the feelings.

We live in a culture that treats beauty like a luxury.

A bonus.
An indulgence.
Something you add after the “important” things are handled.

But your nervous system does not experience beauty as decoration.

It experiences it as safety.

Beauty is not superficial.
It is regulatory.

And if you’ve been feeling burnt out, overstimulated, disconnected, or quietly numb — the absence of beauty in your environment may be part of the story.

There is a version of leadership that is loud.

You know the type I mean? Needing people to feel small and quiet, so they can feel big and important.

Got them pictured in your mind?

Good.

The leadership style is productivity-driven.
Always available.
Always on.

Guaranteed to be always dysregulated.

And then there is the kind of leadership that actually sustains a life.

The kind that understands that the nervous system is not separate from the boardroom, or that your home is not separate from your strategy. That your body is not separate from your performance.

This is the leadership I am interested in.

Not leadership as performance.
Leadership as integration.

I have always prioritised having a beautiful home.
That’s never been the problem.

As an interior designer, creating calm, intentional spaces has been second nature to me for years.

My home has always been thoughtful, styled, organised - somewhere people walked into and immediately said, “Wow, it feels so peaceful here.”

And yet… I didn’t always feel peaceful.

What I noticed - long before I had language for trauma-informed somatic work or neuroaesthetics - was how deeply my body reacted to visual mess.

There was a season where I genuinely thought something was wrong with me.

I felt disconnected. Flat. Tired in a way sleep didn’t fix.
I’d get heart palpitations, or butterflies in my stomach for no apparent reason.
I would shut down emotionally randomly out of the blue.
My mind was busy, but my body felt miles away.
I couldn’t always feel joy properly — but I also couldn’t fully access sadness or rest either.

So once I started talking therapy I told my therapist I thought I was dissociated.
And honestly? In some ways, I absolutely was.

But what I didn’t realise at the time was this:
My nervous system had been stuck in survival mode for so long that I’d never learned how to listen to my body.

There was a season where, on paper, I looked like I was thriving, and by most metrics - I was!

I was leading projects. Supporting clients. Holding space for teams. Creating, designing, mentoring — doing meaningful work that mattered deeply to me.

And yet, behind the scenes, my body was quietly unravelling.

My shoulders were permanently tight. My breath sat high in my chest. I woke up tired even after a full night’s sleep. Brain fog crept in where clarity used to live. My nervous system felt constantly “on edge,” scanning for the next problem to solve, the next person to support, the next crisis to navigate - although I didn’t know any of the language to identify this, or even that this was ‘a thing’!

I told myself it was normal.

Helping everyone else rest taught me how little I was listening to my own body.

A few years ago, my work was all about creating calm, restful homes for other people. I helped clients from all walks of life — leaders of companies, kibbutz dwellers, friends, and family. My job was to help them feel rest and peace at home, through beauty, organisation, redesigning layouts, and choosing aesthetics that supported calm.

And I was so good at it! It made me happy.

Except… It wasn’t proving peace and calm for myself. I painted every inch of my home, curated every detail, and was intentional about every choice — all while my family grew around me.

I thought I was resting. Weekends off. Screen-free evenings. Holidays… sometimes. But I never felt restored. My energy stayed low. My mind constantly buzzed. My body remained tense. I didn’t realise it, but my nervous system was running on overdrive — and all the “rest” in the world couldn’t fix it.

It took hitting burnout to notice.

Welcome to a space on the internet where you can say it out loud:
life is hard, and you’re exhausted.

Maybe you’re not sleeping properly, but you’re getting just enough rest to function. Or maybe you spend all week looking forward to the weekend - to the rest you hope will reset you - only to find you can’t switch off. Or perhaps you’ve reached the point where you know you’re burnt out, but you genuinely can’t see a way out.