The Gift Hidden in Losing My Executive Functioning, Rebuilding My Nervous System

Allie with her dog, Molly

There was a time when my entire identity was built on what I could do, how much I could carry, and how well I could perform.

I was always in motion. At my busiest, I had anywhere from 10-30 training dogs in my kennel, plus my own personal dogs and litters of puppies., managing as many as 5 employees. I served multiple years on dog club boards, acted as hunt test secretary and chairman, and at one point even secretaried a hunt test while marshalling junior and running six dogs — then marshalled senior and ran two more, then closed out the books on the test over the next 2 days.

Looking back now, I honestly have no idea how I managed all of that. But I do know why I kept saying yes.

I had learned to people-please my way through life. I thought my value came from being helpful, productive, and always available. Subconsciously, I think I also spread myself so thin so that if I ever fell short or failed, I could fall back on the excuse: “I was just too busy.”

The truth is, I was terrified of slowing down. If I stopped moving, what feelings might catch up with me? What truths might I have to face about my exhaustion, my pain, my worth? And if I stopped long enough, would I finally have to face the reality of a relationship that was breaking me down instead of building me up?

So I just kept going.

And then, my nervous system said: enough.

When my executive functioning began to collapse, I couldn’t keep everything spinning anymore. Suddenly, juggling endless responsibilities was no longer possible. I had to strip everything down to the essentials.

Now, I take on three client dogs a month — and that’s it. When I experimented with taking a fourth this spring, I found myself back in 90-hour work week, I was exhausted and I simply couldn't cut it. It was a powerful reminder that my nervous system simply won’t let me live that way anymore.

So, I shifted. I stepped away from all formal responsibilities within dog clubs. I only accept assignments I know I can complete. I focus on quality over quantity.

It has felt, at times, like I had to make myself small in order to grow. I narrowed my focus to what was directly in front of me, the things that truly needed my attention. Slowly, I’ve started to add back in little things — small responsibilities, small yes’s here and there — but most of my energy goes into two things: nurturing my small training business and healing my nervous system.

Instead of saying yes out of obligation, I’m learning to say yes to experiences that are enriching, playful, and life-giving. I’m experimenting with what I actually like instead of what I thought I should like.

That loss of executive functioning has become one of my greatest teachers. It has forced me to listen deeply — to my body, to my inner rhythms, to my highest self. There’s nothing left to perform. The show is over.

At least for the rest of the world.

But the show for me? That’s just beginning.

If You’re Here Too…

If you’ve felt the grief of not being able to “keep up” like you used to, I want you to know you’re not broken. You’re not failing.

Sometimes what looks like loss is actually the body’s way of protecting you. It’s your nervous system closing the door on survival mode so you can finally begin to live differently.

Maybe, like me, this is your invitation to focus on less — so you can receive more. More peace. More truth. More presence. More joy.

Because the end of the performance isn’t the end of your story. It might just be the beginning of the most honest, most alive chapter of your life.