Why Tina is Hanging Up Her Running Shoes

Hey everyone, it’s Tina. Pull up a chair, grab a snack (one you don’t have to share), and let’s have a real “heart-to-phone” talk.

I saw a quote today that hit me harder than my alarm clock on a Monday morning. It said: “When you’re the one always doing the emotional legwork, it starts to rewire your nervous system to associate love with effort, anxiety, and the need to be responsible for maintaining peace, even when you didn’t disturb it.”

And then it hit me. I’m not just tired. I’ve been running an emotional marathon for years, and I didn’t even get a souvenir t-shirt or a banana at the finish line.

The Exhaustion of Emotional Legwork

For those of you who are lucky enough to not know what this feels like, let me paint a picture. Emotional legwork is the invisible job of being the “Manager of Everyone’s Feelings.”

The “Manager of Everyone’s Feelings”

It’s being the one who:

• Senses a “vibe shift” in the room and immediately starts cracking jokes to fix it. • Apologizes for things they didn’t do just to stop the awkward silence. • Pre-calculates how to phrase a simple request so it doesn’t “upset” anyone. • Remembers the birthdays, the anniversaries, and the fact that your cousin’s roommate’s sister is allergic to peanuts—all while the other person forgets what day of the week it is.

It’s exhausting. It’s like being the only person in a rowboat who is actually rowing, while everyone else is just commenting on how nice the water looks.

Rewiring the Nervous System

The quote mentioned “rewiring your nervous system,” and honestly, that’s the part that keeps me up at night. Because I realized that I’ve started to think that if I’m not stressed, I’m not loving.

I’ve conditioned myself to think that a healthy relationship—whether it’s with a partner, a friend, or even family—requires me to be on high alert. If there’s peace, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. If things are quiet, I’m wondering who I offended. I’ve associated “effort” with “affection.”

Associating Effort with Affection

If I’m not working for it, I feel like I don’t deserve it. And let me tell you, that is a exhausting way to live. My nervous system is basically a bunch of frayed wires sparking every time someone doesn’t use an emoji in a text message.

The Trap of the “Slowtationship”

The wildest part? I find myself maintaining peace for situations I didn’t even disturb. Have you ever been in a room where two other people are arguing, and you’re the one who ends up with a headache trying to mediate? Or when someone is in a bad mood—nothing to do with you—but you spend the next three hours trying to “cheer them up” like it’s your professional calling?

That’s the “Slowtationship” energy. It’s that slow, agonizing realization that the connection is moving at the speed of your own exhaustion. If you stop rowing, the boat just… sits there.

My Semi-Retirement Manifesto

So, I’ve decided I’m going into semi-retirement. Not from people—I still love (most of) you—but from the legwork.

Here is my new manifesto:

1. Your mood is not my to-do list. If you’re grumpy, you can be grumpy. I’ll be over here eating my toast.
2. I am not an unpaid therapist. If you want me to analyze your life for three hours, I’m going to start charging by the minute or requiring payment in high-quality tacos.
3. Silence is not an emergency. If the room is quiet, I’m going to let it stay quiet. I’m not going to perform a one-woman show to “fill the gap.”
4. Reciprocity is mandatory. If I’m the only one reaching out, checking in, and showing up… I’m going to take a nap instead.

Resigning as Chief Emotional Officer

Love shouldn’t feel like a CrossFit workout. It should feel like coming home. If you’re reading this and you feel like the “Chief Emotional Officer” of your life, this is your sign to resign. Let the peace be disturbed. Let the silence happen. The people who truly value you will pick up a pair of oars and start rowing too.

I’m done with the “slowtationships.” From now on, if it’s not easy, I’m not doing the extra credit.

Does this resonate with you, or are you one of the lucky ones who just sits in the boat? If you’ve ever felt like the “Emotional Manager,” tell me your story—I’d love to know I’m not the only one retiring today!

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