So many of us are really good at knowing what we should do to take care of ourselves, regulate our nervous system, and heal.

We read the articles, listen to podcasts, maybe even work with a coach or therapist, and gather the “right” tools for when life gets hard. On paper, we know what to do in moments of stress, pain, or exhaustion.

But knowing something and embodying it are two very different things.

So often I see things in my everyday life that look like this:



• Someone says they feel dizzy or on the verge of blacking out, but when its suggested that they take a break, they choose to push through and insist, “I’ll be fine.”
• Or someone with a pounding headache refuses both medicine and alternative relief options, almost as if enduring the pain is supposed to prove something.
• Or a person weighed down by anxiety brushes off a simple breathwork exercise with a dismissive, “That won’t help me.”

What’s happening here isn’t ignorance. It’s a disconnect.

So many people live almost entirely in their heads, disconnected from the wisdom of their bodies. They know, intellectually, what could help them feel relief from their pain and suffering, but embodying it feels weird, uncomfortable, or even threatening.

Cultural Conditioning of “Push Through”

Part of the problem lies in our culture. We’re conditioned to believe that pushing harder is noble, while resting is weakness. We even have phrases that glorify the denial of our body’s needs. One I’ve heard countless times is:

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

It’s meant as a joke, but there’s a sad truth in it. It reflects a worldview that treats rest as optional, the body as an afterthought, and exhaustion as a badge of honor. And while people may laugh when they say it, I’ve seen firsthand how taking this mindset too literally can cost a life.

My Mother’s Story

My own mother lived under this conditioning. She pushed herself to keep going, ignoring the signals her body gave her, signals that something was deeply wrong. She brushed off the need to slow down, convinced that sheer willpower would carry her through.

But the body isn’t an infinite source of energy or renewal. It has limits. And when those limits are ignored for too long, they demand to be heard in ways that can’t be pushed through.

By the time my mom finally agreed to see a doctor, it was too late.

She passed away in the car on the way to her appointment. My mom was diagnosed with pneumonia that had gone untreated for too long after she was already gone. There was nothing anyone could do.

I share this story not to dwell on my own pain, but to honor her story. Because her experience is not unique, it’s what happens when the belief that “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” overshadows the simple truth that rest and care are not luxuries. They are survival.

From Knowing to Embodying

If you find yourself resonating with this (knowing the “right” thing but not doing it) you’re not alone. This is a common struggle, and it doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human, living in a culture that rewards the mind over the body.

The good news is: embodiment is learnable. Just as I had to teach myself to listen to my body, you can, too. It begins with small choices:



• Pausing when you feel lightheaded instead of powering through.
• Taking that breath before anxiety spirals, even if it feels silly.
• Stretching or resting when your body aches, rather than numbing or ignoring it.

These aren’t grand gestures—they’re everyday acts of reclaiming the wisdom of your body. And with practice, they become natural, even joyful.