Teareny Maybe

For a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me.

I don’t move fast by default.
I don’t thrive on constant output.
I don’t do my best thinking under pressure.

So I told myself a story: that I was lazy. Unmotivated. Undisciplined.
It was a narrative that was often supported, or initiated by my Narcissistic ex.

What I understand now is that none of that was true.

What I was doing (often without language for it) was coping… regulating.

Regulation looks suspicious in a world that worships urgency. It looks like pausing before responding. It looks like planning slowly. It looks like resting before collapse instead of after.

From the outside, that can look like doing less.
From the inside, it feels like staying intact.

When I override my body to meet someone else’s pace, I don’t become more productive… I become fragmented. My thinking narrows. My creativity shuts down. My patience thins. I might still be moving, but I’m not actually here.

Regulation brings me back into myself.

It’s the state where I can sense what matters.
Where I can make decisions without resentment.
Where my work has coherence instead of just momentum.

Calling that laziness is convenient, especially for systems that benefit from me overriding myself. But it’s deeply inaccurate.

Laziness avoids engagement.
Regulation enables it.

I still work. I still create. I still show up. I just refuse to do it in a way that costs me my nervous system as collateral damage.

That choice has changed how I plan, how I rest, how I say yes, and how I say no. It’s changed what I measure as “enough.” It’s changed what I’m willing to sustain long-term.

I’m not trying to be efficient anymore.
I’m trying to be durable.