When the Wheels Fall Off: 7 Signs You're Not Burnt Out, You've Outgrown Your Life

If you're reading this, the wheels probably fell off.

Maybe it was sudden, a panic attack, a breakdown at work, a loss that cracked you wide open. Or maybe it was slow, and it took you a minute to realize life got heavy. Maybe you no longer know what brings you joy, or when you look in the mirror, you barely recognize the person staring back at you. 

Everyone thinks you're fine because you're successful. You're high-achieving, capable, and the one people call when they need help. But on the inside, you’re in turmoil. 

Here's what I need you to hear: You're not broken, and you didn't do anything wrong.

You're in transition, and sometimes this is what it feels like when you move from one phase of life to the next. But this liminal space, the space between who you were and who you're becoming, is a vulnerable, unsettling, and terrifying place to be.

But, it's also the most sacred.

Let me explain to you what's actually happening.

The Hermit Crab Truth: What Your "Breakdown" Actually Is

I was at a conference for female coaches, and I cried every single day. I had “retired” from my tenured college-level professor role and was on my way to Portugal. Even though I knew physically where I was headed, I was still trying to figure out what pivot I needed to make to generate income in a way that felt good to me and aligned with my skills and enjoyment. I felt raw, exposed, and like I shouldn't have been in the room because I must have been the only one who was lost. 

I met another attendee, and I’ll be honest, I probably emotionally dumped all over her. Thank god she was skilled enough to guide me instead of running away.

She told me I was a hermit crab.

The look on my face must have been something, because what now?!

She explained: A hermit crab doesn't have its own shell. It has to find a new one each time it outgrows the old. Your previous identity, work, and stability were like a shell, providing protection, but now it feels too small, confining, and maybe even threatening to your well-being. You're on the path to find a new, bigger, more expansive shell, one that aligns with the life you're reaching for.

But here's the thing: when a crab goes in search of a new shell, it has to leave the old one behind first.

Here's what nobody tells you: When a hermit crab is between shells, it's completely vulnerable. Its soft body is exposed, and it's sensitive as hell. That's when it feels most unstable and perceives everything as dangerous.

But it's also the only way it grows.

You are the hermit crab.

The shell you're leaving might be:

• A career identity that no longer fits

• The "good girl" who takes care of everyone

• The version of you who believed achievement = worthiness

• The relationship to your body before illness, weight gain, exhaustion, or children

• The life you had before grief changed everything

You outgrew it, and your body knows this, even if your mind is still catching up.

And now you're between shells, which means you're soft, vulnerable, and searching. Of course, you feel like you're dying! You're more sensitive. Innocent questions feel like an attack, and advice feels like criticism. The worst part, nobody seems to understand what you’re really going through, not even you.

But that's because the people who love you the most are probably still in their shells. Despite their best intentions, what they can't see is this:

You're becoming.

7 Signs You Haven't Just Burned Out, You've Outgrown Your Life

Let me help you identify where you actually are and to understand that these aren't signs of failure; they're signs of growth.

1. Your Body Developed Symptoms You Can't Explain

Weight gain that won't shift, no matter what you try, mysterious new aches and pains, getting sick more often, feeling exhausted, yet unable to sleep, or anything else strange that’s happening isn’t betrayal. It’s your body hollering at you to get your attention. 

I developed insulin resistance after my father died during the pandemic. My body literally couldn't process what I was consuming anymore, but wasn’t just about the food. I was trying to hold it all together, run a paralegal program, wind up my dad’s estate, and still show up for my friends and family. I was trying to fulfill roles that no longer fit.

Your body knows before your mind does, and when you ignore your intuition when it whispers to you, your body starts screaming.

2. The Dream Job Became a Nightmare

You worked so hard to get here: the degree, the applications, the years of grinding, and the salary. But now that you’ve had it for a few years (or decades), you dread Monday mornings, you don't want to answer emails, and you feel irritated by things that once excited you.

This isn't laziness, and it’s not a lack of gratitude. This is your soul telling you this shell no longer fits.

I had my dream job as a tenured college professor, department chair, and respected in my field. I loved teaching, but by 2022, I couldn't make myself show up on Zoom for class with excitement. That terrified me because if I didn't love teaching anymore, who was I?

The answer: I was shedding layers to emerge as someone else. 

3. You Can't Rest Even When You're Exhausted

You finally have a day off, and you spend it cleaning, running errands, and catching up on work. Or you try to rest and feel guilty the entire time. Your nervous system no longer knows how to be still. Although you know you need it, it’s so uncomfortable. 

This is what happens when your worth is tied to your productivity. When you've spent your whole life earning your place at the table, rest feels like laziness instead of a basic human need. Especially if you’re a person of color living in the United States. 

But here's the truth: You can't heal in the same environment that made you sick. Your body needs permission to stop, and that permission has to come from you.

4. You Feel Guilty for Wanting Something Different

You have everything you're "supposed" to want, so why aren't you happy? Other people would kill for your job, your life, your opportunities, and even your problems. What's wrong with you?

Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you!

The goals you set five years ago, ten years ago, or when you were 22 and thought you knew what life required, might not be aligned anymore. And that's okay.

I felt guilty for leaving my good “government job.” My parents didn't have that option, and my grandparents fought for me to have the opportunity I was ready to give up. The life I was living was the one they placed their lives on the line for me to have.

But standing in front of the Door of No Return at Elmina Castle in Ghana, I realized: all my people have ever wanted is to be free. If I could get myself free, I'd be honoring them.

5. You're Holding Everyone Else Together, But You're Falling Apart

You're the one your family calls when there’s a crisis because you’re the responsible one. The one who shows up, who handles things, and who doesn't complain. You've been doing it for so long that you forgot it's a role you're playing, not who you actually are.

But your body is keeping score, and eventually, it will force you to stop.

You're not selfish for wanting to put yourself first, and you're not weak for needing support. You're human, not superhuman, and you've been carrying everyone else long enough.

6. The Things That Used to Soothe You Don't Work Anymore

The workout routine that used to clear your head doesn't hit the same. You haven’t touched your favorite hobby in months, if not years. And you find yourself cancelling on your friends because you just want to be alone.

This isn't depression (though it might feel like it); this is your nervous system shutting down non-essential functions to conserve energy.

When you're between shells, everything feels threatening. Your body is trying to protect you by pulling back from the world, but what you actually need is the opposite. You need support, community, and space to be vulnerable.

7. You Know Something Has to Change, But You Don't Know What

This is the most disorienting one. You can feel it in your bones that this life isn't sustainable. But when you try to imagine what's next, you come up blank.

You don't have a plan, and you don't have examples of people who've done what you want to do. You don't even know what you want.

That's okay. You don’t need all the answers right now.

You can't see the next shell from inside the old one. You have to leave first, which requires you to be uncomfortable and exposed while you search. That's the only way forward.

What Happens If You Ignore These Signs

I want to be real with you about this: if you keep pushing through, your body will decide for you.

It'll be a health crisis, a breakdown, a relationship ending, a firing, or a forced resignation that makes you stop in your tracks. Something will interrupt your life loudly enough to make you choose yourself since you wouldn’t choose yourself. 

I've seen it happen, and it almost happened to me. I distinctly remember realizing that if I chose the job over myself, I’d lose myself completely (my mind and my body), and that was absolutely terrifying. 

The difference between a breakdown and a breakthrough is how much support you have while you're between shells.

What You Actually Need Right Now (And It's Not What You Think)

You don't need another productivity hack. You don't need to push harder or manage your time better. You don't need to "lean in" or "manifest" or gaslight yourself into gratitude for a life that's suffocating you.

What you need is this:

Permission to be selfish. Not selfish in the way you've been taught to fear. Selfish in the way that centers your actual needs, your actual desires, and your nervous system safety.

Space to be vulnerable. You need somewhere to go, a community to join, where you don't have to hold it together. Where can you put down the armor and just be soft for a minute.

Someone who gets it. Someone who's been between shells themselves. Someone who won't try to fix you, rush you, or tell you to be grateful for what you have.

Separation from your "real life." You can't break patterns in the environment that created them. You need physical distance, psychological distance, and time zone distance.

The Sacred Work of Being Between Shells

Here's what I wish someone had told me when I was in the thick of it:

This in-between space is not something to rush through. It's not a problem to solve; it's a transformation to experience. Remember when we used to say all the time when we were younger that “it’s not about the destination, but the journey.” Yeah, insert that quote here. 

It's uncomfortable, it's scary, and of course, you want to know what's next RIGHT NOW.

But if you can stay present with the discomfort, if you can let yourself be held through it, something incredible happens: you remember who you are beneath all the doing, proving, and performing.

You reconnect with your intuition, you hear what your body has been trying to tell you, and you start making decisions based on alignment instead of fear.

You find your next shell, and it's bigger, more expansive, more you than anything you've worn before.

But you can't do it alone, and you can't do it in the same place where everyone expects you to stay the same.

What Comes Next

If you're reading this and thinking, This is exactly what I'm experiencing, then you're in the right place.

You're not broken; you're just between shells. And that's the most sacred, vulnerable, important work you'll ever do.

The question isn't whether you'll find your next shell. The question is: what kind of support do you want as you search?

Do you want to white-knuckle it alone, hoping you figure it out before your body forces you to stop?

Or do you want to be held through it? To have space, safety, and someone who sees you when you can't see yourself?

That's what HELD is, a private 4-5 day retreat in Lisbon where you don't have to figure anything out. Where your only job is to show up and let yourself be supported.

It's not therapy, and it's not a quick fix. It's a curated start to your journey home to yourself. You can be held by someone who knows what it's like when the wheels fall off because I've been there too.

If this resonates, let's talk. Book a free discovery call, and we'll see if this is the container you need right now.

And if you're not ready yet, that's okay too. Download my free guide, When the Wheels Fall Off: A Survival Guide for the Black Woman in Transition. It includes nervous-system practices, worthiness anchors, and ancestral-connection exercises you can do right now, wherever you are.

You're becoming, and I'm here to remind you that you don't have to do it alone.

Related Reading:

• Solo Retreat in Lisbon: Why Portugal Is the Perfect Place for Black Women to Heal

• What Actually Happens at an Ancestral Healing Retreat (coming soon)