When tired Nervous Systems lose their Boundaries
For a long time, I regulated myself through pressure.
Especially as a I became self-employed, there was a subtle belief shaping how I moved through the world: I need to work harder to be worthy. To be capable. To be the most knowledgeable person in the room. To stay one step ahead. To prove, quietly and constantly, that I belonged.
At the time, it looked like drive.
In my body, it was vigilance.
What I came to understand later is that this constant “doing” wasn’t ambition alone, it was a nervous system strategy. If I stayed alert, prepared, productive, and ahead of things, I could reduce uncertainty. I wouldn’t have to feel the discomfort of not knowing, or the vulnerability of trusting others, or the risk that comes with slowing down in relationship.
From a nervous system perspective, this makes sense.
When we don’t feel safe with uncertainty, the body shifts into a sympathetic state, mobilised, alert, scanning. We become efficient, capable, and driven… but also tense, tired, and eventually depleted. What we often praise as resilience is sometimes just prolonged activation.
The long-term cost of living beyond capacity isn’t only exhaustion, it’s erosion. Of presence. Of flexibility. Of boundaries.
When we’re chronically tired, we lose access to relational clarity, and something important happens then: boundaries weaken.
Not because we don’t know what we need, but because holding a boundary requires regulation. It takes energy to pause, to say no, to tolerate another person’s disappointment, to stay present with discomfort. When the system is depleted, compliance becomes easier than containment. Pleasing feels safer than asserting. Over-functioning feels less risky than holding a line.
This is where the relational piece becomes visible.
Have you ever noticed that when you’re exhausted, some people around you can become more demanding? More intrusive. Almost as if they want more from you, precisely when you have less to give. Often this isn’t conscious. Nervous systems communicate beneath words. A dysregulated system will unconsciously seek regulation from the environment. When your energy is low and your boundaries are porous, others may lean more heavily, or take, because their own system is searching for stability.
This isn’t about blame.
It’s about physiology.
And it’s why regulation and boundaries are inseparable. You cannot sustainably hold boundaries without enough regulation to support them. And the paradox is that many of us try to regulate through habits that actually destabilise us further.
Scrolling is a good example.
Every time we scroll, not knowing what’s coming next, we expose the nervous system to rapid emotional shifts, comparison, outrage, fear, inspiration, sadness, often within seconds. The brain doesn’t get time to integrate. The nervous system stays on alert. Over time, this unpredictability increases baseline activation.
So when we’re tired, we scroll to regulate.
We become more tired and disconnected.
Our boundaries soften.
We please, over-give, avoid.
We push through, until eventually life forces a stop.
The way out of this isn’t extreme. It’s relational and practical.
It starts with gentle but honest questions:
What pressure am I carrying that isn’t actually necessary?
What truly belongs to me, and what doesn’t?
Where am I over-responsible, and where am I avoiding responsibility?
Can I tolerate not intervening when others do things differently?
Can I let discomfort pass without fixing it?
Regulation isn’t about doing less for the sake of it. It’s about restoring enough balance to choose, rather than react. Presence, regulation, and boundaries aren’t luxuries or self-care trends. They’re the foundations that allow us to relate, work, and live without burning ourselves down in the process. This is why regulation is becoming such a visible topic. Not because something is wrong with us, but because our nervous systems are responding, intelligently, to the conditions we’re living in.
And learning how to come back into balance, together, matters.
