Episode 14: How to Care Less

Catch this episode on Apple, Spotify, or Android. 

Caring is beautiful…until it becomes a unsustainable. When you tie your worth to outcomes, over-function to prove your value, or spin in fear of being misunderstood, you end up exhausted.

In this episode, you’ll learn how to care differently. Not less because you’re disengaged, but less because you’re done outsourcing your peace to things you can’t control.

We’ll explore the identity shift that happens when you stop managing perceptions and start leading from clarity, not fear. You’ll walk away with practical ways to take back your emotional power, one imperfect, intentional action at a time.

What You'll Learn

• The subtle line between care and control and how to know when you’ve crossed it.
• Why loosening your emotional grip on outcomes doesn’t mean you’re disengaged.
• How high-achieving women often confuse over-caring with effectiveness (and what to do instead).
• Strategies to protect your energy while still showing up with heart and integrity.
• Simple ways to practice aligned care without over-functioning or over-apologizing

Episode Transcript

If you’ve ever sent an email and then reread it five times, wondering if you came across the wrong way…

If you’ve ever replayed a conversation in your head on loop, trying to figure out if you said too much or not enough…

If your mood has ever hinged on someone else’s approval or their silence…

Then you know what it feels like to care too much.

And not because you’re fragile. Not because you’re overreacting.
But because you do care. You care about doing good work. You care about showing up well. You care about being someone people can count on.

But somewhere along the way, caring quietly turned into over-caring.

Into over-managing, over-attaching, over-analyzing.
Into trying to earn your worth by obsessively curating how you’re perceived—how things land, how they’re received, how they’re interpreted.

And suddenly, your peace, your power, your sense of safety—they’re all hooked into things you can’t fully control.

This episode is for you if you’ve been feeling that hook—and you want to unhook with grace.

We’re not talking about becoming indifferent or disengaged.

We’re talking about a different kind of care. A cleaner kind. One that’s rooted in self-trust instead of self-surveillance.

And I’ll be honest—this shows up for me in my own coaching practice.

I care deeply about my clients. I care about their experience in the program. I care about whether they reach their goals or not.

But if I care too much, I get grippy.

I start trying to manage their experience. I over-offer. I slip into advice-giving.

And no one likes to be coached by someone who’s low-key trying to control the outcome.

It doesn’t help them grow—it actually interrupts their process.

Because my anxiety starts taking up space where their agency should be.

That’s the thing about over-caring: it often comes from love, but it feels like pressure.

And that’s not the kind of care any of us want to give—or receive.

So today, we’re going to look at how to care in a way that’s clean.
How to be committed without being consumed.

Because caring less doesn’t make you careless.
It makes you clearer. More grounded. And more powerful.

Let’s get into it.

SEGMENT 1: THE PROBLEM WITH OVER-CARING

So what does it really mean to “care too much”?

At its core, caring is a beautiful thing. It’s presence. It’s investment. It’s wanting to do right by people, by your work, by your values.

But over-caring is something else entirely.
It’s not about depth of feeling. It’s about distorted responsibility.

And here’s the tricky part: not all care is the same.

Let’s look at a few kinds:

You help your child name their big emotions after a hard day—not to make the feelings go away, but because you want them to feel safe and seen.
That’s emotional care rooted in love—offered without attachment to the outcome.

You take time to prep a thoughtful agenda for your team because you value their time and want to lead well.
That’s practical care offered with integrity—not perfectionism.

You spend 20 minutes rereading a two-line email because you’re afraid of sounding too abrupt.
That’s image-based care—driven by how you want to be perceived.

You say yes to the volunteer role, even though you're maxed out, because you’re afraid of being seen as selfish.
That’s fear-based care—rooted in anxiety, not alignment.

Two of these come from love.

Two come from pressure.

On the outside, image-based care and fear-based care can look like dedication.
But on the inside, it often feels like anxiety.

Because when care is driven by image or fear—fear of being misunderstood, of being disappointing, of being judged—you’re not just investing.

You’re attaching.

So what’s one form of care you’re offering right now—in your work, your parenting, your relationships?

And consider for a moment, is it flowing from love…or from pressure?

SEGMENT 2: WHY IT FEELS SO HARD TO CARE LESS

Let’s talk about why caring less feels hard. Caring less—especially for high-achieving women—is not a simple mindset tweak. It’s a real emotional risk. A nervous system event. 

And if it feels hard to let go, there are good reasons for that. I’m going to give you four reasons why caring less can feel really hard.

1. Your brain is wired for completion and certainty.

From a neuroscience perspective, the brain doesn’t like open loops. It wants resolution, clarity, control. When you’ve invested effort into something—a message, a meeting, a relationship—it feels unfinished until you’ve received some sort of reassuring signal: a “yes,” a “you did great,” a “that worked.”

So your brain keeps checking. Replaying. Tuning in like a surveillance drone.

It’s not because you’re neurotic. It’s because your brain is trying to keep you safe.
The problem is: safety and certainty are not the same thing.

And when your self-worth is tied to uncertain outcomes, the brain stays on high alert.
No wonder you feel exhausted.

2. Social conditioning told you care is your job.

For many women—especially those raised to be “good,” helpful, thoughtful—care isn’t just something you give. It’s who you think you are.

You’re the reliable one. The intuitive one. The one who picks up on unspoken needs and fills in the gaps. Not because you’re performing. But because it feels like your role.

So when you try to care a little less, it doesn’t just feel uncomfortable—it can feel disloyal.
Like you’re betraying your values. Or stepping out of identity.

It’s no wonder that a clean, healthy form of detachment can feel almost wrong—especially when the world has praised you for your over-efforting, over-giving, over-functioning.

3. Your nervous system may be using over-caring as a safety strategy.

According to polyvagal theory, your body’s sense of safety isn’t just about physical threat—it’s also relational. If you’ve learned that being “attuned” keeps the peace, earns connection, or helps you stay emotionally safe, your nervous system might actually equate over-caring with survival.

That email spiral? That replay loop? That urge to double-check how someone feels about you? That might not be mindset. That might be your body trying to stay connected, to stay safe, to stay in control.

But here’s the reframe: you are safe now. You are allowed to let go, even if your body isn’t totally on board yet.

And finally: over-caring has gotten you results.

You probably got good grades. Got the job. Got the reputation for being the one who “always shows up.”

So of course your brain says, “This is the way. Don’t stop now.”
Of course it feels risky to loosen the grip.
Of course it feels vulnerable to let people have their own thoughts about you.

But here’s the paradox: when you stop hustling for worth through control, you actually become more present. More creative. More grounded.

Not because you’re disengaged.
Because you’re finally aligned.

So I am curious…is there anywhere in your life does letting go feel especially risky right now?

Can you trace that tension back to one of these four roots—your brain’s need for certainty, your conditioning, your nervous system, or your past rewards?

And consider if anything shifts for you right now when you offer yourself compassion for why it feels hard.

SEGMENT 3: STRATEGIES

So how do you actually start to care less… without disconnecting? In a way that is clean but not cold?

These aren’t just surface-level swaps. They’re shifts in the way you relate to your thoughts, your energy, and your sense of self. Here are four key strategies to help you make that shift:

Strategy #1. Separate care from control.

This is one of the most powerful distinctions you can make.

- Care says: “I’m invested in how I show up.”

- Control says: “I need to manage how it’s received.”

The shift begins when you notice the moment care turns into attachment.
Try asking yourself:

- “Am I offering my best here—or trying to engineer a specific outcome?”
- “Am I grounded in contribution—or gripping for control?”

And let your answer be honest—not performative, not self-critical, just curious.

Here are some clean, grounded ways your brain might respond:

- “I’m definitely gripping a little. I want them to think I handled it perfectly.”

- “I notice I’m trying to guarantee they feel seen—so I’ll feel safe.”

- “Part of me wants to make sure no one’s disappointed, but I can’t control that.”

- “I showed up thoughtfully. The rest is out of my hands.”

- “I care, but I’m also afraid. That’s okay. I don’t need to fix it—I just need to notice it.”

These kinds of responses don’t shame you.
They name what’s happening with clarity and compassion.
That’s what loosens the grip. And taking a moment to name what’s going on with you before you continue taking action can save you a TON of time.

Let’s say you’re about to rewrite an email for the fourth time.

If you pause and notice:

“Okay. I’ve already said what I mean. Now I’m trying to protect how it’s going to land.”

Just naming that can interrupt the spin.
Suddenly, you realize: the work is done. You’re just looping.

Instead of spending 20 more minutes wordsmithing to make sure no one’s confused, offended, or underwhelmed, you send the thing—and move on with your day.

That’s 20 minutes back.
Not just of your time, but of your mental energy.

And more importantly? You’ve just practiced trust over control.
That moment of awareness? It builds on itself. Pretty soon, you’re not rewriting everything—you’re just… writing and then moving on with your day.

Strategy #2. Anchor into process, not outcome.

When you anchor into process, you shift from “Will this be enough?” to “Did I show up in integrity?”

Ask:

- How do I want to feel while I do this?

- What’s the energy I want to bring into this conversation, this project, this room?

This kind of presence is contagious. It’s also sustainable.

For example:

So instead of rereading the email, send it with the energy you want the reader to feel.

Maybe it’s clarity. Calm. Respect. Warmth.  Then take a deep breath, reread it once with that energy in mind—not to fix it, but to feel into it. And if it already reflects that energy?  You’re done. You’re not sending it to control their reaction. You’re sending it as an aligned expression of your intention. That’s the difference between obsessing and offering.

Or let’s say you’re heading into a tricky conversation—maybe a feedback moment, or a check-in with your boss. Instead of strategizing what to say perfectly, show up curious and clean.

Your brain wants to rehearse every possible version of what might be said… and how to respond to every possible reaction. You end up spending 45 minutes crafting the “perfect” phrasing instead of preparing your presence.

Instead, try this:

- Pause and ask: “What do I genuinely want to understand or communicate here?”

- Let that intention guide you, not a pre-approved script.

You might show up and say:

“I’ve been thinking about how that meeting went and wanted to check in—can we talk it through?”

Or: “I’m not here to convince, just to connect and see where we are.”

You’re not walking in to win. You’re walking in with curiosity and clarity.

That’s what it means to show up clean. Not polished. Just present.

Instead of replaying a moment on loop—what you said, how they reacted, what you should’ve done—pause and ask:

“Did I stay in alignment with how I want to live?”

Let’s say a coworker messaged you late at night, and you didn’t respond. The next morning, you wrote back kindly but clearly:

“Hey, I saw your message this morning. I’ve started unplugging after 6 to protect my family time. Happy to pick this up today.”

Now your brain is spiraling:
Was that too blunt? Are they annoyed? Should I have just answered last night?

Instead of rehashing the moment, ask:

“Was I respectful?”
“Was I honoring a value I want to live by?”
“Would I feel good about my kids or clients setting that same boundary?”

If the answer is yes, that’s your clarity. That’s alignment.

You don’t need to replay it to feel safe.  You just need to remember: you made that choice on purpose.

Strategy #3. Redefine what success means—for you.

Most over-caring loops come from an invisible success metric you didn’t consciously choose.

Ask:

- What am I calling “success” in this situation?

- Whose definition is that?

- What would it look like to define success as presence, courage, or self-respect?

For example, maybe you’re helping your child with homework. They’re tired. You’re tired. It's not going well. Your brain is subconsciously telling you success looks like getting it done, staying calm the whole time, and ending with a proud, grateful hug.

But what if success, in that moment, isn’t about the worksheet?

What if success is:

- I stayed connected to myself while my child had big emotions.

- I chose presence over pressure.

- I modeled how to pause instead of push through.

That redefinition matters. Because when the invisible metric is “a perfect outcome with no resistance,” every little bump feels like failure.

But if your definition of success is alignment with your values, you can walk away from the same moment with peace, not guilt.

And when that becomes your metric? You care just as deeply—but you stop measuring yourself by things you were never meant to control.

This isn’t about letting yourself off the hook.
It’s about getting honest: “Am I chasing someone else’s approval—or building my own peace?”

Strategy #4. Practice being misunderstood.

This one is tender. And true.

If you’re doing this work—if you’re loosening your grip, softening your control, reclaiming your energy—some people will notice.

And they might not like it.

They might interpret your calm as coldness. Your boundary as distance. Your clarity as indifference.

And it will be tempting to rush in and fix that.

But what if being misunderstood is not failure—it’s progress?

Let’s say you’ve always been the person who jumps in, over-prepares, and responds fast. You’re known for your reliability—but also for never really stopping.

Lately, though, you’ve been practicing something different:
You’ve stopped replying to messages late at night. You’re letting non-urgent requests wait. You’re giving just enough without chasing gold stars.

Then, in a team meeting, someone says lightly:

“Oh—I figured you’d already be on it.”
Or, “Wait—you’re not coming to that prep call?”
Or even just: “I was surprised not to hear from you.”

Nothing dramatic. Nothing overtly critical. Just enough to trigger the old reflex: Do they think I’m slacking? Do I need to prove I’m still committed?

But what if you didn’t? What if you let them think what they think—and you know why you made the choice?

This is where the growth lives. In letting the story stay incomplete. In not rushing to patch up someone else’s perception of you.

Not because you don’t care. But because you’re no longer outsourcing your worth to whether they “get” you.

Being misunderstood is uncomfortable—but sometimes it’s the clearest sign that you’re no longer managing everyone else’s expectations at the expense of your own peace.

SEGMENT 4: INCREMENTAL ACTION STEP

You don’t have to overhaul your patterns overnight. But you can take one small, powerful step toward caring differently—today.

I’m going to offer you four ways to begin, each one aligned with the strategies we explored, and I challenge you to pick one for yourself that feels like something you might want to try.

Strategy #1: Separate care from control

Send the message without rereading it five times.
Instead of asking, “Will they like it?”, ask, “Did I say what I mean with clarity and care?”
Then—release it.

Strategy #2: Anchor into process over outcome

Before a meeting or conversation, set an intention:

“I want to stay grounded and open while I do this.”  Let how you feel during the process be your feedback—not what happens after.

Strategy #3: Redefine what success means

Pick one area of your life—work, parenting, relationships—and rewrite the metric. Instead of: “Did they approve?”
Try: “Was I aligned with my values?” or “Did I lead with clarity and care?”

Keep that new definition visible. Write it down. Let it become your north star—so you’re no longer measuring success by something you can’t control.

Strategy #4: Practice being misunderstood

Say no without cushioning it.
Don’t explain your boundary. Don’t rush to soften their discomfort.
Let someone think what they think—and notice what it feels like to stay with yourself.

I’d love you to pause and consider which one you think you might want to try today.

CONCLUSION

These aren’t about withdrawing. They’re about offering what’s real—and letting it be enough.

Yes, your nervous system might protest. You might feel edgy, exposed, or a little guilty.

That’s not a problem. That’s the stretch.

You're building a new kind of strength. One rooted in presence, not performance. In clarity, not control. In self-trust.

And the next time your brain whispers, “But what if they think I don’t care?”  You can pause and remind yourself:

“I cared in a way I respect. That’s enough.”