Sometimes showing up means knowing when to stop

A hot bath, a very full week and the midlife lesson I am still learning about protecting the energy I actually have.

On Friday morning, I was supposed to go to the gym.

I had told myself I was going. I know I usually enjoy it once I get there, and I could already hear that familiar little voice saying, Come on, Donna. Just get yourself moving.

Except my body was not being subtle.

I was exhausted. My brain was barely working. My whole body was sore, and even standing up felt like a serious proposal requiring committee approval. My fibromyalgia had flared after one of the fullest weeks I have had in a while.

So I changed the plan.

I did not go to the gym. I had a hot bath instead.

And honestly? For somebody who has built a life around movement, teaching and encouraging other people to keep going, that small decision felt surprisingly significant.

The week before the bath

The bath makes more sense if I tell you what came before it.

On Wednesday evening, we opened the doors of our little kirk in Dounby for the Thrive Studio open evening. The kirk is the former church building that Orkney Dance & Fitness hopes to develop into a welcoming movement and wellbeing space for the community.

More than 50 people came through those doors.

Most of our board were there. Summer, my daughter, was there. We welcomed people from Firstport, Voluntary Action Orkney and Rural Solutions. People asked questions, offered ideas and gave us positive feedback that can now feed into the first stage of feasibility work.

For months, the Thrive Studio has existed as plans, conversations, funding questions and a very large vision inside my head. On Wednesday, the community physically walked into it.

That was huge.

It was also exhausting.

Summer had made scones, which I nibbled before the event because otherwise there was every chance I would forget to eat. Afterwards, she helped me pack the van for Thursday’s early start. Then I went to bed and slept like a log.

This is often what real support looks like. Not somebody dramatically sweeping in and taking over your whole life. Sometimes it is a scone placed within reach and another pair of hands packing the van.

Stand 29

On Thursday, I took Orkney Dance & Fitness to a careers fair at the Pickaquoy Centre in Kirkwall.

ODAF is the community-focused non-profit social enterprise I founded to create inclusive opportunities for people of different ages and abilities to move and connect across Orkney, including our smaller rural and island communities.

Our place at the careers fair was Stand 29.

That number carried more history than anybody walking past would have known. Years ago, I worked at the same centre. One of my last classes was taught in roughly the same part of the arena. Afterwards, I sat alone in my car having a panic attack at a very difficult point in my career.

This week, I walked back into that arena representing the organisation I built afterwards.

Not only that: young people have since emailed me to ask how they can get into fitness, train and teach.

The thing born partly from a painful chapter in my own working life is now showing somebody else that a career might be possible.

I cannot tidy that into a neat little “everything happens for a reason” slogan. Difficult experiences are difficult, and I will not pretend otherwise. But I can say this: the hardest moment did not get the final word.

I kept taking the next step. This week, one of those steps took me back to Stand 29.

Then, because Thursday apparently needed another act, I left the careers fair and taught two fully booked classes: Boogie Bounce followed by Fitness Pilates.

Wonderful? Yes.

A lot for one nervous system and one body? Also yes.

Rest is not the opposite of showing up

By Friday morning, my body had an opinion about all of this.

The old version of “showing up” would have been forcing myself into the gym because I had said I was going. I might have treated changing the plan as weakness, laziness or a failure of discipline.

But showing up for yourself is not always doing the most demanding thing on the list.

Sometimes it is noticing what the day requires and responding honestly.

I knew I had an important video call later that morning with a television producer. We discussed practical ideas for what filming some of our classes might look like if the production chooses to come to Orkney. It is still exploratory, and nothing is guaranteed, but it was a conversation I wanted enough capacity to take part in properly.

Going to the gym would not have proved that I was strong. On that particular morning, the stronger choice was protecting the little energy I had.

The NHS guidance on fibromyalgia describes fatigue and pain as two of its main symptoms. It recommends an exercise programme suited to the individual, while also making time for relaxation.

NHS inform explains pacing as balancing activity with rest, avoiding pushing beyond your limits and listening to your body when rest is needed. That does not mean movement is unhelpful; regular, appropriate activity can support symptom management and overall health. It means the answer is not automatically “push harder”.

(https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/fibromyalgia/self-help/) and (https://www.nhsinform.scot/illnesses-and-conditions/muscle-bone-and-joints/conditions/fibromyalgia/)

That balance matters whether you live with fibromyalgia or simply recognise what it is like to reach Friday with nothing left in the tank.

In midlife, the load is rarely only physical. It can be perimenopause symptoms, poor sleep, brain fog, work, parenting, caring, household jobs, relationships and the invisible responsibility of remembering what everybody else needs. A day can look fairly ordinary from the outside while costing an enormous amount of mental and emotional energy.

We do not have to wait until we collapse before rest becomes legitimate.

You cannot put rest at the end of an endless list

That may be the real lesson from this week.

Rest is not what happens when everything is finished, because everything is never finished.

There will always be another email, class plan, funding task, load of washing, family job or brilliant idea appearing at precisely the moment I should be going to bed. My ADHD brain is particularly gifted at producing a new project when the sensible part of me is already wearing pyjamas. 😂

If I place rest at the bottom of that list, I am not scheduling rest. I am quietly cancelling it.

And I am learning that support counts too.

It counted when our board helped bring the open evening together. It counted when Summer made scones and packed the van. It counted when I chose heat and quiet on Friday morning. None of those things made me less capable. They made an extraordinary week more carryable.

This is not me announcing that I have mastered pacing, by the way. The evidence against that would be substantial. 😂

On Saturday, I taught RetroFitMix, ran a busy Glow Girls workshop, had lunch and a wander around the shops with Summer and Bev, then taught a lively Pilates & Prosecco event. I still taught all my classes (10 this week not including extras).

If you have landed here after joining me there yesterday, welcome. You caught me at the end of one of my busiest, most exciting and most exhausting weeks in a while—so if I looked particularly pleased to see the Prosecco, now you know why. 😂🥂

But Saturday evening had a boundary.

Summer and I rearranged the sofas so the sofa bed could face the television with appropriate symmetry—an essential operational requirement, obviously. Then came pyjamas, duvets, pillows, teddy bears, Chinese food, sweeties and the rest of our documentary we've been watching.

Nothing productive.

Exactly what was needed.

Move | Connect | Thrive can change with the day

This week reminded me that Move | Connect | Thrive is not a demand to perform at the same level every day.

Move was teaching full classes, standing at a careers fair and carrying boxes into the kirk. On Friday morning, it was getting into a warm bath and letting my body soften instead of asking it for more.

Connect was more than 50 people sharing ideas about the Thrive Studio. It was young people getting in touch about a possible future in fitness. It was a daughter making scones and a board helping a vision move forward.

Thrive was not squeezing one more achievement from an already full week. It was recognising that opportunities only matter if there is enough of me left to experience them.

Perhaps you need that permission too.

You can be committed to your health and change today’s workout.

You can care deeply about your work and still close the laptop.

You can love your family and ask them to help.

You can be grateful for an exciting season and admit that it is tiring.

You do not have to choose between being a woman who keeps going and a woman who knows when to stop. Real strength includes both.

Your Ridiculously Small Sunday Challenge

Cancel or soften one non-essential demand today.

That is all.

Skip the extra errand. Make the movement gentler. Leave the washing for tomorrow. Sit down for ten minutes without turning the rest into a task you must perform correctly.

Choose one small place to stop before your body has to shout.

If you would like a gentle bit of supportive movement on a day when an hour-long workout feels impossible, download my free 15-Minute Magic Menopause Reset.

Until next Sunday 🩷

Donna xx
The Midlife Thrive Club
Move | Connect | Thrive
Let’s simply start together.

If you’d like a realistic way to begin moving again, download my free 15-Minute-a-Day Magic Menopause Reset. No punishing workouts and no complete life overhaul—just manageable movement for real midlife weeks.

This article provides general information and is not a substitute for individual medical advice. Speak to an appropriately qualified healthcare professional about symptoms, recovery after a procedure or movement that may need to be adapted for your circumstances.