When We Push Through: A Reflection on Self-Care, Culture and the Cost of Running on Empty

I started writing this weeks blog on the train home on Wednesday. I had been in London for a meeting and then delivering a talk to managers in the entertainment industry.

It had been a couple of great working days, and as usual on the way home I reflect on my privilege to be in a position to spend my time talking about the importance of wellbeing in and out of work.

Seeing managers genuinely consider how they can take better care of themselves and their teams is inspiring.

And yet, as I sit here, something keeps pulling my attention: the man behind me.

He’s coughing constantly. Not a mild sniffle, but the kind of deep, chesty cough that sounds like he should be at home under a blanket, not squeezed into a packed commuter train. He’s smartly dressed, and every few seconds, between coughing fits, I hear him hammering away at his laptop keyboard.

Part of me wants to shake my head, but the other part of me, the therapist part, feels something else entirely:

Compassion.

Because I don’t know his story.

I don’t know his role, his responsibilities, or the pressure he might be under.

I don’t know whether he’s the one people rely on.

I don’t know what expectations he’s been absorbing from his workplace, his family, or himself.

But I do know this:

We live in a culture that rewards pushing through.

The Cost of Pushing Through

In today’s session, I talked about the importance of self-care, the kind of self-care that isn’t just bubble baths and scented candles, but something far more difficult:

saying no.

Saying:

• “I’m unwell today.”

• “I can’t take that on right now.”

• “I need rest.”

It sounds simple.

It’s anything but.

I can’t help but wonder:

What would have happened today if this man had listened to his body instead of overriding it?

Would he have felt judged? Weak? Afraid of letting someone down? Worried about how it might look?

I see this all the time in counselling.

People ignoring themselves because they don’t feel “ill enough,” “important enough,” or “entitled enough” to take up space or ask for support.

People pushing through, running on fumes, convincing themselves they’re fine because that’s what life has taught them to do.

You Can’t Give From an Empty Cup

I say this often. to clients, to audiences, and to myself:

You can’t give from an empty cup.

And I know this deeply because I live it.

I’m a father. My two little girls depend on me.

I’m a therapist. I have a duty of care to every person who sits with me.

I’m a fiancé, a friend, a colleague, someone who naturally leans into caring for others.

But I also know this:

If I’m running on empty, I can’t be who they need me to be.

Not fully.

Not sustainably.

Self-care is not indulgence.

Self-care is maintenance.

Self-care is responsibility.

Self-care is modelling what healthy actually looks like.

Some days, the bravest thing we can do is say,

“I’m staying home today.”

The Courage to Say No

We talk a lot about bravery as action, motion, productivity.

But sometimes bravery is:

• setting boundaries,

• cancelling plans,

• turning off our emails,

• asking for help,

• giving ourselves permission to rest.

It’s uncomfortable, especially in a world that praises busyness and applauds burnout disguised as commitment.

But every time we exercise that courage, we quietly give others permission to do the same.

Back to the Man on the Train…

I don’t know him.

I don’t know his circumstances.

What I do know is this:

He is not the problem.

The culture is.

A culture where productivity is prized above wellbeing.

Where rest feels like a luxury rather than a necessity.

Where being run-down is worn like a badge of honour.

Where we tell people to put their oxygen mask on first but reward those who suffocate for the sake of the team.

And it’s in moments like this, watching someone visibly unwell force themselves through their day, that I’m reminded why these conversations matter.

A Question for You

So let me ask you:

When was the last time you pushed through when you really needed to pause?

And more importantly:

What did it cost you?

Your body keeps the score, even when you pretend you’re fine.

Your mind feels the strain, even when you stay silent.

Your relationships notice the shift, even when you carry on like everything’s normal.

Rest isn’t weakness.

Rest is repair.

Rest is responsibility. To yourself and to the people who rely on you.

If You’re Tired of Carrying Everything Alone

If any of this resonates, the pushing through, the pressure, the guilt around slowing down.

Then counselling can offer a space to step back, breathe, and figure out what you actually need.

If you’d like to explore whether counselling could support you, I’d be glad to hear from you.

You can book a free, informal consultation call by hitting the button at the top of the page, no pressure, no obligation.

Just a space to talk.

Take care of yourself.

Your cup matters.