Let's Talk
- Jodi Allen Corbett

- Feb 1
- 3 min read
Updated: Feb 26

I’ve come to realize that everyone experiences anxiety to some degree, but my levels are far from “normal.” For decades, I thought I was like everyone else. I assumed the way I felt and reacted to situations was typical.
As the eldest child, I was naturally obedient, relied on guidance, and worked hard to meet expectations. Being quiet by nature, I never outwardly showed signs of struggle. Even when anxiety overwhelmed me, it usually went unnoticed. I became an overachiever, driven not just by ambition but by a need for validation and the fear of disappointing those I loved. Over time, my success raised the bar for myself—and sometimes for those around me—adding immense pressure I didn’t recognize at the time.
I’ve faced plenty of challenges in life, and during tough times, my anxiety intensified along with unhealthy coping mechanisms. Thankfully, I’ve always had a strong support system in my friends and family and wasn’t afraid to seek professional help when needed.
But as I approach this new decade of life, and with the physical changes of perimenopause, I’ve realized that my fuel tank is empty, and my self-care has been nonexistent.
Soul-searching, honest conversations with a few trusted friends and colleagues, and my husband’s persistent concern forced me to see what I’d been avoiding.
When my tank is empty, I can’t use the coping mechanisms I’ve developed over the years. I can’t identify the triggers that worsen my anxiety or sit with my emotions long enough to understand them. I’ve lost the ability to function in ways that used to fulfill me.
Everyday tasks became overwhelming. My physical health suffered as my body screamed at me to stop. I felt decades older than my actual age. I feel decades older.
I’ve always encouraged others to prioritize their well-being, yet I haven’t practiced what I preach. Avoidance became my default. I buried myself in work—something I love but allowed to consume me. Working gave me a sense of control and distracted me from my feelings and physical struggles.
This week, I attended a workshop that emphasized the importance of self-care as the foundation of overall health. It reminded me that emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual challenges will always arise, and you need fuel in your tank to face them.
Without fuel, even the best coping mechanisms fail. You can’t process emotions, identify triggers, or navigate life’s challenges.
I was asked to think about my own mental state using the analogy of traffic lights:
Green: Systems are working harmoniously; you feel joy.
Yellow: Fight or flight mode; high stress and anxiety.
Red: Shut down; frozen in sadness or fear, unable to function.
When asked where I’ve been over the past six months, the answer hit me hard. Green—joy? I can’t remember the last time I felt it. I admitted to my doctor, and for the first time to my husband, that I don’t enjoy or look forward to the things I used to love. His stunned response: “I didn’t realize that…”
For a long time, I have lived in the yellow zone—constantly anxious, exhausted, and on edge. Then last summer, I hit red. My body shut down. I slept 10-12 hours at night with 3-4 hour naps daily. I called it exhaustion, but it was burnout. Rest gave me just enough energy to return to what I love—helping little ones, families, and continuing to grow professionally—but it was not enough to sustain me.
I’ve been told I’m brave for getting help. I’m working on believing that. It’s hard to do this work. I’m trying to be kind to myself, to give myself grace, to prioritize my health and refill my tank. I want to find joy again—in my work, with my family, and in the experiences I’ve been too depleted to fully enjoy.
The people who love me most have been scared. Scared that I won’t be here if I don’t make a change.
Awareness and education are the first steps. For too long, I’ve avoided admitting that I’m not okay. But now, I’m ready to prioritize myself.
Here’s what I’m learning:
• Fill your tank.
• Establish routines for self-care.
• Sleep to repair and rest your body.
• Eat nourishing, real food.
• Laugh. Play.
• Set boundaries.
• Do things you love.
• Find your people.
• Strength is asking for help.
Here’s how you can make a difference:
• Start a meaningful conversation.
• Share your story.
• Check in friends, family, or coworkers.



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