She first thought she was lazy, turns out she was modeling her mother.

I want to tell you about one of my clients—let’s call her Maya.

When Maya first came to me, she was exhausted. Not the kind of tired that goes away with few good night sleep, but the kind that wraps around you like a snake after years of putting everyone else first. She was a giver and a healer. A high-functioning, capable, endlessly responsible woman. A mom. A general practitioner. The one her family leaned on.

But when it came to herself—her body, her needs, her rest—she constantly pushed them aside.

She told me during our first consultation call, “I know what to do. I’ve read the books and listen to health podcasts. But I just can’t seem to do it. I’ll start, then I’ll fall off. And I always feel so guilty.”

Guilt. That was the thread running through everything. And under that guilt, something even deeper—grief, loss.

As we worked together, a past scenario came up.

Maya’s mother had been a full-time caregiver to her father, who was chronically ill. For over a decade, Maya watched her mother pour every ounce of energy into his needs—while quietly neglecting her own. She skipped meals, missed doctor's appointments. Her body slowly wearing down. And eventually, her mother fell into a deep depression. But no one talked about it. They just called her "strong mama"

Maya grew up breathing in this version of womanhood. Be strong. Be needed. Be selfless. There was no space for softness, or boundaries, or the least; rest.

And this kind of conditioning? It doesn’t just disappear when we grow up.

Psychologists call this modeling—when children internalize behavior they observe in caregivers as “normal. ”Maya didn’t just witness her mother neglecting her health; she learned that’s what love looks like. That’s what women do.

Add to that the effects of intergenerational trauma, where unprocessed emotional pain gets passed down not just in stories, but in the body; i need of survival; the nervous systems. Maya didn’t just carry her mother’s fatigue—she inherited her coping mechanisms, too.

This is why women like Maya often hit a wall. Because every time she tried to care for herself, another part of her would say “You’re being selfish.” “Other people need you more.” “You should be able to do it all.”

That voice? It wasn’t laziness. It was protective. A leftover part of her brain that learned: your worth is tied to what you do for others.

So we didn’t start with productivity hacks or diets.

We started with unlearning and re-connecting her with her body.

We worked on helping her recognize the Negativity Bias—a natural psychological tendency to focus on what’s wrong or not working that we tend to blow up in proportion. It kept her stuck in a loop of “I failed again” instead of “I’m learning to care differently. ”We explored self-worth exercises—how her belief about herself was built on in measures of performance and sacrifice. We practiced somatic work to feel safe in her body again. Because when your nervous system doesn’t feel safe, even a walk or a nourishing meal can feel like too much.

She began writing new narratives. Not the kind that shouted affirmations she didn’t believe yet. But gentle, grounded truths like:“ I can rest and still be worthy.”“ I am not my mother’s pain.” “I get to choose a new pattern.”

And over time, the shift came. Not all at once. But slowly, Maya began to trust herself again.

She stopped viewing self-care as a reward and started seeing it as a basic need. She no longer used food/workout to punish herself, but to fuel. She no longer spiraled when she skipped a workout—instead, she asked, “What does my body need today?”

The Maya I know now still has hard days. But she’s no longer running on empty. She’s rewriting the story for herself—and for her daughter.

I’m sharing this because maybe you’re a Maya too. Maybe you grew up watching a woman you love forget herself in service of others. Maybe you’ve mistaken burnout for failure. Maybe you’ve been calling it “laziness” when really—it’s grief, pain, loss. It’s inherited pain. It’s a body that’s been in survival mode for far too long.

And maybe what you need isn’t more discipline. Maybe what you need is permission.

To rest. To feel. To heal. To believe—truly—that your worth isn’t something you earn. It’s something you come home to.

If this story spoke to you, you might want to explore how your own conditioning has shaped your wellness journey. My free wellness personality quiz is a gentle, eye-opening way to reconnect with what your body and mind are really trying to say.

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You are not broken. You are meeting a new version of yourself.