How False Urgency Hijacks Growth (and What to Do Instead)
You know the feeling. That sudden surge of energy that doesn’t quite feel like inspiration but still demands action. Your heart races. Your breath shortens. Thoughts whirl in your head like a storm you can’t slow down. You feel pressure building from the inside out, insisting something must change right now, or that you need to decide, to move, to fix.
And so you name it urgency. You call it drive. You label it leadership.
But what if it’s something else entirely?
What if this urgency isn’t wisdom or discernment or a call to courage? What if it’s an old reflex, one wired for survival, not growth?
When Your Body Mistakes Growth for Danger
Because often, that frantic push to act is not a signal to move forward. It’s your body pulling you back.
Your nerve system is exquisitely attuned to patterns, especially those shaped by pain or uncertainty. It doesn’t ask whether growth is good; it only asks whether it feels familiar and safe.
So when you step into unfamiliar territory, even when it’s full of potential, your brain starts ringing internal alarms. Your amygdala flares. Cortisol floods your bloodstream. Your RAS begins filtering your environment for threats. And your vagus nerve sends a message to brace for impact.
Not because danger is real, but because something unfamiliar is present. And in the language of a wounded past, unfamiliar means unsafe.
This is why trauma responses so often masquerade as strategy.
They don’t always look like retreat or collapse. Sometimes they show up as hustle. As passion. As over-functioning. As the compulsion to act, decide, speak, solve, immediately. And unless we’ve learned to pause and listen more deeply, we’ll mistake that drive for clarity. We’ll call it productivity when it’s really panic. We’ll label it discipline when it’s actually self-abandonment.
The Real Cost of Obeying Urgency
Because when urgency takes the lead, presence goes silent. You say yes too quickly. You agree to things you know will drain you. You set boundaries but don’t keep them. You override your internal wisdom—not because you don’t have it, but because you’re too spun out to hear it.
And that’s the cost of obeying false urgency. It doesn’t just exhaust you. It severs your connection to your own knowing. Your decisions start coming from compensation instead of conviction. Your leadership becomes reactive instead of rooted. And your creativity? It collapses under the weight of too many rushed choices and not enough space to breathe.
What It Means to Choose a New Rhythm
But this story doesn’t have to end here.
Every time you recognize the pattern, you interrupt it. Every time you pause instead of push, you rewire something essential. Your nerve system begins to believe what your soul already knows, that safety isn’t in speed, it’s in presence. That clarity doesn’t shout, it whispers. And that real transformation doesn’t require you to hurry, it invites you to trust.
So when that tidal wave of urgency rises up in your chest, don’t just obey it. Listen to it. Let it speak its fear. Let it tell you what it’s trying to protect. And then decide, from a place of steadiness, whether action is really what’s needed, or whether this is a moment to be still, breathe deeply, and honor the discomfort without rushing through it.
Because the truth is, you are allowed to pause. You are allowed to stay. You are allowed to move forward only when it’s time, not just because fear told you to.
Dr Barbara Eaton
Want to go deeper?
I write more about this in Two Streets Named Hard, especially Chapter 5, where I explore how personal development can feel painfully slow and strangely invisible, even when everything inside you is shifting. You’ll see how to work with your nerve system instead of against it, and why honoring the hidden, uncomfortable parts of growth might be the strongest thing you’ve ever done.
