One More Change? Bless Your Heart.

Change isn't exhausting because people dislike it. It's exhausting because their nervous systems haven't had a chance to recover from the last five changes.

Have you ever had one of those days where one more email, one more phone call, or one more unexpected problem feels like it might send you over the edge?

It usually isn't about that last thing. It's about everything your nervous system has been carrying before it.

There was a season of my life when I was constantly waiting for the next emergency. At work, I was in a leadership role that required me to be available around the clock. My phone rarely stayed quiet for long, and every text message, late-night email, or unexpected phone call had the potential to change the course of my day. Even when nothing was happening, I found myself anticipating that something would. Looking back, I wasn't just managing a demanding job. I was training my nervous system to expect crisis.

At home, life was even more uncertain. When Hailey first became sick, we had no idea what was happening. She would have episodes that seemed to come out of nowhere, and every one of them was frightening. We didn't know what was normal, what was dangerous, or what we might be missing. Like any parent, we weren't willing to gamble with our child's health, so our answer was almost always the same: we went to the emergency room.

Again. And again. It wasn't because we were overreacting. It was because we didn't have enough information to know what else to do.

When uncertainty fills in the blanks, fear has a funny way of grabbing the Sharpie.

For months, and eventually years, my body lived in a constant state of readiness. My shoulders were tight. I startled every time my phone rang. I had trouble relaxing because some part of me was always waiting for the next problem to solve. I kept telling myself I was handling it, and in many ways I was. I was showing up every day, taking care of my responsibilities, and doing what needed to be done.

But surviving isn't the same as feeling safe.

It wasn't until much later that I understood what had happened. My nervous system had become so accustomed to uncertainty that it stopped distinguishing between a true emergency and an ordinary interruption. Everything felt urgent because my body had learned that uncertainty often led to something difficult.

One of the remarkable things about our nervous system is that it's always scanning for safety. Before our thinking brain has had time to sort through the facts, our body has already started asking, "Are we okay?"

Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes the answer is, "I'm not sure." And when you've lived through enough uncertainty, "I'm not sure" starts feeling an awful lot like danger. That isn't weakness. It's biology.

The problem is that when we stay in that heightened state for too long, our capacity begins to shrink. Things that normally wouldn't bother us suddenly feel enormous because our nervous system has been carrying too much for too long.

That's why I think we've been talking about change fatigue all wrong. Leaders often tell me, "Our employees just can't handle one more change." I don't think that's true.

I think people can handle remarkable amounts of change. What they can't handle is never having a chance to recover before the next wave hits. Organizations don't become saturated. People's nervous systems do.

After enough reorganizations, leadership changes, technology implementations, budget cuts, shifting priorities, and "strategic pivots," employees begin anticipating disruption before it even arrives. The newest announcement isn't creating all the stress. It's simply landing on top of everything that came before it.

Then leaders wonder why the room gets quiet. Or why people stop asking questions. Or why no one seems excited about the next "transformational initiative."

Bless your heart. It isn't because your people suddenly became resistant. It's because their nervous systems have been collecting receipts for months. Maybe years.

I've stopped asking, "Why are people resisting?"

Instead, I ask, "How much capacity do they have left?"

Those are very different questions.

Over time, something changed for our family. We didn't eliminate uncertainty, but we learned how to navigate it differently. We developed a process. Instead of assuming every symptom meant the worst, we learned what information mattered. We checked Hailey's vital signs. We looked for patterns. We built strong relationships with her physicians. Routine blood work became part of our decision-making. We learned which symptoms required immediate action and which ones could safely be monitored at home.

We replaced assumptions with information. That didn't make uncertainty disappear. It simply gave us a way to move through it without surrendering to fear every single time.

I've realized that's true in leadership, too. You can't eliminate uncertainty during transformation. You can create clarity. You can build trust. You can communicate honestly. You can give people a process instead of asking them to simply "be more resilient."

That's one of the reasons I wrote The People Stack. Sustainable change isn't built by asking people to work harder or adapt faster. It's built by increasing clarity, creating alignment, building capability, strengthening belief, and reinforcing change until people regain the confidence and capacity to move forward.

Today, when I notice that familiar tightness in my chest or the feeling that everything suddenly seems urgent, I don't immediately react. Experience has taught me to pause. I ask myself whether I'm reacting to what's happening right now or to everything my nervous system has been carrying for the past few weeks. I ask whether I have enough information to make a good decision or whether I need to gather more before I act.

That pause is where discernment lives. I used to think wisdom meant having all the answers. Now I think wisdom is knowing which questions to ask before you answer.

Looking back, I realize we weren't just learning how to care for Hailey. We were teaching our nervous systems that uncertainty didn't always mean danger. Maybe that's what resilience really is.

Not pretending life isn't hard. Not pretending change doesn't affect us. But learning that we don't have to brace for impact every time something unexpected happens.

BGPD Rule

If one more change, one more email, or one more unexpected problem feels like it might send you over the edge, don't blame the last straw. Your nervous system may simply be telling you it's been carrying too much for too long. Whether you're leading your family or leading an organization, resilience isn't about eliminating uncertainty. It's about creating enough clarity, trust, and process that people no longer feel like they're living in a constant state of "what's next?"

Julie Ann Whitten is a change advisor, keynote speaker, and the author of The People Stack: Why Change Fails (and What Actually Fixes It), available now on Amazon. Drawing on more than 25 years of experience leading transformation, communications, and organizational change, she helps leaders understand the human side of adoption and build the trust required to make change stick.