Why Do I Get Overwhelmed by "Normal" Stress?

Why do I freak out when it's NOT a big deal! Everyone else is fine and over here just losing my shit!

Today’s question is such a good one: "Why do I get overwhelmed by normal stress?"

TLDR

If you find yourself overwhelmed by things that “shouldn’t” be a big deal, this post explains why. It’s not about the size of the stressor — it’s about the state of your nervous system when the stressor hits. Using a plant metaphor 🌿 and a painfully relatable ham sandwich moment, we explore how chronic stress narrows your capacity, and why self-judgment only makes it worse.

Keep reading if you’re ready for some real talk, some nervous system wisdom, and a whole lot more compassion for what you’re carrying.

Want a deeper dive? Listen to the podcast! 👇

I love this question. Let’s just talk about what that really looks like, because this question usually doesn’t even surface until someone feels like they’re at their wit’s end. Most people don’t even feel safe bringing this question out into the open. For so many people, it stays tucked away as a private, internal experience — something they quietly wonder about but don’t feel safe to ask aloud.

Even though this is a one-sided conversation — it’s just me here talking to you — I want to show up as a stand-in for that supportive person you might not have. I want to validate you. I want to take this question — this very real, very human question — and bring it out of your inner landscape, into the light.

Because this is a valid question. This is a real experience. And most importantly — it’s common.

It’s not something that just you are experiencing. It’s not something that’s wrong with you.

In fact, even asking this question often carries a layer of shame, doesn’t it? Especially that tricky word: “normal.”"If this is normal stress, why can’t I handle it? If I were normal, this wouldn’t even be a problem for me."

Right here, right now — that’s what we’re going to gently challenge. We’re going to break this question down, peel back some layers, and explore this from a nervous system perspective — why your reactions might feel so different than other people’s… and why it feels like "normal" stress tips you into overwhelm.

We’ll start at the surface and go deeper as we go, so by the end of this post, I hope you’ll have a much richer context for what you’re experiencing — and maybe a little more compassion for yourself along the way.

Understanding Your Nervous System: The Plant Caretaker Metaphor

Let’s back up and talk nervous system basics.

Your nervous system isn’t just some abstract biological system — it’s your body’s very personal, very intricate safety system. For many of us, it has been shaped by chronic stress, trauma, or unsupported experiences, especially from childhood.

Your nervous system is this vast network: brain, brainstem, spinal column, and all the peripheral nerves running throughout your body. And it really has one job: to keep you alive long enough to procreate.

It’s not interested in your happiness, fulfillment, or productivity — just your survival.

Here’s where I want you to imagine your body like the caretaker of a particularly fussy house plant.

• If you see wilting leaves, the plant needs water.

• Yellowing leaves? Maybe too much water.

• Weak stems? Adjust the lighting.

You’re constantly scanning for signals about what this plant needs to thrive.

Your nervous system does this too — except on an infinitely more sophisticated level. It’s always tallying up indicators of safety and danger to determine if you’re okay.

When you’re “inside the window” (sometimes called window of capacity or window of tolerance), your system reads enough safety cues to say, “I’m okay right now.” Even if stress is present, you can tolerate it and stay connected, creative, capable.

But when that ratio tips — when there are more danger cues than safety cues — your nervous system mobilizes to protect you.

And this happens automatically, far below conscious awareness.Your nervous system isn’t asking for permission. It’s just doing its job.

Inside vs Outside the Window of Capacity

So what does this really look like?

When you’re inside your window of capacity, your nervous system says, "Yes, this is hard… but I’ve got this." You can stay connected, reflective, creative, compassionate — even in moments of challenge.

You might:

• Sit with a friend by a lake and feel at ease

• Argue with your partner but still track your breath, stay grounded, and hear what they’re saying

But when you start to slide toward the edge of that window — or fall outside it altogether — it feels different.

In an argument:

• Your shoulders tighten

• Your fists clench

• You lean forward aggressively

• Your heart pounds

• Your mind fogs up

• You stop listening and just want to win

At that point, your nervous system has taken the wheel. The collaborative, empathic, flexible part of you is offline.

You’re in survival mode.

And here’s where that plant metaphor comes back in — just like a wilting plant, your nervous system is signaling: "I need help right now." It might need a break, grounding, distance, breath… but it needs something to shift the conditions, not just the thought "calm down."

The Chronic Stress Baseline + My "Ham Sandwich" Moment

Here’s the thing: your nervous system doesn’t start each day from a blank slate.

Many people, especially trauma survivors, wake up each morning with a narrowed window of capacity and an elevated baseline stress level. Your nervous system’s "tally system" might already have a long list of danger cues before you even pour your coffee.

So a stressful event — like your neighbor complaining about your lawn — isn’t just a new stressor. It’s tipping a system that’s already dangerously close to overwhelm.

And this brings me to one of my favorite humbling stories — my infamous ham sandwich moment.

Sixteen years ago, I was dating my now-husband. I was working at a newspaper, overwhelmed, stressed, and deeply disconnected from my own trauma history.

One day he offers to bring me lunch — a sweet, caring gesture. But I didn’t see his texts, so he guesses and brings me back a ham sandwich.

I hated that sandwich.

And what did I do? I pouted. I sulked. I was visibly irritated and ungrateful. I ruined what should have been a lovely moment between us.

Even in that moment, I knew my reaction was disproportionate. I could hear my own inner voice saying, "Jess… it’s just a sandwich." But my body didn’t care.

Why?

Because my nervous system was already maxed out.I was living in a body flooded with danger tallies: chronic pain, chronic anxiety, chronic fatigue… almost no cues of safety.

And afterward? The shame spiral kicked in hard. That internal narrative: "What a bitch. What’s wrong with me? He was trying to do something nice and you ruined it."

But here’s what I understand now that I couldn’t understand back then:

My nervous system was already maxed out before that sandwich even entered the breakroom.

At that point in my life, I was running on almost zero cues of safety in my body. My baseline was flooded with danger tallies. Chronic anxiety, chronic pain, chronic fatigue, regular panic attacks… I was walking around in a body that was already outside its window of capacity all. the. time.

So this wasn’t about the sandwich. It wasn’t about whether I liked ham. It was that the small additional stress of having to navigate this awkward social moment that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

If I had been in a regulated state — if my nervous system had been filled with cues of safety — it would have been no big deal. I could have laughed it off, picked out the ham, or suggested we go grab something else together.

But instead, my system couldn’t bridge the gap. There just weren’t enough safety tallies to keep me inside my window. And so I tipped over into overwhelm — not because I was ungrateful or selfish or dramatic, but because my nervous system genuinely didn’t have the capacity to handle even that small social stressor.

This is the critical distinction I want you to hear today:

It’s not about the size of the stressor itself.

It’s about the state of the system that the stressor arrives into.

I'm going to say that again. Please hear me.

It’s not about the size of the stressor itself.

It’s about the state of the system that the stressor arrives into.

When you’re already running close to the edge — when your baseline is saturated with danger cues — even something tiny can feel like too much. Because it is.

So when you catch yourself judging your own overwhelm — when you hear that inner voice whispering "What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I handle this? Why am I such an asshole" — I want you to pause and ask a different question:

"Where was my baseline before this even happened?"

Because that’s where the real story is.

🔔 The takeaway:

It’s not about the size of the stressor — it’s about the state of your nervous system when the stressor arrives.

The "Normal Stress" Myth and Cultural Expectations

Now let’s zoom out.

This question — "Why do I get overwhelmed by normal stress?" — assumes that what we’re calling "normal" is actually reasonable.

But is it?

We live in a world where:

• Workplaces expect you to perform the same after loss or grief

• Single parents juggle impossible demands and are still expected to show up polished and pleasant

• Entrepreneurs scroll feeds filled with people who seem to "do it all" effortlessly

This is the culture of treating humans like machines:"Grind now, rest later.""Be efficient, don’t let life slow you down.""Your feelings don’t belong at work."

And when we internalize this, we blame ourselves for feeling overwhelmed. But here’s the truth:This isn’t a problem with you.This is a problem with what we’ve been conditioned to accept as "normal."

Grief is not something that fits into three bereavement days. Burnout isn’t fixed by a bubble bath. Chronic stress can’t be overcome with willpower. Overwhelm has become normalized — and then we shame ourselves for responding appropriately to an overwhelming culture.

Two Core Takeaways for You

Let’s anchor this all together.

1️⃣ First takeaway: Your nervous system may already be starting from a place of depletion and danger before stress even arrives.

Even small things can feel overwhelming when you’re already carrying that baseline stress.So the work isn’t about "fixing" yourself — it’s about tending your baseline: watering your plant, learning your nervous system’s language, gently cultivating cues of safety.

2️⃣ Second takeaway: What we call "normal" stress often isn’t normal — it’s just common.

So part of your healing might mean reframing the question:"Is this even a fair thing for any human to handle alone?"

Sometimes the path isn’t about resilience — it’s about recognizing that you’re living in a culture that asks too much and honoring your nervous system’s wisdom for saying, "No more."

Your overwhelm is not a character defect. You’re not broken. You’re human.

And just because this has been your experience so far doesn’t mean it has to stay this way.This wisdom inside you is trying to guide you back to places of safety, where you can navigate life’s stressors without losing yourself.

You don’t have to navigate that alone.

Thank you for reading. Take care of yourself, tend your baseline, and I’ll see you soon.