Business As Usual: When the World Is Not Fine, But Work Expects You to Be
Author’s note: This piece originally appeared on my Substack, Wellbeing By Tracey, where I explore how workplace culture impacts the nervous system.
One of the strangest parts of modern work is the expectation to keep functioning like everything is fine, even when it does not feel like it is.
We joke as millennials that we’re tired of living through unprecedented times all the time. However, it is not an exaggeration to say, the weight of what we have been asked to hold globally, politically, and personally just keeps amplifying.
Recently, I have become part of a small group of like-minded people who bonded over the collective heaviness of this moment. We meet for walks, coffee, or conversation in a safe space. What I keep noticing is how many of these people are carrying deep emotions and still getting up every day to do their jobs. They are showing up to meetings, clearing inboxes, hitting deadlines, managing teams…all while quietly holding the emotional weight of what is happening in the world.
And I know they’re not alone.
This kind of quiet endurance is something many are navigating. It may not be visible on the surface, but it’s sitting in a lot of nervous systems.
I’ve been wondering how to write about this for a while. I don’t have a five-step plan for how to keep going when everything feels upside down. I don’t have tips for managers trying to boost morale during a collective unraveling. I’m not even sure we should be performing at full capacity right now.
When I look through the lens of burnout and corporate wellness, pretending the world is fine when it’s not comes at a cost. It frazzles our nervous systems. It forces us to disconnect in order to keep functioning.
You may notice it in your own body:
A tight jaw
A racing mind
Muscles bracing
3am wake-ups
Foggy thinking
As Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen writes:
“The expectation that we can be immersed in suffering and loss daily and not be touched by it is as unrealistic as expecting to walk through water without getting wet.”
This is collective trauma. You don’t need to be directly affected to be deeply impacted.
When Acknowledgment Matters
At a past job, I remember how grounding it felt when leadership acknowledged what was happening in the world with real language.
Two moments specifically stand out when the news felt especially heavy and it was strange to be at work like nothing had happened. Internal emails went out that didn’t try to fix or minimize the situation. They simply acknowledged the weight of the moment, offered support resources, and reminded us it was okay to not feel okay. It didn’t solve anything, but it softened the tension between what was happening out there and what was expected in here.
What feels different about our current moment is the frequency of distressing news. For many, tuning out the headlines has become an act of self-preservation and for organizations, the sheer pace of upheaval has created a kind of paralysis.
Oddly enough there is a similar patterns between how individuals respond when our nervous systems are overwhelmed and how companies handle these challenging times:
They freeze — unsure of what to say, so they say nothing.
They fawn — issuing careful, crafted statements to try and please everyone.
They fight — doubling down on business as usual.
Or they flee — avoiding discomfort by focusing on performance, productivity, and goals.
These aren’t necessarily signs of bad leadership. More often, they’re signs of a system in survival mode, doing what it knows how to do to stay intact. We are in a time when not saying anything can feel like compliance with harm. But speaking up comes with its own risks, especially when people hold vastly different views. The stakes feel impossibly high.
To add to the complexity these days, the suffering outside and the expectations inside are harder and harder to separate. These issues are showing up inside the workplace. DEI programs are being cut, layoffs are increasing, colleagues are losing jobs, and many lost the sense of belonging they were told existed.
There’s no clean or easy answer how to navigate this complex tension . Yet we have to remember that organizations are made up of people and people are not machines.
We are human and for many, the whiplash of showing up like everything’s fine while the world is not, takes a real toll.
Our nervous systems feel that split, even when we don’t have the words for it.
What I Would Offer
If I were still managing a wellness program in today’s climate, I wouldn’t be focused on engagement metrics or surface-level perks.
I would be asking: What does it mean to support humans through collective distress?
I would start with mental health care and support. Not a buried EAP link, but accessible, affordable, human-centered support. Since stress doesn’t end at the office door, I’d advocate for programs that include family members too.
I would train managers not just to boost performance, but to recognize signs of distress, read what’s unspoken, and hold space without overstepping. These are leadership skills that build trust, and they’re deeply needed right now.
I would advocate to offer quiet signals of care like creating space within the work week. Blocking off organizations or team calendars for a reoccurring period of time gives employees the space to catch up, focus, breathe, or to just be.
These kinds of shifts don’t demand performance. They meet people with gentleness.
Some days will feel heavier than others. Being attuned to that doesn’t make you a weak leader. It makes you a wise one.
Above all, I’d work to create a culture of kindness. Kindness isn’t political. It’s how we quietly signal, I see you. When kindness is woven into a workplace, people exhale. They stop bracing. They stop tiptoeing. They stop armoring up.
A kind environment invites people to show up as themselves and it is what so many are quietly longing for right now.
Self-care as Rebellion
If you’ve been feeling heavy, distracted, or shut down lately, you are not broken.
You are responding like a human in inhumane times.
One of the hardest parts of functioning in today’s world is when we have to contort ourselves to fit our environments. Professionalism means we are composed, unaffected, and ignore our bodies to get through the work day.
Tending to yourself right now isn’t self-indulgent. It is a quiet act of resistance. A micro-rebellion against a world that would rather have you numb.
Here are some gentle ways to come back to yourself:
Pay attention to your senses. How does your breakfast taste? Feel the sun’s warmth. Take in the colors outside this time of year.
Get in nature. Listen to the birds sing, they only sing when they are safe, so it is a nice reminder to yourself that you are safe too.
Move gently. Walk. Stretch. Rest.
Connect with someone who brings you ease.
Take a pause. Truly disconnect. Check in to feel if you are rushing yourself.
Take a day off to rest without guilt.
None of this will fix the world, but it could help your
body trust that it’s safe enough to be human again.
When we feel safe, we can begin to offer care to others, too.
Self-regulation is not just personal. It’s the first step toward collective care, and bringing about change for a calmer world.
Take good care of yourself,
