There’s a particular kind of confession I’ve been hearing lately.

Funny enough, it usually comes with a laugh.

“I closed three deals last month and felt nothing.”

Then, after a second: “That’s the part that scared me.”

Not, “I’m exhausted.” Not, “Get me out of here before I throw my laptop through a window.” Something quieter.

Business is fine. The numbers are fine. You’re doing what you’re supposed to be doing. Other people might even look at you and think, “She’s killing it.”

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there thinking, Shouldn’t I feel something about this?

If you recognize that, there’s a phrase I think is worth knowing.

Somebody finally gave it a name

It’s called quiet cracking. A training research group put a name to it last year, and once I read it I couldn’t unsee it.

It isn’t quitting. It isn’t even quiet quitting, which at least has a little attitude behind it. It’s quieter than that.

You keep showing up. You answer the emails. You take the listing. You handle the problem nobody else wants to handle. You do good work. And somewhere along the way, you may notice that you’ve stopped feeling much about any of it.

That’s one reason I wanted to write about this. Sometimes having language for something gives us a place to start looking at it.

Maybe we’ve been calling everything burnout

Here’s the distinction that got my attention:

Burnout is running out of fuel. Quiet cracking is running out of reasons.

If we’re exhausted, rest makes sense. Take the vacation. Sleep late. Turn off the phone. Let somebody else figure out dinner for once. I am extremely pro somebody-else-figuring-out-dinner.

But what happens when we take the time off, come back rested, and Tuesday still feels exactly as flat as the Tuesday before we left?

That’s when some of us start blaming ourselves.

What is wrong with me? I got the break. I should feel better. Maybe the rest wasn’t a bad idea at all. Maybe it was answering a different question.

The part about high-performing women

I think a lot of us know how to care deeply and keep going.

We can be remarkably good at carrying the thing, solving the thing, remembering the thing, and making sure nobody else even knows there was a thing. It’s a useful skill. Until it isn’t.

If we stay deeply invested while becoming more and more depleted, something may eventually start to give. And sometimes it isn’t our performance.

It may be our connection to why we cared so much in the first place.

Nobody notices because you’re still getting it done

This may be the sneakiest part. Your output can look perfectly normal.

You’re still the one people call. The listings still get taken. The follow-ups still go out. Clients still get the capable, prepared version of you who knows what she’s doing.

So why would anybody ask if something’s wrong? Heck, why would you?

We’re taught to notice trouble when something falls apart. We’re not nearly as good at noticing when everything keeps working but we somehow stop being present for our own lives.

I’ve had seasons when I was checking every box and still had to ask myself, Okay, Rosemary. Where exactly are YOU in all of this?

That’s a different conversation. Sometimes it’s the one we need.

So what do we do with this?

I don’t think the answer is to immediately blow up your career, sell the house, and move to Costa Rica. Although if you’re reading this from a beach in Costa Rica, please know I’m a little jealous.

I’d start much smaller.

If quiet cracking has something to do with losing our connection to meaning, growth, and possibility, maybe we begin by looking for little signs of life again. No five-year plan. No 47-step Reinvention Extravaganza. Just somewhere to begin.

1. Tell one person the truth

Maybe it’s as simple as: “I’m doing fine on paper, but I really haven’t felt like myself lately.” Then stop.

We don’t have to explain it beautifully. We don’t have to make the other person comfortable. And we definitely don’t have to slap a joke on the end so nobody worries about us.

I say that knowing full well how tempting the joke is. Sometimes saying the real sentence out loud helps us hear ourselves again.

2. Look for the part you’d still do for free

There may be some small piece of your work that still gets your attention.Helping the nervous first-time buyer. Mentoring the new agent. Solving the impossible problem. Teaching. Creating. Connecting people.

What’s yours? I wouldn’t turn it into another assignment. Just notice it. Then see whether you can give that part of yourself an extra hour this week.

3. Learn something because you want to know it

Take the class. Read the book. Learn the ridiculous thing you’ve been curious about that has absolutely no relationship to your quarterly numbers. We need places where we’re still becoming.

Maybe growth has been missing from the room. Let’s invite it back in and see what happens.

A 30-second check-in

Think back over the last week. Find one moment when you felt something. Interest. Irritation. Relief. Satisfaction. Curiosity. Maybe somebody made you laugh so hard you snorted, which absolutely counts.

Don’t analyze it. Just find it. Because maybe the question isn’t, “What’s wrong with me?”vMaybe a better question is: “What still makes me come alive, even a little?”

That’s a question I’m willing to keep asking in my own life too.

We’re all going to have flat stretches. We’re going to outgrow things that once fit us perfectly. We’re going to get tired, get bored, lose our way, find it again, and occasionally need somebody who loves us to point out that we have been complaining about the same thing for eleven months.

That’s life.

If you’ve been quietly wondering about your own flat stretch, maybe having language for it gives you somewhere new to look.

The Power breathing you is greater than any circumstance, situation, or condition. I believe that.

I also believe sometimes we need a good friend to slide the coffee across the table and ask us the question we’ve been avoiding.

If this hit a nerve

If you recognized a little of yourself here and you’d like somebody to sit on your side of the table with you, I’d love to talk.

I offer a free discovery session where we can look at what’s been going on, what you want your life and work to feel like again, and what one honest next step might be.

No need to have it figured out before we talk. That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?

With love,
Rosemary Gibson