There are times when I’ve felt my energy spiral. Not suddenly, but slowly, almost quietly. It would slip away while I was still busy doing everything I thought I was “supposed” to do. I wouldn’t even notice until I was fully drained. 

For me, it usually starts with the people I surround myself with. I’m a highly sensitive person, an empath in many ways, so I feel everything. And when I’m around people who only take, who overstep, who don’t check in, who constantly lean on me without offering the same care in return, it begins to wear me down. Slowly at first, but then all at once. I begin to feel untethered, like I’ve lost touch with my own sense of direction. I find myself asking, what am I even working toward? 

I’ve realized one of my modern-day energy drainers is how so many relationships now depend on me starting the conversation. If I don’t reach out, I don’t hear from them. And meanwhile, I could be going through something really heavy, and they’d have no idea because they’ve stopped checking in. That silence is loud. And that one-sided emotional labor takes a toll. I’ve slowly let go of chasing those connections. If someone can’t match my energy or effort, I’ve stopped forcing it. 

At work, a mentor once told me to switch off my notifications. It was a small piece of advice, but surprisingly impactful. I realized how much of my attention (and therefore, my energy) was leaking through those little pings. Constantly being “on” was quietly depleting me. 

I didn’t always recognize the signs. But over time, I’ve come to notice them: overwhelm, emotional exhaustion, irritability, even anxiety. They’re little messengers. Subtle, but powerful. And learning to listen to them has changed everything. 

Sometimes the exhaustion isn’t just from doing too much, it’s from carrying too much we never had space to name. Grief, transitions, identity shifts. Things we tuck away just to keep functioning. 

To really understand my energy, thanks to this expedition, I’ve had to go inward: not just mentally or emotionally, but physically too. I’ve done a lot of reflection around motherness and trauma, and how those themes have shaped the way I hold space for others. What I hadn’t realized until recently is how much of that lives in the body. Our bodies remember. They store stress, tension, burnout, and resilience. Energy isn’t just emotional, it’s physical. When I’m anxious or overwhelmed, I feel it in my shoulders, in my breath, in how quickly I want to check my phone just to not feel. 

Another piece I used to resist was how much my menstrual cycle affects my energy. For the longest time, I didn’t want to give it power over me. I wanted to feel “normal,” to push through, to stay consistent, to not let it “interfere.” But now I see that fighting my body only pulls me further out of sync. I’ve started noticing the natural rhythm of my cycle—how my focus shifts, how my body needs different things at different times. And instead of pushing against it, I’m learning to work  with  it. That shift alone has given me a sense of steadiness and clarity I didn’t know I was missing. It’s like working with a current, not swimming against it. 
 
And it’s worth saying this out loud: women leaders bleed too. We go through mood changes, hormone shifts, different energy levels, and yet the world keeps moving as if we don’t. Leadership doesn’t pause, but we carry on quietly and powerfully. It’s time that reality was acknowledged more openly. 

Honestly, it’s hard to even make space to feel. Life doesn’t really let you. Everything is built to keep us moving: scrolling, working, reacting. Feelings don’t get a lot of space. So listening to my body, slowing down enough to hear what it’s trying to say, has been difficult. It’s not always easy, but it’s necessary. 

On the flip side, I’ve also felt what it’s like when my energy is flowing. When things feel aligned and effortless. One of the clearest moments was during a recent solo work trip. It felt empowering. I was in a new place, by myself, walking for hours, doing things just for me. I didn’t need anyone to walk beside me. And as a woman, especially in today’s world, there’s still this subtle messaging that you shouldn’t travel alone or that you need to be extra cautious. So to be there, to feel confident and self-assured, felt like a kind of freedom. I could hear myself again. I felt steady. 

What I’ve come to understand is that confidence is deeply linked to energy. When I’m confident, the flow returns. What blocks it, more than anything, is anticipation, anxiety—sitting with small things for too long, overthinking them. But once I move through them, once I actually do the thing, I usually realize it was simpler than I thought. 
 
I used to equate energy with output. But now I know: resting, pausing, saying no, that’s a different kind of productivity. One that sustains me longer. 

Now, I’m learning to stay close to my body. To notice the subtle shifts. To take breaks without guilt. To create a space where no one needs anything from me. That space is sacred. It’s where I come back to myself. 

At the end of the day, protecting your energy is a process. Sometimes clumsy, sometimes clear. But it’s also where your strength lives. So if you’ve been feeling off, or tired, or disconnected, maybe just pause. Breathe. Check in with your body. And ask gently: What do I need to come back to myself? 
 
If you’re tired, it doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. And you deserve spaces where your energy matters too. 

About the Author

Megna Rajagopal is a Clean Energy Market Research Analyst II at Solarabic DMCC. She is an explorer on the WE expedition for Women Leading in Renewable Energy. Megna is passionate about gender equity and advocates for a more inclusive future.Â