Strong People Don’t Wing It. They Build Structure

When your system is unpredictable, structure keeps you standing.

Original Roman amphitheatre column arch bricks under Naples by Sabrina Ahmed (Author)

You’ve already proven you can handle more.

But what if real strength isn’t about taking on more.

Maybe it's about knowing when to stop carrying what was never yours.

That’s the hard truth I’ve had to relearn recently.

Last month, I was diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS).

It's a connective tissue disorder that affects everything from joints to digestion.

I'm still going through consultations, and likely to have other co-morbid conditions identified.

Fun.

But it finally explained years of “weird” symptoms I’ve been managing on the side while working full-time, building a business, staying vaguely functional.

The chronic fatigue, overstimulation, gut issues, joint pain and injuries, brain fog…

It wasn’t just stress.

It wasn’t all trauma.

It wasn’t just in my head.

It's a real genetic issue I've been blindly existing with, and beating myself up over.

And the brutally honest moment?

Even with all my tools, systems, and strategies, I still sometimes default to winging it.

Because it used to work.

Until it didn’t.

The myth: “I’m strong because I can handle anything.”

The reality: Your brain will keep choosing familiar survival habits over smarter ones until you interrupt the script.

In Napoli last weekend, I wanted to rest.

I felt like I had to.

It was a holiday after all.

I planned to decompress.

Soak up the sea air.

The hustle bustle city vibes.

Let my body exhale and let go.

But the truth?

I didn’t pace myself enough.

I tried to make the most of it - see all the things, do all the things, and drive myself to feel better.

But on return to a hectic day job and two clock changes, my body was wiped out.

I’d left the pressure behind, but not the pattern.

And I'm still processing this new diagnosis, and feeling sad for the expectations I'd put on myself throughout life.

And that’s when it really landed:

• Even beautiful places can’t compensate for the lack of structure, and being true to yourself, when your baseline is unpredictable.

What structure actually gives you

Structure isn’t about being rigid.

It’s not about spreadsheets or self-optimisation for its own sake.

Structure is a nervous system safety net.

It’s the rhythm that keeps you from swinging between “yay, I’m on fire with ideas” and “damn, I can’t get off the sofa.”

I hadn't fully established what structure on holidays looked like, since it had been seven years since my last overseas trip.

I realised the cost of winging it.

For me, it now looks like:

• Planning around energy windows, not just calendar slots.

• Using tools like my Life Admin Table to stop juggling everything in my head.

• Having routines that give me clarity even when my brain is foggy.

• Building in decision buffers so I don’t over-commit just to please.

• Being honest with myself and my needs vs distracted by how my choices look to others.

Because when your body, brain, or life throws curveballs, you need more than motivation.

You need something to hold you, in all situations you'll encounter.

You need to put your real needs first with a strong foundation, and build up from there.

This isn’t about chronic illness. It’s about honest limits.

Last Friday, in a work meeting, I finally pushed back.

I named what wasn’t sustainable.

I didn’t over-explain.

I didn’t apologise.

And wow, did it ruffle feathers.

That moment used to send me spiralling.

It's still lingering in the back of my mind a bit:

• “Was I too direct?”

• “Should I have been more flexible?”

• “Maybe I should just do it anyway…”

• “Will I lose support to teach me a lesson?“

But here’s what I know:

• Self-sabotage often hides under the label of ‘being helpful’.

We over-give, over-function, and override our needs, because guilt is easier to tolerate than disappointing someone else.

We do anything to reduce the emotional and physical discomfort of change, and new boundaries.

Not just with others, but with ourselves too.

That’s not strength.

That’s conditioning.

And it’s exhausting.

What if strength felt different?

Strength isn’t about absorbing more.

It’s about designing your days so you don’t have to.

It’s the quiet kind:

• The checklist that saves you from last-minute panic.

• The boundary you hold even when someone doesn’t like it.

• The early bedtime you choose instead of another doomscroll or Netflix binge.

• The walk you take before your body screams for it.

• The no you say to yourself before habits you'll regret afterwards.

It’s structure and self-regulation, not self-sacrifice.

And it’s what stops you crashing, quitting, or losing your edge.

It's finally giving yourself permission to be imperfect.

But also holding yourself accountable compassionately.

Because you know you can do better.

So, what is strength, really?

For me, it’s not about pushing through blindly anymore (‘because I should’), but about protecting what matters.

Here are the pillars I consider:

1. Physical strength is working with your body, building discomfort tolerance without tipping into depletion.

2. Psychological strength is creating stability when your inner world feels chaotic.

3. Cognitive strength is clearing the clutter so your decisions don’t drain you.

4. Behavioural strength is building rhythms and rituals that hold you when motivation fades.

5. Relational strength is about letting others see your needs before you crash.

This week, strength looked like cancelling plans I wanted to keep, because my system wasn’t ready to carry them.

It looked like going to bed embarassingly early instead of pushing through.

It looked like staying with the guilt of boundaries, instead of giving in to it.

And it didn’t look perfect.

But it was consistent enough.

Because strength isn’t about blindly sticking to a rigid routine, but adjusting with awareness and intention.

That’s the heart of adaptive resilience:

• Knowing when to hold your rhythm, and when to flex without losing yourself.

Reflective prompt:

If any of that sounds familiar, here’s your reflection:

• Where are you still proving you're strong by carrying too much, and what’s one structure (just one) that could carry you instead?

Key takeaways

Structure and strength doesn't have to be rigid.

Instead, it's the rhythm your nervous system can rely on.

Over-functioning might feel like strength, but it’s often a survival script in disguise.

One that no longer serves you.

Even rest isn't restorative if you’re still operating on unsustainable patterns.

True strength isn’t about absorbing more, but about choosing what to carry, and how.

Do yourself, and those around you, a favour.

Choose a new, adaptive, and more fulfilled way forward to build your strength.

You've worked hard enough already.

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P.S. If you’re curious about how I'm updating how I track energy, priorities, and mental bandwidth without turning it into another job, I’ll be sharing my Life Admin Table and other rhythm prompts system this month.

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