In my leadership consulting work last week, I asked a small group, “When was the last time you felt happy and in flow at work?”
Flow can be defined as that state of being “in the zone” — losing track of time, working with ease, syncing with a collaborator, or entering a hypnotic rhythm of deep productivity. It’s rare these days to find an afternoon free of distractions, media, or human disruptors. But when it happens, we remember it.
Themes emerged for each person’s flow state—starting something new, relationship-building. One colleague couldn’t even recall a time she felt creatively at ease.
For me, flow arrived at the start of a corporate merger. I’d landed in a new city with a fresh blazer and a crisp notebook tucked in my laptop case. The sharp smells of the acquired firm jolted my nerves awake. Everyone was on alert — ready to work late, eat takeout, and gather in sad hotel lobby bars to solve the biggest puzzle of our careers.
Frustrations came, but we passed them like a baton in a relay — giving them to the teammate with the right expertise. It was intense. But we were in it.
If I had asked the same team last week when they felt out of flow, the room would’ve erupted in a flurry of stories. We all carry stories of bad managers, poor firm decisions, or the time we simply couldn’t get traction. But how often do we really examine what it would take to get back into alignment?
Extended time out of rhythm affects our minds and our nervous systems. The absence of motivation is more than the occasional slump— it’s often our body’s way of signaling depletion. Motivation returns after we’ve reconnected with something that lights us up. But it takes time.
I’ve had long stretches of flow in my life. But over the past two years, I entered a steady state of disappointment. A cascade of health issues pulled my focus into survival mode: doctor appointments, tests, insurance fights. Uncharted territory. I had no energy left for clients, creative projects, or book research.
I flatlined.
The number one cause of lack of motivation (not to be confused with Depression) is Burnout. And I don’t know a single woman (or man) right now who isn’t carrying some version of it — from job searches, kids’ schedules, household logistics, or complex family dynamics.
Procrastinating everything (from terrifying calls to small tasks like school forms)
Inability to start anything — work, personal projects, even fun plans
Abandoning projects halfway through (my laundry is always half folded)
Avoiding or canceling commitments
A sluggish mood or behaviors that feel unlike you
If you want to find your way back to flow and motivation, you need to shift from a place of darkness to a self-defined version of success.
Find your purpose in this moment.
At the start of 2025, my only purpose was to get out of bed without pain, and to connect with three people a week — via text, phone, or Voxer. That was enough.
Today, I’m realigning my offerings to help others reconnect to their soul’s work.
Define balance — STAT.
Like Clooney on ER, we need triage. Balance doesn’t have to mean symmetry every week — instead, zoom out. Look at a full month or even a season.
Do you have moments of introversion, extroversion, rest, play, and work in your broader calendar?
Sleep on decisions.
For many of us (myself included), this isn’t easy. But dream space can act as a natural mental pause. Don’t say yes out of pressure. A “no” up front is kinder than a cancel later. Saying no early is one of the biggest antidotes to burnout.
Set your own pace.
You don’t have to match the speed of anyone else’s recovery, energy, or career moves. Set your tempo — even if it feels slower than you’d like. Forward is still forward.
Make one micro-move.
Reach out to someone you admire. Try one small creative task. Say yes to a walk alone with no airpods, just birds chirping. Break the inertia with a manageable, meaningful action — not a productivity sprint.
Motivation needs the Muck.
We don’t talk enough about the “muck” — the in-between zone (the &) where we’re no longer who we were, but not yet where we’re going. But this space holds power. It’s the birthplace of the next version of ourselves — and we don’t have to rush through it to make it count.
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