Your day can feel like a room with too many alarms. One message lands, then another, and suddenly your chest feels tight. Your thoughts sprint ahead. Even when you sit still, your body acts like it has somewhere to run.
Night has a way of turning the volume up. The room is quiet, yet your mind keeps moving. Your body feels heavy, but your chest stays tight. Thoughts stack like dishes in the sink, and sleep starts to feel like something you have to "earn."
For startup founders, a typical day can feel like carrying water in your hands. One Slack ping and it spills. One surprise invoice and it’s gone. You can have the best to-do list in the world and still end the day drained, because productivity isn’t only about doing more, it’s about having enough steady attention to do the right things.
It’s 2:13 a.m. You’re tired, but your mind won’t dim. Your shoulders are up near your ears, your jaw feels like it’s been clenched all day, and the smallest sound in the house makes you tense.
If your distance running fitness had a ceiling, VO2 max (maximal oxygen uptake) is part of what holds it up. It’s the “engine size” behind how much oxygen your body can use when the pace gets serious. Improve it, and the same loop around your neighborhood can feel smoother, quieter, less like a fight.
Your 2026 probably sounds like this: a notification ping, a half-finished to-do list, a calendar that books itself, and a mind that keeps talking long after your body wants to rest. When life gets loud, journaling can be a small pause that helps you feel what you feel, without trying to fix it on the spot.
Your morning starts with one “quick” check of your phone, then it’s messages, errands, calendar pings, bank alerts, and a brain that already feels full. By lunch, you’ve made a hundred tiny decisions and still haven’t had a real pause.
Your 2026 probably sounds like this: a notification ping, a half-finished to-do list, a calendar that books itself, and a mind that keeps talking long after your body wants to rest. When life gets loud, journaling can be a small pause that helps you feel what you feel, without trying to fix it on the spot.
Stress doesn’t always show up as a big, obvious crisis. Sometimes it’s quieter. A tight chest in the morning. A jaw you can’t unclench. A brain that keeps spinning even when your body is tired. And when the noise inside gets loud, it’s easy to reach for the fastest distraction: scrolling, snacking, staying busy.
Stress has a way of turning the volume up without asking. One tense email, one bad night of sleep, one more scroll that turns into forty minutes, and your day starts to feel like it’s happening to you.
Your chest tightens. Your thoughts sprint ahead. You’re holding your phone, scrolling with one thumb, hoping the next post will quiet the noise in your body.
I didn’t begin building Pausa because I had a perfect morning routine. I started it because I had a panic attack after losing my pet, and for a few minutes my body convinced me I was in real danger.
If high effort makes you feel like you can’t get enough air, you’re not weak, you’re human. VO2 max breathing exercises won’t magically turn a tough interval into a stroll, but they can make hard work feel more controlled, less panicky, and easier to repeat.
The holidays can feel like a room with every light on. Group chats buzz, carts fill, ovens run, and somehow you’re also supposed to be cheerful. Old traditions can turn into a performance, and the pressure to repeat them “the right way” can land right in your body as a tight chest, a clenched jaw, or racing thoughts.
Your phone lights up, again. A half-finished thought bumps into the next one. Your chest feels a little tight, not enough to panic, just enough to notice. You sit down to rest and your brain keeps walking.