Are you relieved? Or disappointed?
Today’s newsletter isn’t coming. Not the full version, anyway.
I’ve been sick all week. The gym, my dance class, a weekend with my family — all cancelled. And yes, there was sadness. But underneath it, a great exhale. A childish joy of a week with nowhere to be. Like a holiday I had to pay for with a fever.
What did you feel, just now, reading that?
A quiet exhale — one less thing demanding your attention? Or a small pang of disappointment, a subtle sense of something missing?
Because we live in a world of relentless content. Inboxes that never empty. Newsletters, podcasts, posts, threads — all asking for a piece of your attention. At some point, even the things we genuinely love can begin to feel like obligations. Another thing to consume. Another thing to stay on top of.
So when something is cancelled, the relief can be real — and completely innocent. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. It means you are human, and you are tired.
Because it’s almost always both. Relief and disappointment, arriving together — two truths that refuse to cancel each other out.
When a client cancels, there’s lost income — and suddenly, unexpected time. When a plan falls away, there’s the ache of missing someone — and sometimes, if you’re honest, the joy of more time with yourself. The admission that you needed the pause more than the connection — or even the money.
We rarely dare to cancel ourselves. We push through, show up, tell ourselves we can’t let people down. But when the cancellation comes from outside — and the first thing you feel is relief — that is your body saying what your mind wasn’t ready to admit.
The direction you lean says something. About the value of what was cancelled. And about the state you’re actually in.
Three questions:
- When something gets cancelled, what is your first reaction — before the polite version kicks in?
- When you want to cancel, do you secretly hope the other person cancels first?
- What if you don’t wait for your calendar to reveal your exhaustion?
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