Over the years, I’ve lost count of the number of messages I’ve received that say some version of the same thing:

“I’ve had a really productive week – so why can’t I decide where to take the kids for lunch?”

These aren’t people who struggle with responsibility.

They’re not disorganised.

They’re not indecisive by nature.

They’re founders, senior leaders, clinicians, technologists – people who make complex decisions every day. People who carry pressure well. People others rely on.

And yet, when it comes to something apparently simple – food, a short drive, a shower, leaving the house – everything suddenly feels too much.

Nothing is wrong.

And somehow, everything is.

The Stall Between Worlds

What’s striking about these moments is where they occur.

Not during high-stakes meetings.

Not when managing teams or navigating conflict.

Not when solving difficult problems.

They happen in the doorway between things.

At 2pm on a Saturday, children hungry in the back of the car.

Standing in the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge.

Re-reading the same email without typing a word.

Putting off having a shower – not because of the shower itself, but because of what comes after.

High-capacity people don’t usually fall over during big tasks.

They stall at the threshold between them.

Transition Fatigue (The Thing No One Names) 

What’s happening here isn’t laziness or a lack of discipline.

It’s transition fatigue.

Not workload exhaustion – but the cumulative strain of moving between roles, states, and identities without ever fully completing the stress cycle of the one before.

It often shows up when one role ends and another begins without a pause:

• Leaving work and walking straight into family life

• Finishing a charged conversation and heading into the next meeting

• Making a decision – then immediately managing everyone’s reactions to it

• Holding focus all day, then being expected to be emotionally available on demand

Each transition carries its own posture, tone, attentional field, and emotional responsibility. The nervous system doesn’t reset just because the calendar does.

By the time someone reaches a “simple” decision, their system is already holding:

• unresolved activation

• emotional containment

• vigilance for others’ needs

• identity-switching load

• unfinished stress responses

So the system hesitates.

Not because it can’t cope – but because it’s negotiating too much at once.

The Station and the Train

I often think about this as standing on a station platform.

The station is quiet. Stable. Predictable.

The train has arrived – and you know you need to get on.

But once it departs, it won’t stop for hours.

For many people, the hesitation isn’t about the task itself.

It’s about committing to the cascade that follows.

Once you leave the station – once you start – you’re locked into motion:

school run → dinner → homework → emotional regulation → bedtime → clearing up → tomorrow’s prep.

The platform may be uncomfortable.

But it’s still.

And stillness can feel safer than momentum.

The Body Knows First

Often, the earliest signs of transition fatigue aren’t cognitive at all.

They’re somatic.

A tightness between the shoulder blades.

A clenched jaw.

A heaviness in the chest.

That slightly muted feeling before action.

The body is registering accumulated load before the mind catches up.

We know that decision-making degrades under cumulative cognitive and emotional strain – especially when people are holding responsibility for others. Add repeated task-switching, incomplete stress cycles, and emotional labour, and initiation becomes harder, not easier.

Not because capacity is low – but because the system is protecting itself.

Micro-Freezes and Displacement

Once you start noticing this pattern, you see it everywhere.

Tidying the kitchen before writing the email.

Re-opening the same slide deck without touching it.

Scrolling while standing in front of the fridge.

Rearranging instead of beginning.

These aren’t character flaws.

They’re micro-freezes – small pauses at points of transition where the nervous system is quietly asking for orientation.

The problem is that most capable people respond by pushing harder.

More discipline.

More self-criticism.

More willpower.

Which only adds to the load.

Why "Just Start!" Doesn't Work

Advice like “just get on with it” assumes the issue is motivation.

But in these moments, motivation isn’t missing – regulation is.

The system isn’t refusing the task.

It’s hesitating at the threshold.

What’s needed isn’t pressure, but a way to downshift between roles.

To mark the end of one state before entering the next.

To put something down before picking something else up.

Learning to Cross Thresholds

Much of my work sits in this in-between space.

Helping people notice where they’re stalling – not to eliminate it, but to understand it.

Helping them recognise that the pause before dinner, or the delay before leaving the house, isn’t failure.

It’s information.

A sign that something hasn’t been completed, metabolised, or released yet.

When people realise this, something softens.

They stop trying to bully themselves forward.

And start asking a more useful question:

What am I carrying into this moment that hasn’t been put down yet?

A Quiet Truth

As I write this, I’m delaying leaving my desk for the school run.

Not because I don’t want to collect my children – but because I can feel the evening train waiting on the other side of the door.

Once I step onto it, I won’t be back at a quiet platform for hours.

Nothing is wrong.

And still – everything feels like it needs careful handling.

That pause isn’t a problem to fix.

It’s a signal worth listening to.