Apparently, we are sticking with video game analogies this week, which is probably very annoying for some of you - I apologize! The content is still relevant to non-gamers, I promise.

Also - I also cannot believe I wrote last week’s newsletter using a video game theme before starting the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. I am now on book three, thanks to a friend’s recommendation. What can I say, I was on a lot of planes.

As you may recall, last week I was at a conference, doing my networking thing and attending all the breakouts I could fit into my schedule. One session I attended was about communicating with more confidence (we love this) AND which came with an actual paper handout. A paper handout!

Naturally, I was thrilled.

My favourite section was titled “hedge word warning lights.” These are words like should, might, hopefully, try and look into.

There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these words. But if you start using them repeatedly, they can be a small signal that you’re feeling unsure, starting to lose your message, or need to regroup before providing more information.

Which got me thinking about the other warning lights we have.

Not the ones that show up in our work or our language, but the ones that tell us we are reaching the edge of our personal capacity.

Mine is stuttering.

I do not normally stutter, but when I am overstimulated or have spent too long in a crowded environment, I start tripping over my words. I will be trying to have a completely normal conversation, but suddenly I cannot get a sentence out cleanly.

For me, that is the flashing red bar in the corner of the screen.

It does not mean that anything is terribly wrong. It just means I have had enough input and need to step away.

I might finish the conversation and go back to my room. I might find a quiet corner, take a short walk or decide I am done for the day.

Sometimes I only need 20 minutes, to get some fresh air, or to some water and a snack, but it does mean I need to take a break.

I think many of us are fairly good at recognizing complete exhaustion.

The problem is that complete exhaustion is a very late-stage notification.

By then, we are no longer receiving a polite warning. The system has crashed, the screen has gone black and someone is wondering why we are suddenly furious that a restaurant is out of sparkling water.

The smaller signals are easier to dismiss.

Maybe you start losing words. Maybe you become unusually impatient. Maybe noises feel louder, decisions feel harder or you stop absorbing what people are saying.

None of these automatically means you need to cancel everything and go to bed.

They might simply mean that something needs to change before you keep going.

Think about the last few times you became completely exhausted, overwhelmed or talked out.

What happened just before that?

Was there a physical sensation, a change in your speech or a shift in your mood?

Then complete this sentence:

Your response does not need to be dramatic. It might be drinking water, sitting alone for ten minutes, putting in earplugs, getting something to eat or leaving an event slightly earlier than planned.

The goal is not to eliminate every moment of exhaustion. It is simply to notice the flashing light while you still have enough health left to do something about it.

You do not need to wait until the bar reaches zero.