When You Feel Like You Have Lizard Eyes

The other day, someone very dear to me called and asked, “Barbie, can you be my therapist?”

Now, both of us knew I couldn’t take on that role for them. But what followed was an honest conversation that I think so many of us can relate to.

They began describing what they were feeling:
“I can’t think. I can’t focus. Nothing is sinking in. I feel like my eyes are moving in opposite directions, like a lizard.”

I paused, took a breath, and said, “That sounds like burnout.”

As it turns out, this person, along with many of their fellow first-year law students, were carrying the weight of enormous stress and pressure, to the point where their brains were doing exactly what our brilliant human brains are wired to do when things get overwhelming: disconnect.

Now, dissociation in itself isn’t a bad thing. It’s a survival skill. Our brain has ways of protecting us when what we’re experiencing feels like too much. When it happens because we’re burnt out, exhausted, and depleted, it’s a signal we need to listen to.

The most important thing I could do in that moment wasn’t to fix it, give advice, or dive into therapy mode. It was simply to validate.
I told them it made total sense.
That of course their brain and body were reacting this way given the situation.
And you could almost feel the relief through the phone when they realized they weren’t “failing” they were just human.

We all have the capacity to do this for the people we love.
You don’t have to be a therapist to listen, validate, and remind someone that what they’re feeling makes sense.

I encouraged them to step away from the books for a bit. To touch the ground. Go outside. Laugh. Eat something delicious. Feel the sun or the wind on their face. Because when your brain is sending you signals like that, it’s a message worth hearing.

And I’m grateful they called me.
Not because I could be their therapist, but because I could be a friend.

So, if you notice someone in your world starting to unravel under the pressure or if it’s you remember: you’re allowed to stop. To rest. To be a human being, not a machine. And sometimes, the most healing words you can hear are “That makes sense.”

And if this is you, please reach out to me or to a trusted friend. You don’t have to carry this alone. You are worthy of rest, support, and being reminded that you’re not broken. You’re human. And you’re not in this by yourself.