Why some people can’t stop and others can’t start

The “workaholic” versus the “bed-rotter.” The “activist” versus the “disengaged.” The “grinder” versus the “slacker.”

What if these seemingly opposite types aren’t that different—just two sides of the same coin? What if the person who never stops and the person who can’t get started are both trying to accomplish the same inner state?

Both feel overwhelmed, and both are doing their best to feel safe.

When Safety Means Staying in Motion (Or Shutting Down)

When our nervous systems feel overwhelmed, we seek safety through whatever pathway feels most available.

Our nervous system has three main responses (what polyvagal theory describes as ventral vagal, sympathetic, and dorsal vagal). When we feel safe, we can connect with others. When threatened, we go into fight-or-flight mode or shut down completely.

For some people, moving feels safer than stillness. Their nervous system learned that motion equals survival. The constant doing, the endless task lists, the never enough, the inability to rest. Sometimes we talk about it as achievement-oriented or being “Type-A.” But from a nervous system standpoint, it’s about regulation—”Doing makes me feel better.” Stillness feels vulnerable—dangerous even, so they stay in motion to feel safe.

For others, slowing down or stopping feels like the safest option. Their nervous system learned that trying is pointless or leads to pain, so they protect themselves by going small, conserving energy, or disengaging. What we call “underachieving,” “procrastination,” or “avoidance” might actually be shut down—a protective response when demands exceed capacity.

How Survival Responses Become Personality Types

No one’s born a chronic “workaholic” or “procrastinator.” Here’s how we get stuck:

In nature, animals shake and tremble intensely after escaping danger. This resets their nervous system so they can simply continue with their day. Animals who can’t complete this natural response stay stuck—wandering around shut down, uptight, or confused.

Humans shake and tremble, too, as part of our nervous system regulation. But we also need social and emotional restoration to reset our nervous system after an overwhelming experience. But instead of allowing our nervous system to complete its natural cycle, we learn to suppress these responses. We’re taught to sit still, hold it together, hold it in, don’t cry, don’t get angry, you’re fine, push through, push it down, don’t talk about it, compartmentalize it, think positive thoughts, get over it, and other “encouragements” to ignore what our body naturally needs to process a difficult experience. It often begins with an adult teaching us to ignore our natural responses as a youngster, then later we’re the ones policing ourselves with similar inner talk.

The workaholic in “fight-or-flight” and the procrastinator in “shut down” may both be stuck in an incomplete nervous response cycle likely started many years ago. Whether someone develops the strategy to accelerate or shut down—underneath, it’s the same intent: seeking regulation when true safety feels out of reach.

When Does It Become a Problem?

The problem isn’t having these responses. It’s getting stuck in one mode when the original threat is gone, especially when it interferes with living the life we want.

When our nervous system gets stuck, we hear ourselves saying things like:

“I don’t know another speed. I can’t slow down even if I want to.”

“I’m always looking for more to take on and the next thing to do.”

Or:

“I can’t bring myself to start even though I know I should.”

“I just can’t think about this now—I’ll think about it tomorrow, next week, in the future.”

We Unfairly Judge Our Dysregulation

Here’s what’s interesting: we don’t judge these states equally.

We’ve turned “I’m so busy” into a badge of honor while treating stillness as suspicious. The person who feels anxious without constant accomplishment gets called “dedicated,” “ambitious,” “a high-performer.” The person whose nervous system is fighting for survival in a different way gets called “unmotivated,” “lazy,” “under-performing.”

Even though overdoing and shut down are both nervous system dysregulations, our society rewards one type and punishes the other.

We internalize these judgments and end up fighting our own nervous system. The “workaholic” feels shame when they’re not achieving, so they can’t stop. The “procrastinator” feels shame about not being able to start, which deepens the shut down. Both are exhausted from being stuck in survival mode. This self-attack keeps us stuck because shame activates the exact nervous system responses we’re trying to regulate.

Who Benefits From Our Dysregulation?

Someone is benefiting from our dysregulation—sometimes accidentally, sometimes deliberately.

When we’re over-functioning: employers get extra labor for the same pay, families get their reliable people-pleaser, communities get someone to carry the load. When we’re shut down, others don’t have to compete with our contributions or address our requests—they can dismiss us as “checked out.”

Want to see this dynamic clearly? Stop overfunctioning (if doing more is your default) or start pursuing your goals (if shut down is your default), and notice who pushes back. Who gets uncomfortable? Who tries to guilt or threaten you back into your old patterns?

Our nervous system doesn’t operate in isolation; it responds to our environment. When we fall short, it can feel like a personal failing, when sometimes it’s actually a reasonable response to an unreasonable environment.

A Different Way to See Productivity and Procrastination

What if our relationship with productivity or procrastination is a protective adaptation, not a personality flaw?

Instead of applauding “overachievers” who need constant motion to feel safe, or calling people “lazy” when they’re conserving what little survival energy they have left, we could view both as different survival modes. Neither is better or worse—they’re just different ways our nervous system tries to keep us safe.

Rather than judging these states, we could get curious about the message our nervous system is sending. What’s the threat it’s protecting us from? And what does it need to complete its natural cycle?

When I see it this way, the question shifts from “How do I stop being a workaholic?” or “How do I stop procrastinating?” to “What’s my nervous system trying to protect me from, and what’s one thing I can do right now to signal that I’m listening?”

Note: This covers two common survival responses, but our nervous system is more sophisticated than this. There are hybrid states and other patterns like fawning that I’ll explore in future pieces.

A Starting Point: Remembering What Safety Feels Like

Most people stuck in survival mode have forgotten what regulation feels like in their body.

Begin somewhere your nervous system already feels safe. For me, it’s out in nature. But it doesn’t have to be nature. It can be at home with your pets, in your kitchen, around the fireplace with loved ones, or somewhere else entirely where you feel like yourself the most.

The next time you’re in that place, take 5 minutes to notice what that feels like in your body. How are you breathing? How’s your heart rate? How are you holding your body? What’s your energy level? How’s your mood?

Remember all of this. This is what regulation feels like in your body.

As you move throughout your day, pay attention to what happens in your body with different situations, different people. Notice what happens as your nervous system shifts, and what it feels like to return to regulation, if it does.

An Experiment Worth Trying

Here’s something I experimented with when I was healing from burnout (although you don’t have to be burned out to try this):

Pay attention to what happens in your body when you have nothing scheduled.

Does it feel restful or agitating? Do you feel calm or do you immediately start creating tasks? Does your mind race to fill the space or can you settle into the stillness?

Then pay attention to what happens in your body when you begin adding things to your schedule.

Does it feel energizing or depleting? Do you feel calm or do you immediately start looking for items to push off or avoid? Does your mind find a filled-out schedule meaningful or burdensome?

And finally, find your current sweet spot (this can change over time)—what’s the right level of busyness before energetic engagement turns to fearful or anxious engagement? What’s the right level of spaciousness before peaceful stillness turns to fearful or anxious stillness?

The most direct way to understand our nervous system is through our bodies. What you notice is useful data that can inform your next step.