When the goalpost is moves again
It’s 6:47am.
You’re in the glow of a clean term sheet.
You’re sipping something warm. You’re almost… soft.
And then it happens.
The email lands like a tiny grenade:
“Quick update—just a few changes.”
Translation: the goalpost has been relocated to another time zone.
Your nervous system immediately clocks in for unpaid overtime.
Suddenly:
your jaw is a vise
your chest feels like it’s holding a meeting
your brain starts scanning for danger like it’s TSA
and rest? Rest is now suspicious.
Rest is a trap.
Rest is for people who don’t have moving targets.
Babes. That’s sympathetic alert.
Not because you’re dramatic—because your body is doing its job: protect the empire.
But here’s the secret: you can stay powerful without staying braced.
Enter: Skullcap (Scutellaria lateriflora).
Skullcap: the Hypervigilance Herb
Skullcap is my go-to for that exact moment when the deal shifts again and my nervous system decides, “Rest is a trap.”
She’s the herb that helps your brain un-clench when you’re stuck in high alert—watchful, wired, bracing for the next email like it’s a jump scare.
Not a “turn you into a sleepy marshmallow” situation.
More like: you’re still sharp, you’re just not chewing glass internally.
Skullcap whispers to your body:
“We can be strategic without being scared.”
The Goalpost-Moved Protocol (a.k.a. Don’t Spiral, Sovereign)
The moment the email hits:
1) Name the state (don’t become it)
Say it out loud:
“My nervous system thinks this is danger.”
Not because it is—because it feels like it is.
That one sentence separates you from the spiral.
2) Take Skullcap (fast + CEO-friendly)
Tincture: 1–2 dropperfuls right after that damn goalpost move.
If you’re still buzzing, repeat once in 30–60 minutes.
Tea option: 1–2 tsp dried skullcap, steep 10–15 minutes, covered.
(Yes, covered. We keep the aromatics like we keep our standards: protected.)
3) Do the “Unhook” Exhale (60 seconds)
Hand on sternum. Other hand on belly.
Inhale through the nose.
Exhale like you’re fogging a mirror—slow and long.
Whisper:
“The negotiation is not an emergency in my body.”
Unclench your tongue from the roof of your mouth.
That’s the secret lever. That’s where the guard dog lives.
4) Respond like a woman who sleeps
After Skullcap starts smoothing the sharp edges, then you reply.
Not from panic. Not from proving.
From precision.
Because moving goalposts don’t get to move you.
Signs You Needed Skullcap Yesterday
If any of this is you, welcome:
you reread the email 7 times and still don’t “get it”
your shoulders are up by your ears like they’re trying to escape
you’re “fine” but your leg is bouncing like a metronome of doom
you can’t rest because your body is convinced something else is coming
Skullcap is especially sweet for:
tight jaw
wired brain
irritable edge
that internal bracing that makes softness feel unsafe
A Tiny Reframe for the High-Output Woman
The goalpost moved.
That doesn’t mean you failed.
That doesn’t mean you’re behind.
That doesn’t mean you should hold your breath for the next 6 hours.
It means you’re negotiating.
And negotiations are not nervous-system-friendly by default.
So we give your body support like the luxury asset it is.
The Soft Power Closing (aka: the real flex)
Skullcap doesn’t make you less ambitious.
It makes you less hijacked.
Less reactive.
More sovereign.
It turns “rest is a trap” into:
“Rest is a resource.”
And baby, a regulated woman can out-negotiate a frantic one every single time.
Quick cautions (because we’re cute and responsible)
Skullcap can be sedating for some folks—start modest, especially if you’re sensitive. Avoid stacking it with alcohol or sedatives. If you’re pregnant, nursing, or managing meds/conditions, check with a qualified clinician.
xoxo, gina