By Ken Hollow, professionally stressed and personally short-circuiting
It happened on a Tuesday — because of course it did.
One second I was resizing a client’s Canva template, the next I was absolutely convinced I was dying. My chest tightened. My heart fluttered. My vision pulsed. I clutched my sternum like a Victorian widow and whispered, “not now, I still have five reels to post.”
Turns out? Not a heart attack.
Just another glamorous episode of stress-induced heart palpitations, courtesy of the creator economy.
Let’s talk about it.
🔹 The Symptoms of Creative Collapse
First, some context.
I hadn’t slept properly in weeks. I’d been living on coffee and ego. I was juggling:
- Two client launches
- One collapsing personal brand
- A toxic relationship with Instagram Insights
I’d been feeling off — like my body was glitching in protest.
Then came The Flutter.
Not the cute kind. The full-body, panic-coded, “do I need to lie down or go to the ER” kind.
✅ Diagnosis: Burnout, but make it cardiac.
🔹 My Apple Watch Became My Doctor
If you’ve never had your wrist buzz to alert you that your heart rate is wildly inappropriate for someone literally doing nothing — it’s humbling.
“Your heart rate is elevated. Are you okay?”
Am I okay? I’m staring at a blank caption box, existentially unraveling. Of course I’m not okay.
But I still clicked “Yes.” Because lying to my health devices now counts as self-care.
✅ Medical innovation meets digital denial.
🔹 Creator Anxiety Is Not Hypothetical
We joke about it — the burnout, the overwhelm, the hustle fatigue.
But it manifests. In real, sweaty, arrhythmic ways.
- Your inbox gives you heartburn.
- Your engagement drop triggers chest tightness.
- You wake up at 3 AM because you forgot to post a reel and now your adrenal system is doing jazz hands.
It’s not just “in your head.” It’s in your nervous system. And apparently, in your heartbeat.
✅ Spoiler: No amount of adaptogenic tea will fix capitalism.
🔹 The Doctor Visit (Aka The Shame Spiral)
When I finally saw an actual medical professional, I was ready for the worst.
I told them about the palpitations, the fatigue, the feeling like I was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. They ran tests.
The results? “Your heart is structurally fine. But your lifestyle isn’t.”
Translation: You’re not dying. You’re just living like someone who wants to.
✅ Prescribed: Less work. More boundaries. Also magnesium.
🔹 And Yet, I Keep Posting
You’d think this would be a wake-up call.
It was. For about a week.
Then I was back on Canva. Back scheduling content. Back accepting rush jobs because “it’s just a quick one.” Back ignoring my body’s alerts like they were spam emails.
Why?
Because I’ve built a life where stopping feels more dangerous than continuing. Because every post might be the one. Because I don’t know who I am if I’m not producing.
✅ Health is wealth, but likes are dopamine.
🔹 Nana Vix’s Heart-Centered Content Strategy
Let’s not forget Nana.
Upon hearing about my heart scare, she asked if I’d considered “energetically grounding my cardiovascular field.”
She then sent me a PDF titled “Heartspace Content Planning: Post with Intention, Breathe with Purpose.” It included:
- Affirmations to recite before writing captions
- A breathwork exercise for carousel sequencing
- A heart-chakra-aligned posting schedule synced with lunar tides
I tried it. I still had palpitations. But I looked cute doing it.
✅ Technically not FDA-approved. But very on-brand.
🔹 Final Thoughts (While Wearing a Holter Monitor)
Here’s the thing.
If your heart skips a beat, and not because someone flirted with your pinned post, maybe it’s time to pause.
Stress isn’t a vibe. It’s a health hazard. You can’t optimize your way out of nervous system collapse. You can’t edit palpitations in post.
So yes, I’m still posting. Yes, I still care about the algorithm. But I’m also:
- Drinking actual water
- Taking non-performative breaks
- Saying “no” without sending a long apology email afterward
Because this body? This tired, overstimulated, slightly glitchy vessel? It’s the only real platform I’ve got.
by Ken Hollow, formerly in denial, now just in magnesium supplementation
Hi. I’m Ken. I run Two Second Solutions, a one-man agency that somehow landed a fox spirit influencer as a client. I drink too much coffee, blog when I need to vent, and regularly update my résumé just in case she sets the office on fire again. I’m not crying — it’s just spell residue.