My Wild Horse Mind at Web Summit

Web Summit Vancouver was everything I hoped it would be. It was bright, bold, buzzy, and brimming with brains. Every corner pulsed with colour, ideas, ambition, and caffeinated humans in stylish sneakers. As a founder, I was lit up. As a human with what I lovingly call a wild horse mind, I was also, within about thirty-six hours, completely fried.

You know that feeling when your brain gallops ahead of your mouth? When your nervous system’s caught somewhere between inspired and overwhelmed? That was me. Around every turn, there was someone brilliant to meet, a new technology to marvel at, or a pitch to fine-tune. The excitement was real. So was the noise. And the music. And the sheer density of stories, conversations, and overlapping ambitions.

I loved it. I also had my Loop earplugs in within the first twenty minutes.

There’s a particular kind of fatigue that doesn’t come from physical effort but from full-on sensory saturation. I think of it as neural glitter bombing. The challenge isn’t that I didn’t want to be there. It’s that my horse of a mind wanted to run in five directions at once, and eventually collapsed in a heap beside the espresso bar.

I’ve come to understand that this sensitivity is a gift. It helps me spot patterns, tune into emotional undercurrents, and catch moments of real human connection in all that chaos. But it also means I’ve got to pace myself. Taking a break doesn’t mean I’m fragile. It means I want to stay coherent long enough to catch that one perfect investor, collaborator, or conversation that could change everything.

The Bright Buzz of Tech Events

Web Summit is what happens when the world’s smartest, most caffeinated extroverts all descend on one place and turn the volume way up. It’s not just a tech event. It’s a full-on sensory rollercoaster of music, light, motion, and possibility.

Picture this: six conversations overlapping, someone’s pitch deck glowing from an iPad, a drone buzzing overhead, and the guy next to you yelling into his AI demo. Add a DJ, a neon art installation, and a cheer from the crowd because someone just landed a Series A.

This isn’t a complaint. It’s electric. It’s inspiring. It’s creative combustion at its best. But the same fire that fuels innovation can also scorch the nervous system. Especially for those of us whose minds don’t just ride the wave; they gallop straight into it wearing a sparkle cape.

These high-energy spaces are where deals happen, ideas collide, and serendipity thrives. They’re also places where overstimulation hits hard. Mental fatigue, decision paralysis, and the social version of jet lag are real. It’s the price of being somewhere this alive.

Wild Horse Meets the Nervous System

The nervous system doesn't care how exciting your schedule is. It cares about cues. Loud music, flashing lights, rapid-fire conversations, and the sense that something important might be happening just out of frame all activate what is known as the sympathetic nervous system. This is the part of us designed for action, alertness, and movement. It's brilliant for survival and even better for closing deals. But it's not built to stay switched on all day.

When the sympathetic system gets activated, it floods us with adrenaline and cortisol. That buzz you feel? That's your body preparing to run a race or pitch a VC panel. The problem is, without intentional moments of regulation, we stay in that state long after the music stops. The mind races. The body tenses. The wild horse bolts, and nobody gets much done.

Balancing this is the parasympathetic nervous system, sometimes called the "rest and digest" mode. This is where restoration happens. It's where creativity gets room to breathe and where we come back into ourselves.

Tech events like Web Summit are full of “go” signals. We need to create our own “pause” signals. For me, that meant using my Loop earplugs to turn the volume down without disconnecting completely. I brought noise-cancelling headphones for deeper resets between sessions and made a point of stepping outside to breathe, feel the air, and let my senses settle. When I could, I took a few minutes to meditate in a quiet corner—well, as quiet as I could find. I drank water, ate real food, and sat somewhere without stimulation, even for just a moment. These small practices made a huge difference.

Those micro-breaks weren't indulgences. They were the reason I could keep showing up with energy and clarity. I know how strong my system is, and I also know it needs help sometimes. Especially when my wild horse mind wants to run toward every opportunity at once.

And yes, the fear of missing out is real. But I've learned that it's better to miss one thing and be present for the next than to burn out trying to catch everything. The right opportunity won't be lost because I took a moment to breathe.

Neurodiversity in Tech Isn’t a Side Note—It’s a Superpower

It’s not just founders like me who bring sensitive, fast-moving minds into the startup world. Across tech, neurodivergent thinkers are everywhere, shaping the products, tools, and systems that are changing how we live and work.

Recent estimates suggest that about 20 percent of people fall somewhere under the neurodivergent umbrella. That includes autism, ADHD, dyslexia, sensory processing differences, and more. In startup culture, that number may be even higher. High-speed pattern recognition, unconventional problem-solving, intense focus, and emotional sensitivity are often the traits that make founders and product builders successful in the first place.

These minds see what others miss. They connect dots most people don’t even realize are on the page. They’re also more likely to get overwhelmed in loud, high-stimulation environments, or to burn out from trying to match neurotypical pacing without enough space to recover.

The truth is, neurodiversity isn’t rare in tech—it’s a core part of our creative engine. Which means creating environments that support diverse nervous systems isn’t just thoughtful. It’s strategic. It keeps people in the room, in the conversation, and in the game longer.

And that includes the conference floor. Especially when we know that brilliance can come from the person who’s quietly thinking in the corner just as easily as from the one confidently working the crowd.

What Web Summit (and Others) Could Do Better

Let me be clear. I loved Web Summit. It was dynamic, well-run, and packed with opportunities to learn, connect, and be inspired. But like many big events, it wasn’t built with sensory inclusion top of mind. If you’ve got a sensitive nervous system or you’re neurodivergent, that can make the experience harder than it needs to be.

The good news? It wouldn’t take much to make a big difference.

Imagine a quiet room. Not just a greenroom for speakers, but a calm space open to any attendee who needs a breather. Picture soft lighting, no background music, comfortable seating, and clear signage that lets people know it’s a place to reset.

Noise-reduction zones would help too, especially near networking lounges or demo areas. Even small sensory-aware touches like dimmable lights, stim-friendly swag, or printed schedules with visual indicators of intensity levels could be incredibly helpful.

It would also be meaningful to see panels or fireside chats that highlight neurodivergent voices. Founders, designers, and engineers with lived experience have powerful insights on building products and communities that work for more people.

None of these ideas require huge budgets or complicated logistics. They just require intention. When we create events that honor a range of sensory and cognitive styles, we make space for more brilliance to show up.

The Gentle Power of Rest

There’s nothing weak about resting. It’s not a sign that you can’t handle the pace or that you’re falling behind. It’s a sign that you’re paying attention to the most important tool you have: your own nervous system.

Rest doesn’t have to mean stepping away for hours. Sometimes it’s a few deep breaths, a stretch, or a walk around the block. It might mean saying no to one more pitch or stepping out of a panel five minutes early so you can reset before the next thing.

What I’ve learned—over and over—is that when you take care of your own nervous system, you show up smarter, clearer, and way more capable of connecting with the people who matter. And those are the moments that stick. Not the ones where you pushed through. The ones where you showed up present.

There’s strength in choosing regulation over reactivity. There’s wisdom in knowing your limits. And there’s something deeply radical about giving yourself permission to pause, even in a space built for speed.

Reins in Hand

Web Summit lit me up. It reminded me why I love building things, why I love this community, and why being around big ideas always feels like coming home. It also reminded me that I’m at my best—not when I try to do it all, but when I stay connected to myself.

My wild horse mind isn’t a flaw. It’s fast, intuitive, creative, and deeply sensitive. But it needs care. It needs guidance. And it does a whole lot better when I’ve got the reins in hand, not dragging behind me in a trail of overstimulation and half-finished conversations.

For founders, builders, and anyone navigating high-energy environments, the message is simple. You don’t have to override your system to belong here. You just have to learn how to ride it.

So here’s to making space for brilliance in all its forms. To choosing presence over panic. To building tech that’s not only smart but also human. And to remembering that sometimes, the strongest move you can make is to pause, breathe, and let your horse come back to you.

Carey-Jo Hoffman is the co-founder and chief growth officer of PrimeHealth.