You don’t.

There was a period of time where I thought intentional living meant optimizing every second of every day.

Clear goals. Habit tracker fully checked off. Meal prepped lunches. A morning routine that started at 5:30am and somehow included journaling, meditation, lemon water, pilates, and a spiritual awakening before most people had answered an email.

Ironically, the more obsessed I became with “intentional living”… The more disconnected from myself I actually felt.

I was spending so much time trying to optimize my life that I wasn’t actually experiencing it anymore.

Everything became about management. Tracking. Improving. Maximizing. Optimizing.

While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with planning your life, I think somewhere along the way we started confusing intentional living with hyper-controlling every second of our existence.

If the last 4 years of trying to self-discipline myself into being productive every minute of every day only to find myself burnt out and deeply dissatisfied even when my dreams are coming true right before my eyes have taught me anything… It’s that intentional living is less about a life that looks perfect on the outside and more about your internal experience of the life you already have.

So before you set that 5am alarm or buy that expensive planner and think those things are going to help you live an intentional life, try thinking about it like this instead.

How Over-Optimizing Your Life Can Quietly Drain the Joy Out of It

I think a lot of high-achieving women accidentally turn their lives into one giant optimization project.

Every hobby becomes a way to be productive. Every walk becomes a step goal. Every meal becomes nutrition math. Every morning becomes a way to measure your self worth by whether or not you complete your unrealistic 10 step routine you saw some influencer say changed her life.

Or is that just me?

Eventually you realize you’ve become the manager of your life instead of an actual participant in it. That’s the trap. Because intentional living is supposed to help you feel more connected to your life. Not more controlled by it.

Not every moment needs to be optimized. Not every hobby needs a purpose. Not every routine needs to become Pinterest-worthy.

If your “intentional life” leaves no room for joy, spontaneity, rest, emotion, reflection, or presence… What exactly are we optimizing for?

Intentional Living Isn’t Always Visible

A lot of the most intentional choices you’ll ever make in your life will be completely invisible to other people.

This is the part the “that girl” productivity influencers don’t talks about because it’s not particularly aesthetic or measurable.

Nobody sees:

• The pause before you react

• The boundary you quietly uphold

• The moment you choose rest instead of proving yourself

• The decision to stop forcing something that no longer feels aligned

• The deep breath before responding to an email that triggered you

• The choice to not overload your schedule just because you technically could

As much as it REALLY pains me… I had to learn the hard way that an intentional life can’t be checked off a to-do list or time blocked on a calendar.

Being intentional isn’t a productivity metric, it’s your internal experience of your life.

It’s the difference between moving through your life consciously vs compulsively. Forcing vs flowing. Reacting vs responding.

So if your version of “intentional living” only works when you’re operating at 100% capacity with perfect discipline and optimal conditions… that’s not intentionality.

That’s misery.

Real intentional living requires flexibility.

It requires enough self-awareness to ask: “What do I actually need right now?” “How do I really feel about this?” “What feels aligned instead of just impressive?”

Because sometimes the most intentional thing you can do is stick to the plan, and other times the most intentional thing you can do is let it all go.

What Intentional Living Looks Like for Me Now

These days, intentionality shows up less in perfectly executed routines and more in the way I move through ordinary moments.

Sometimes it’s small.

Like:

• Stopping during a walk to let the sun hit my face for a few seconds instead of rushing to close my Apple Watch rings

• Drinking my coffee slowly and cuddling my dogs instead of racing to my email inbox

• Moving slowly instead of rushing

• Sending the “I miss you” text to a friend or family member instead of just thinking it

• Pausing before reacting when I feel triggered so I can decide how I actually feel instead of responding from stress or overstimulation

• Visualizing that I’m washing away all that no longer serves me while in the shower

• Eating slowly and acknowledging all the hard work that went into the food on my plate

• Not taking on more work without first considering what needs to be removed, delegated, or deprioritized

But intentionality shows up in bigger decisions and moments too.

Like:

• Building a career around the lifestyle I actually want - not vice versa

• Moving to a small town from the city because the pace of life feels better

• Buying a small house because it’s truly what my husband and I need instead of the big and “impressive” one

• Only working with clients, projects, and opportunities that feel aligned

• Choosing to work for a boss that treats me like a human over the corporate job with a bigger salary

What stays the same in all of those examples is this:

None of those moments require a planner, a goal, or waking up at 5 AM.

None of them have anything to do with becoming a “better” person. They’re about becoming a more present one.

And that genuinely feels SO. MUCH. BETTER.

A Challenge For You

Ask yourself this:

What if intentional living had absolutely nothing to do with self-improvement, professional development, productivity, goals, habits or routines.

What would an intentional life look like then?

Make a list.

Not of what would make you more impressive or more productive. But of what would make you feel more connected and present as you move through your life.

Intentional Living Was Never About Becoming More Optimized

I spent years trying to force myself into systems, routines, and ways of living that looked good on paper but didn’t actually work for me.

And because I’m disciplined, ambitious, and capable of pushing through discomfort, I could usually force myself to maintain those systems for a while.

But eventually my body would always tell on me. Burnout. Resentment. Exhaustion. Feeling emotionally disconnected from my own life.

That cycle has forced me to admit that there’s a difference between living intentionally and living forcefully. Force treats you like a machine. Intentionality treats you like a human being.

Maybe intentional living was never about becoming the most productive, disciplined, optimized version of yourself. Maybe it’s always been becoming more connected to yourself.

The older I get, the less interested I am in building a life that looks impressive to others if I’m too burnt out, overstimulated, or emotionally disconnected to actually enjoy it.

I don’t want to spend my entire life optimizing every moment just to arrive at a version of success that I’m too exhausted to experience.

I want my life to feel amazing now, while I’m living it. I think that might be the most intentional thing of all.

What to read next:

At the same time, I’ve always had more ambition than I knew what to do with.

I’ve never lacked drive, vision, the ability to work hard, care deeply, dream big, or want more for my life. What I’ve often lacked is the nervous system capacity to operate at the pace my ambition thinks I should.

And for years, that disconnect tortured me.

Because when your desire is huge but your energy is inconsistent, it’s very easy to make that mean something ugly about yourself.

I thought needing more rest meant I was weak. Feeling overwhelmed meant I was bad at life. Struggling to sustain constant output meant I wasn’t disciplined enough.

So I did what a lot of high-achieving women do.

I shamed myself. I pushed harder. I tried to override my body with willpower. I treated every human need like an inconvenience.

If I was tired, I needed to be tougher. If I was drained, I needed to be better. If I couldn’t keep up, I needed to fix myself immediately.

So I kept calling myself lazy for things that were often just signs my nervous system needed support.

The truth is, having a sensitive nervous system in a world obsessed with constant output can make you feel like a failure if you’re not careful.

Letting go of what we think success should look like…

I remember when I first started working from home. I set up the cutest home office.

Every single day, without fail, I would work at my desk in there for an hour or two and then I’d end up on the living room couch for the next five. Laptop balanced. Blanket on. Twilight playing in the background. Fully locked in.

Instead of being proud of myself for all the work I got done I would feel like a failure.

Because in my head, success looked very specific.

Wake up early. Get ready. Be polished. Sit at your desk in your fancy office all day. Optimize every hour. Show up as your best self all day, every day.

Instead, I am very much a woman who hits snooze 4 times, wears matching lounge sets like they’re business casual, and does some of my best thinking while horizontal.

For so long I made that mean something bad about me. It didn’t matter that the work got done (and done well, I might add). I was just a lazy person. And there was a lot of shame in that.

What I didn’t realize then was that I wasn’t struggling because I was lazy.

I was struggling because I was trying to force myself into a version of productivity that didn’t actually work for me.

The things I thought were making me “lazy”… were actually the exact things that helped me be productive.

The “lazy” things that are now part of my success strategy

1. Sleeping in and not getting up right away

Nothing has ever made me feel like a personal failure quite like waking up after 7am.

Like if I didn’t wake up at 5am, drink lemon water, journal, stretch, meditate, solve world hunger, and become a better person before sunrise… the day was basically ruined before it even started.

But forcing myself awake before my body is ready doesn’t make me more successful. It makes me anxious before I even open my laptop.

Now, if I wake up at 7 or 8, I don’t punish myself for it. And weirdly enough, that has made waking up earlier happen more naturally because there’s no dread associated to it.

I also like to wake up sloooow. Most mornings I stay in bed for 10-15 minutes snuggling my puppies, stretching, sipping water, and letting myself actually open my eyes before I’m in front of a laptop.

Turns out, easing into the day can make you more effective in it.

2. Wearing lounge wear, pajamas, or comfy clothes all day

I used to think I had to “dress for success” every day.

Which, sure. Sometimes putting on a cute outfit does increase my energy. I strongly believe in the power of dopamine dressing.

But I also had to admit that some days, tight pants and a full beat were not helping me succeed. They were sensory annoyances that just made me aware of my waistband every 5 seconds.

Working all day in comfy clothes, a messy bun, and no makeup used to feel like “letting myself go.”

Now my motto is “If I can’t do it my purple fuzzy robe - I don’t want to do it.”

When my body feels comfortable, my brain has more room to focus. I’m not fidgeting, adjusting, judging myself in the mirror, or wasting energy performing productivity.

Some days, getting ready helps me feel polished and confident. Other days, it steals the exact bandwidth I need to GSD.

Both can be true.

And somehow, the work still gets done. Imagine that.

3. Breaks and sensory rest

Historically my approach to taking breaks is similar to the way some people go to the dentist. Late, reluctantly, and only when things become painful.

Now I understand that a break is not me abandoning the work. It’s me protecting the quality of the work.

A nap or meditation break is not a failure. It’s the difference between clicking between 47 tabs mindlessly and coming back for one focused hour that actually moves something forward.

My old strategy was: push until I crash.

My new strategy is: pause before I my brain turns to mush.

Much better for everyone involved, honestly.

4. Only being able to focus for 3–5 hours at a time

For years, I measured productivity by duration of time spent working. I thought productivity meant being locked in for 8 straight hours.

But in my experience, my best work happens in sprints, not marathons.

It comes from a few hours of actual focused deep work, clear thinking, and real output.

When I accepted that my brain has a prime window each day, I stopped wasting so much energy shaming myself outside of it.

Now I plan around it. My shortest but sharpest hours get my most important work. Lower-energy windows get admin, emails, and easier tasks.

That shift made me more productive because I stopped resisting my natural rhythms.

5. Working from the couch or bed

There’s a point in almost every work day where I get the urge to go sit on the couch.

I used to feel so guilty about this.

Because obviously a real ~boss babe~ sits upright at her desk in her gorgeous home office all day, right? Wrong.

Turns out, working from the couch helps me regulate and focus.

It softens the day. It makes work feel less rigid. It lets my body relax enough for my brain to find flow.

Can I do every task from the couch? No. But writing, planning, creative thinking, strategy, reviewing ideas, problem solving? Elite couch activities.

And if the work is excellent, who am I to judge the location where it was completed?

7. Girl breakfast, lunch… and maybe dinner too

Listen, I love a proper meal. My husband is the chef in our house and most days, he makes sure I’m taken care of in this department.

But some days, I’m left with the responsibility of feeding myself. If I make it too complicated, I delay it. Then I’m starving, irritable, shaky, overwhelmed, and suddenly one email feels like a personal attack on my nervous system.

So instead of crumbling under the pressure of believing every meal needs to be balanced, beautiful, homemade, and served in a bowl worthy of a Pinterest board, I go with what feels easy.

Some days meals look like eggs and toast. Or cheese and fruit. Or a yogurt cup and whatever nuts and seeds are in the pantry.

Because simple food eaten consistently throughout the day beats aspirational wellness that I’ll never actually do every time.

The uncomfortable truth my overachiever brain had to accept

I am still my best self when I wake up at 7 instead of 5.

When I do 5 solid hours of work instead of dragging myself through 8 miserable ones.

When I’m in pajamas. On the couch. Hair clipped back. Questionable lunch plate beside me.

I might not look like my best self by hustle culture standards. But I feel better. I think clearer. I produce better work. And most importantly, I can keep going in a way that feels sustainable.

Here’s how you can redefine the habits you feel shame about to become the tools that help you be more productive.

1. Audit your “lazy” behaviors
What is something you do that you constantly judge yourself for?

2. Look at the actual outcome
Are those behaviors actually hurting your health or performance? Or are they just not matching the image you think you should be?

3. Keep what works
If something helps you focus, feel better, or stay consistent… it stays. Even if it’s not aesthetic like what the Pinterest productivity girlies are doing.

4. Build productivity around your real patterns
Not your ideal ones. Your actual ones.

That’s where sustainable success lives.

I’m not anti-discipline. I’m just no longer interested in discipline that feels like punishment.

The goal isn’t to become less driven or less ambitious. It’s to stop making your life harder than it needs to be in the name of being your “best” self.

What to read next:

I go from a high-functioning, strategy-generating, deal-closing machine…to having the cognitive function of a potato on xanax.

No warning. No transition plan. No out-of-office message from my brain.

Just barely functioning while I’m still expected to perform.

For the first 3-4 hours of my day I’m thriving and then I eat lunch and it’s like someone gently unplugs my brain.

Writing a simple email suddenly feels like I’m solving a math equation.

I open a new tab and immediately forget why.

I read the same sentence five times and somehow comprehend it less each time.

And because I have a lot of autonomy in my work (which I’m very grateful for), the flip side is: No one is coming to snap me back into focus when I hit that wall.

Which is amazing for my lifestyle…but also means I have to know how to manage my own energy when it inevitably dips.

For a long time, I made this mean something about me

Why can’t I just push through?

Why does it feel so hard to do basic things?

Why do I feel like a completely different person than I was this morning?

Old me responded to this by forcing harder.

But the version of me who’s healing while hustling? She moves differently.

With more self-trust, more self-compassion, and zero desire to turn a normal human experience into a personality flaw.

Because it turns out…

The afternoon slump is real, like, actually.

We’ve been sold this idea that consistency looks like having the same energy all day long. But that’s not how your body or your brain actually works.

There’s a natural dip in your circadian rhythm in the early afternoon.

Your energy drops. Your alertness decreases. Your brain becomes less efficient.

And for a lot of women, it can feel even more intense depending on hormones, blood sugar, sleep, stress… all the behind-the-scenes things.

So, no.

You didn’t suddenly become lazy after lunch.

Your work ethic didn’t evaporate.

Your biology just shifted gears and your brain forgot to submit a time off request.

But life doesn’t stop at 2pm - so what’s a girl to do?

As much as I’d love to fully surrender to becoming a horizontal couch troll every afternoon… life doesn’t care.

Deadlines exist. People are counting on me.

So here’s the shift that actually helps me GSD when my brain is buffering but my responsibilities are not.

For the longest time, I thought the goal was: figure out how to have peak performance energy all day.

Now I know that is not only unrealistic, it’s unsustainable.

Instead, the new goal is to work with my energy instead of against it.

Less force. More flow.

The things I actually do when my brain starts doing its 2pm disappearance act.

Whether you work from home or in an office these tips still apply. Because the afternoon slump? She doesn’t discriminate.

1. I plan for the slump instead of fighting it

The afternoon slump is not sneaky. She shows up almost every day.

So instead of pretending she won’t, I stack my mornings with my heaviest, most important work and leave the afternoons for lighter tasks.

I rarely schedule meetings in the afternoon if I can help it.

I don’t expect myself to do my most cognitively demanding tasks at 3pm.

Because trying to force high-performance output during a low-energy window?

That’s how I end up in freeze mode and may as well kiss any hope of productivity goodbye.

2. I switch up my environment

Sometimes I don’t need more discipline, I need a new backdrop.

Moving from my desk to the kitchen table, the couch, or outside in the summer gives me just enough novelty to feel like I can start fresh again.

3. I go outside (even for 10 minutes)

Fresh air is a wildly underrated reset strategy.

A short walk around the block with my pups can bring me back to life faster than trying to “push through” ever could.

4. I do a 5-minute qigong reset

This is new for me, and I’m very much a beginner.

Qigong is basically gentle movement + breath that helps move stagnant energy through your body.

As someone who sits a lot during the day this has been a game changer.

If you want to try it, here’s the link to the one I’ve been doing.

5. Peppermint Halo essential oil roller

I roll on my Saje peppermint halo and suddenly there’s signs of life. Like maybe there really is a brain behind my eyes?

The cooling/tingling sensation is immediate and weirdly effective.

6. I keep lunch light (because I’ve been humbled before)

Every time I think leftover spaghetti is a good lunch idea…I regret it. Immediately.

Heavy lunches = guaranteed afternoon crash.

Light, balanced meals = I at least have a fighting chance.

So I keep my lunches lighter and more balanced but not in a restrictive way.

In a I would like to remain a functioning human for the next 4 hours kind of way.

7. Desk treadmill + a bumpin playlist

If I’m really dragging, I’ll walk while I work. The standing desk + walking pad combo truly is an elite productivity hack.

Add a good playlist and suddenly I feel like I’m in the opening scene of The Devil Wears Prada instead of a slow mental decline.

8. A fun beverage is mandatory

I try not to do afternoon coffee. But a fun drink?

Sparkling water, iced matcha, anything that feels like a little treat helps shift my energy in just a few minutes.

9. I get brutally clear on what actually matters

Nothing makes the afternoon slump worse than a massive, unrealistic to-do list.

So I ask myself: what actually needs to get done today?

Everything else can wait.

A clear finish line = less overwhelm = way easier to follow through.

Bonus: give yourself a reward for finishing. It works.

The goal isn’t to eliminate the afternoon slump.

It’s to support yourself through it.

Your energy is not meant to be constant. it’s supposed to fluctuate.

Peak energy is a window. Not a constant state of being.

Trying to force yourself to operate at the highest level all day every day is one of the fastest ways to burn out.

You don’t need to become someone who can power through every hour of the day with the same intensity.

You just need to become someone who knows how to work with herself.

Who knows when to push and when to pivot.

When to stop forcing and start flowing.

You can be wildly ambitious and deeply productive without expecting your nervous system to operate like a machine.

So the next time you feel your brain trying to clock out early without permission, don’t make it mean something negative about yourself.

Get curious. What’s one small shift you could make to support yourself here instead of forcing yourself?

Trust that the afternoon slump is temporary. Your brain didn’t abandon you forever. She just took a very inconvenient mid-afternoon break. Which is why you might find yourself at hot yoga at 6pm later that day then banging out the tasks that felt impossible at 2:30pm.

Before you jump to berating yourself, remember that you’re not inconsistent. You’re cyclical. And learning how to work with that instead of resisting it?

That’s the real productivity hack.

What to read next:

After I got laid off from my first big girl job in 2023, I went into a full identity spiral.

Because… who am I if I’m not working and achieving something?

Fun question. Super chill. Loved that for me.

It was a very humbling season, to say the least.

But for the first time in a long time, I had time.

Real, open, slightly uncomfortable, what-do-I-do-with-my-hands kind of time.

And that’s when ya girl entered her hobby era.

Like aggressively.

I’m talking:

• fantasy novel TBR a mile long

• air dry clay all over my kitchen table

• painting, coloring books, embroidery

• sourdough starter named like it was a pet

• cozy gaming, puzzles, the whole Pinterest personality starter pack

But slowly… I started to feel like a person again.

Not a job title. Not a productivity machine. Not a walking to-do list with anxiety.

And it gave me something I didn’t even realize I had lost: a sense of self worth that had nothing to do with work.

And then, because I am who I am… my brain tried to ruin it.

Why all the millennial girlies suddenly have hobbies

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that so many of us are in our hobby era right now.

Especially the women who spent their 20’s grinding, graduating, chasing career success, promotions, and stability.

And now we’re sitting in the lives we worked so hard to build thinking…

“Why do I feel so empty?”

So we start reaching for things that feel softer. Slower. More human.

Things that don’t require us to perform.

But here’s the problem: We’re still us.

Slightly unwell about being “good” at things.

That special kind of high-achieving type A perfectionists that somehow turn sitting down to relax into a performance review

Ready to optimize, monetize, or weaponize everything we do in the name of personal and professional development.

So we unintentionally bring that same energy into the one place it was never supposed to go.

Turns out the things that bring me joy don’t need KPI’s…

It didn’t happen all at once.

It started innocently.

Scrolling past girls with full home libraries reading a book a day like it’s their full-time job.

Perfect sourdough loaves with designs that looked like they belonged in a Paris bakery.

Cute air dry clay projects that were both cute and functional.

Meanwhile:

• It takes me a month to finish a single book.

• My sourdough tastes great but usually looks a little… wonky.

• Every clay project I’ve made has gone straight into the trash.

I started looking at all my fun new hobbies in a new, harsher light.

I started thinking: Why am I not better at this?

Which is exactly how you ruin something that was never meant to be measured.

The boundary I had to set with myself

At some point I had to catch myself and be like… “Hey girl... What are we doing here?”

Why am I turning the ONE category of my life that is supposed to exist purely for joy into another way to measure my worth? Absolutely not.

I fucking refuse.

I refuse to let my perfectionist, overachiever brain weaponize my hobbies.

Some things get to just be fun.

No outcome. No goals. No way to measure success.

Because if you turn everything into something you have to be good at… you will run out of places to rest.

Not everything in life needs to become a self improvement project.

Some things really do just get to be fun.

So I made a decision.

I do not have goals for my hobbies.

None. Zero. Not even cute ones.

Because I know myself and the second there is a goal, my brain turns it into a KPI.

And I refuse to create quarterly targets for baking bread or finishing puzzles because who TF does that???

How to let your hobbies be fun and not another performance metric

This is what’s actually helped me keep hobbies as hobbies.

Not side hustles. Not performance categories. Not productivity metrics.

1. I opt out of comparison. Completely. Immediately.

When I see a reel of a girl doing her “weekly reading wrap up” and she’s talking about seven different books…

I keep on scrollin’.

That’s not me. It’s never gonna be.

I’m still out here getting completely lost in fantasy worlds, but at my own pressure-free pace.

The second I start thinking, “I wish I could read as much as her”…

That’s my cue.

Not to try harder. But to disengage.

Because that thought is how something fun quietly spirals into something I feel behind in.

2. I have zero goals around hobbies

Not even “read 2 books this month” energy.

Because I know how this goes.

A goal becomes a metric. A metric becomes pressure. Pressure becomes avoidance.

And suddenly the thing that was helping me feel better is something I’m procrastinating.

I’m not doing that to myself anymore.

3. I follow the spark

Some days I want to read.

Some days I want to paint.

Some days I don’t want to do anything except rewatch comfort shows and exist horizontally.

Hobbies are about flow, not force. I go where the spark takes me.

Sometimes I’m obsessed.

Sometimes I need space.

Sometimes I ghost a hobby for three months and come back like nothing happened.

You don’t need to be “consistent” for it to be a hobby.

4. I don’t force anything to become “my thing”

Not every hobby needs to stick.

I have spent an embarrassing amount of money on supplies for hobbies I tried once and never touched again.

And you know what? That’s fine.

A good hobby, for me, feels like I drop out of my head and into my body. I lose track of time enter a meditative state.

If that doesn’t happen, I’m allowed to just… not do it again.

Not every interest is a long-term identity. Some are just a Tuesday night.

Even if I really was convinced it was going to be my “thing.”

6. I remove any pressure to be good at it

This one is the hardest. And the most important.

I’ve:

• baked cookies that tasted like play dough

• abandoned a puzzle completely because I lost interest

• ripped up paintings and thrown them in the trash (kinda cathartic, if I’m honest)

• taken two months to read a single book

And none of that means I’m bad at my hobbies.

It means I’m a person… doing things for fun.

I don’t need to be good at something to enjoy it.

I don’t need to finish something just because I started it.

I’m not doing hobbies to produce something. I’m doing them to feel something.

Calm. Focus. Curiosity. Joy.

The value was never in the outcome.

It was in the fact that, for a moment, my mind was quiet.

If everything is a metric, nothing feels like a life

You can track your workouts. Measure your productivity. Optimize your routines.

Fine.

But if you start doing that to everything…

You will slowly eliminate every place in your life that feels like rest.

And then you’ll sit there, exhausted, wondering why nothing feels good anymore.

Even the things you used to love.

I think a lot of us are scared that if we’re not constantly improving, we’re falling behind, so we try to improve everything.

Our careers. Our routines. Our bodies. Our habits. And then… our hobbies.

So here’s the line I’ve drawn for myself.

My hobbies are not up for evaluation.

Not now. Not later. Not ever.

They don’t need to improve me. They don’t need to lead anywhere. They don’t need to make sense.

They just need to feel good.

I want you to consider: Where in your life have you accidentally created a scoreboard for something that was never meant to be a competition?

If you’ve been quietly turning your hobbies into another place to evaluate your self worth…

Hear me when I say this: you are allowed to have spaces in your life where you get to just exist without performing.

What to read next:

Like no matter how much you got done today, there’s still this quiet voice in the back of your head saying: “You could have done more.”

So you don’t feel proud. You feel behind.

And the worst part?

The more you punish yourself for not doing everything, the harder it becomes to do anything.

If you’re anything like me, “unproductive” days quickly spiral into “wasted” weeks and the only way to catch up will be to work twice as hard next week.

I’m already exhausted just thinking about it.

To add another layer of resistance, this is right around the time my brain usually decides it’s the perfect moment to conduct an internal performance review of my entire personality.

Suddenly, I’m frozen in that deeply uncomfortable middle space where I know I should be doing something, but starting feels weirdly impossible and relaxing feels illegal.

Each task starts carrying emotional weight.

All the expectations about how well it needs to be done. All the stories I’ve told myself about what it means if I don’t do it perfectly. All the moments in the past where I felt like I should have done more or been more organized or gotten ahead sooner.

So suddenly sending one email isn’t just sending one email anymore. It becomes proof that I’m competent, disciplined, responsible, and worthy of the opportunities I’ve been given.

Which is… a lot of pressure for one email.

The Year That Looked Like Success (But Felt Like Failure)

At the end of 2025, I had one of those moments where you zoom out and look at your life from a birds eye view.

And on paper? It was one of the best years of my life.

I had killed it at work.

I had grown personally and professionally.

I hit major milestones.

I built things I’m genuinely proud of.

Like objectively? Ya girl did the damn thing.

And yet… When I actually felt into the year, the overwhelming emotion wasn’t pride.

It was this weird, uncomfortable sense of being… unaccomplished.

Which made zero sense.

Every week I had a list. A perfectly color coded Google calendar. A Notion project manager to keep me on track. I made progress. I moved things forward. I got shit done.

And every week I still walked away feeling like I didn’t do enough.

Until I realized that there was rarely a single week that year where I finished everything I planned to do.

So every Friday turned into this quiet little ritual of self-disappointment:

Next week I’ll do better.

Next week I’ll try harder.

Next week I’ll be more focused.

But the real problem was that I consistently planned to do more than I had the physical and mental capacity to actually execute.

Which meant I had accidentally built a system where even a great week could still feel like failure.

And then one day my boss could clearly tell that I was overwhelmed and being hard on myself, and she said something so casually that it almost didn’t land.

She said, “I wouldn’t worry about it, your C game is other people’s A game.”

Wait, what?

Because in my mind, my “C game” is the days where I feel like I barely held it together.

But from the outside? What feels like barely functioning to me, apparently looks like excellent work to the rest of the world.

I stopped and asked myself…

Why exactly am I running myself into the ground trying to outperform my own expectations all the time?

Maybe the problem isn’t that I’m underperforming.

It’s that the standards I’m measuring myself against are so high they make normal human productivity look like failure.

The Anti-Achievement Experiment (Or: How I Accidentally Rewired My Brain with Gold Stars)

Around that time, I decided to try something that felt a little unhinged.

I made an anti-achievement sticker chart.

Yes. A literal one. Gold stars and all.

Except instead of rewarding productivity, I rewarded all the things I usually punish myself for.

⭐Stopping work early.

⭐Taking a nap.

⭐Not finishing my to-do list.

⭐Doing something imperfectly.

⭐Saying no.

And because I am a gold-star-loving, praise-motivated Leo…

Something interesting happened.

I started looking forward to giving myself stickers. Which means I was suddenly looking for opportunities to “anti-achieve.”

But the part that ended up mattering far more than the stickers themselves is what happened when that chart got full.

Nothing bad happened. I didn’t get fired. The people in my life didn’t respect me less.

The catastrophic consequences my brain always predicts simply… never showed up.

Maybe those things I thought were character flaws were never actually flaws.

Maybe they were just moments where my nervous system needed something different than my expectations were allowing.

The Self-Punishment Trap

Here’s what I’m still slowly realizing.

A lot of us mistake self-punishment for accountability.

We think that if we’re not being hard on ourselves, we’re letting ourselves off the hook. We think kindness will make us soft, flexibility will make us lazy, and self-compassion is just a cute little gateway drug to becoming a person who never follows through on anything.

And yet… if beating yourself up was actually an effective strategy, you wouldn’t still be stuck in the same cycle.

And neither would I.

Because pressure has never made me more powerful. It has made me more paralyzed. It has made everything feel heavier, higher stakes, and more emotionally loaded than it needed to be.

That’s not accountability. That’s self-inflicted fight or flight.

The issue isn’t having high standards.

And I don’t think the answer is to stop caring, stop trying, stop wanting big things, or start pretending ambition is bad just because sometimes it overwhelms me.

The issue is when I pile on the pressure so high that simple tasks become too heavy to carry.

The best metaphor I can think of for this is weight lifting. You absolutely should challenge yourself with enough weight to get stronger. That’s how growth happens. There should be some resistance. Some stretch. Some effort. That’s the whole point.

But if you walk into the gym and immediately try to lift in a weight class that your body is not prepared for, you don’t magically become stronger because your standards were high.

You injure yourself.

And I think a lot of us are doing that emotionally and mentally every single day.

The expectations we put on ourselves are way too heavy for our current capacity, and then when we inevitably crumble underneath them, we make that mean we’re weak, lazy, undisciplined, or failing.

When really… we’re just trying to deadlift our entire self-worth with bad form.

So the question I keep coming back to is this:

How do you hold yourself to high standards… without crushing yourself under them?

How I’m Learning to Hold High Standards Without Burning Myself Out

If I zoom out and try to articulate what I’m actually doing differently right now, it’s not that I’ve magically become a calmer, more regulated, perfectly balanced human who never gets paralyzed by a simple task again.

What has changed is how I respond when my very quick to criticize brain starts piling expectations on top of expectations until my nervous system starts collapsing under the weight of it all.

Lately, the shift has looked something like this.

1. I shift from paralysis to permission

Instead of trying to do everything, I give myself permission to do one small thing.

Because the problem is rarely the task.

It’s the weight I’ve attached to it.

One small action breaks the freeze.

And once the freeze breaks, momentum has a chance to show up.

Momentum → leads to another small action → which creates a tiny sense of accomplishment → which makes it easier to keep going.

And suddenly the cycle looks completely different.

Permission → action → momentum → metaphorical (or literal) gold star → repeat.

The funny part is that lowering the pressure doesn’t lead to doing less.

It almost always leads to doing more.

2. I run the anti-achievement sticker chart experiment on repeat

Not as a one-time thing.

As ongoing proof.

Proof that I can be imperfect and still be safe.

Proof that I can do less and still be valued.

Because evidence changes beliefs faster than mindset work ever will.

3. I don’t pretend my capacity is the same every day

For years I approached my days like my energy, focus, creativity, and motivation were supposed to show up at the exact same level every single morning.

I used to have a quote front and center on my Notion dashboard that said something like “Follow your plan - not your mood”

Which I know now is honestly a wild expectation for a human nervous system.

Now I meet myself where I’m at instead.

Some days I’m a superhero.

Some days I’m a sloth.

Either way, it’s all good baby babyyyy.

Because I know consistency doesn’t come from forcing the same output every day. It comes from adjusting expectations to match my current reality.

4. I set fun goals alongside career goals (in my side quest era)

Because if the only thing you’re striving for in life is productivity… Of course you feel like you’re failing.

Not everything needs to be optimized.

Not all wins can be measured.

Some things just get to be enjoyed.

5. I celebrate the small wins as much as the big ones

One thing my brain is very good at is immediately moving the goalpost.

Finish something? Cool, what’s next.

Make progress? Great, but there’s still more to do.

Which means I can complete an entire day of meaningful work and still feel like I didn’t do enough.

Now I’m trying to interrupt that pattern.

Because momentum actually thrives on acknowledgment.

When I pause long enough to notice that something moved forward, that a task got done, that a step was taken, my brain registers that as progress.

And progress creates energy.

Energy creates more progress.

Which is a much healthier cycle than guilt → pressure → paralysis.

6. I let productivity look messy

Perfectionism loves to tell me there’s a right way to do things.

But real life rarely looks like that.

Some days the workout happens in pajamas.

Some days the work gets done while I’m sitting on the couch.

Some days the meditation gets interrupted 3 times.

Some days the writing gets published minutes before my self-imposed deadline.

It still counts.

I’m learning that messy productivity is still productivity, and insisting that everything happen under perfect conditions is just another way perfectionism tries to stall forward motion.

7. I rest before I feel like I’ve earned it

This one is the hardest shift for me.

Because my natural instinct is to treat rest like a reward that only comes after everything else is done.

Which is funny, because I would never treat my phone like that.

I don’t wait for my phone battery to die completely before I plug it in.

I charge it when it’s running low.

But somehow I’ve spent years expecting my own brain and body to operate differently.

Because if I only rest once I’m completely depleted, that’s not rest.

That’s recovery from preventable burnout.

I don’t want to lose my ambition.

But I also don’t want my nervous system to feel like it’s constantly being chased by a productivity tiger.

The truth is, I’m probably always going to be someone with big goals and high standards and a brain that wants to build things and chase ideas and make life a little more interesting than it was yesterday.

That part of me isn’t going anywhere.

But I’m done trying to prove my worth by how many boxes get checked off my to-do list in a week.

I deserve to go after my dreams without turning my nervous system into collateral damage in the process.

And so do you.

What to read next:

Always available. Always composed. Always one step ahead.

What no one tells you is that there’s a very fine line between high-functioning and over-functioning… and you usually don’t realize you’ve crossed it until your body starts dysfunctioning and sending messages you can’t ignore.

So many of us are sprinting toward dysfunction while proudly calling it “being high-functioning” and wondering why we feel like absolute garbage.

Because let’s be honest.

We all want to be high-functioning.

We want to feel capable and sharp and on top of things.

We want to be the woman who “has it together.”

The one who’s dependable. Productive. Resilient. Impressive.

Which… I hate to break it to ya… That’s not high-functioning.

That’s over-functioning.

And I didn’t realize I’d crossed that line until the cost started showing up in places I couldn’t ignore anymore.

December 2024: when my body started keeping receipts

The first really loud sign showed up on my face.

A skin flare that looked different than anything I’d dealt with before. I’ve had bad skin forever, so I genuinely didn’t think much of it at first.

I booked a dermatologist appointment just in case. He looked at my skin, asked a few questions, then casually said:

“The best thing you can do is manage your stress.”

That’s when I knew I wasn’t high-functioning anymore. My over-functioning had quietly turned into literal body dysfunction.

And there were other signs, too.

My wrist started hurting. Like… really hurting. To the point where working felt hard. Typing hurt. Resting hurt. Holding a book hurt.

And because no one gets between me and my book boyfriends… I ended up seeing a specialist and suddenly it was no longer something I could push through.

Then there was the jaw pain from being in a perpetual state of clenching from stress.

The back pain from working long sedentary hours and not exercising.

The chronic exhaustion.

The feeling of being a shell of a human by the end of the day.

My Oura ring yelling at me that 90% of my days are spent in stress mode…

And slowly, quietly, all the consequences of over-functioning started stacking up into a price I was no longer willing to pay.

The quiet but exhausting cycle…

High-functioning, over-functioning, and dysfunctioning are not personality traits.

They’re states of being.

And most of us high-achieving women are cycling through them without realizing it.

High-functioning (what we think we’re doing)

High functioning doesn’t mean what you think it means.

It looks like:

• putting yourself first without guilt

• being realistic about what you can actually achieve in a day

• saying no to what doesn’t light you up or isn’t yours to own

• leaving blank space on your calendar (this one still makes my eye twitch)

• expecting fluctuating energy and consistency and not punishing yourself for it

High-functioning means having structure that supports ease and acts as a filter to protect your time and energy.

It includes habits that actually feel good, not ones you’re forcing because someone on Pinterest told you that you “should.”

It means owning imperfection as normal, not a personal flaw.

It also includes so. much. rest.

Even when you don’t think you deserve it or have earned it.

That realization is still the hardest part of this entire journey for me.

Over-functioning (what we accidentally slide into)

Over-functioning is where ambition quietly turns into self neglect.

It looks like:

• back to back meetings with no breathing room

• a calendar with zero space for joy, fun, connection, or spontaneity

• no boundaries, saying yes to everything even when it’s not your responsibility

• discipline that completely disregards how you feel

• doing things because you think you should, not because they actually help you

It looks like doing it all yourself because it has to be done perfectly.

It feels like wearing a mask or a Halloween costume every single day.

Over-functioning is being ON all the time.

And here’s the sneaky part: You’re still functioning. So no one worries. They praise you. They rely on you more.

Meanwhile, your nervous system is screaming and your body is quietly preparing to pull the emergency brake.

Dysfunctioning (when your body decides for you)

Dysfunctioning is what happens when over-functioning goes on long enough that your body decides it’s done asking nicely.

This is the stage we don’t like to talk about because it feels dramatic… until you realize how common it actually is.

Dysfunctioning looks like:

• physical symptoms you can no longer explain away

• underperforming at work despite trying harder than ever

• losing focus, creativity, and motivation

• making mistakes and then shaming yourself for them

• feeling like basic tasks take an unreasonable amount of effort

• exhaustion that sleep doesn’t fix

• anxiety that no amount of productivity can soothe

Dysfunctioning isn’t a personal failure.

It’s the logical outcome of being “on” for too long without recharging.

The hardest part?

Most high achieving women don’t land here because they’re lazy or careless.

They land here because they were responsible, capable, dependable… but deeply disconnected from their own limits. And we all have a breaking point.

The shift (and the part I still argue with daily)

Here’s what messes with my head to this day.

There’s still a part of me that believes if I just work harder, do more, push more, I’ll get better results.

And yet… I find myself with the same result. Cycling through high-functioning, to over-functioning, to dysfunctioning.

EVEN THOUGH I KNOW that the more I put myself first, the less I do, and the more I rest—the better I perform at work and the better I feel in my life.

I hate how true that is. I also love how true that is.

What actually helps me prevent dysfunction isn’t necessarily doing more self care.

It’s changing the systems that keep pushing me into over-functioning.

For example: I stopped scheduling anything on Fridays.

Not because I don’t work, but because I noticed a pattern of unexpected things popping up throughout the week that would throw off my entire plan. That blank day absorbs what I can’t anticipate and reduces overwhelm.

I also created a “task laundry” list. All the non urgent but necessary-eventually things live there. Once a month, I tackle them. The “task laundry” rarely piles up anymore.

I started going back to hot yoga and pilates for the first time since before COVID. It’s only twice a week, but it’s time I hold and protect just for me.

I also had an honest conversation with my boss about how urgent everything felt and how I wasn’t taking care of myself.

Turns out: she was going through the same thing.

We gave each other permission to slow down.

We became accountability partners.

Every day for 3 months we shared three wins: one mental, one physical, one spiritual.

Not productivity wins.

Human wins.

So where are you right now? (no judgment, just curiosity)

Before you try to fix anything, the first step is simply noticing where you’re at in the cycle.

And the real question isn’t “How do I get back to being high functioning as fast as possible?”

It’s “what is the cost you are no longer willing to pay?”

If you’re over-functioning or dysfunctioning: here’s what can help immediately

If your body is already waving red flags, this is not the moment for discipline or optimization.

This is the moment to:

• slow down more than feels comfortable

• lower the bar without lowering the goal

• remove pressure before adding anything new

Ask yourself:

• What can I pause, postpone, or ask for help with this week?

• What does my nervous system need today, not someday?

High-functioning doesn’t come from hustling your way out of dysfunction.

It comes from creating safety first.

Define high functioning for yourself

Here’s the part I wish someone had told me sooner:

You are allowed to have your own definition of high functioning.

Not your boss’s. Not Pinterest’s. Not hustle culture’s.

Ask yourself:

• When I’m at my healthiest, what does my life actually feel like?

• How much rest do I need to function well?

• What kind of structure supports ease for me?

Then get practical:

• What routines, habits, or systems help protect that state?

• What filters can prevent me from slipping back into over-functioning?

And maybe most importantly, ask yourself:

• How will I notice the signs of dysfunctioning early next time?

For me, it looks like:

• When I start saying “I don’t have time” for walking my dogs, hobbies, friends, movement, or things that bring me joy

• When everything feels urgent and I struggle to prioritize

• When my calendar is all work and no play

• When jaw pain, wrist pain, back pain, or skin flare ups show up

For you, it might look different.

A gentle experiment to start (no perfection required)

If you don’t know where to begin, start here.

For the next month, make three things your highest priority every day:

1. A mental win

2. A physical win

3. A spiritual win

That’s it. Just like my boss and I did.

A mental win might be:

• not doom scrolling before bed

• closing one open loop

• speaking to yourself more kindly

• ending your workday on time

• taking a sensory break

A physical win might be:

• a walk outside

• stretching for five minutes

• going to the gym or moving your body in any way

• drinking enough water

• going to bed earlier than usual

• taking a hot bath

A spiritual win might be:

• journaling

• meditating

• praying

• pulling an affirmation or oracle card

• doing something that makes you feel connected to yourself again

These are not productivity goals.

They are regulation goals.

Maybe the real goal isn’t becoming someone who can handle more. Maybe the goal is becoming someone who notices the signs of over-functioning sooner without shame.

When your calendar starts closing in on you.
When your body starts whispering before it has to start shouting.
When ambition quietly turns into self-neglect.

Hit reply (or comment below) and tell me:

Where do you think you are right now — high-functioning, over-functioning, or dysfunctioning? And what’s one cost of ambition you’re no longer willing to pay?

Because high-functioning isn’t about being the best version of yourself all the time.

It’s about building a life where you don’t have to sacrifice your wellbeing or your joy to be successful.

What to read next:

Like when your to-do list gets cleared you’re competent and capable and crushing it.

But when it doesn’t… suddenly you’re wondering if you’re actually good at your job, if everyone’s about to find out you’re a fraud, and if today is the day you finally get fired.

Because same….

Separating my self worth from my career success is still daily work for me.

It’s not something I healed once and am now living peacefully ever after. It’s something I have to remember again and again, especially on the days my productivity and energy fluctuates and my brain tries to turn that into a full character assassination.

Once upon a time in a not so far away land… my job was my ENTIRE identity

Back in 2021, I got my first big girl job.

Marketing Manager.

Twice the income I had ever made before.

Work from home a few days a week.

And it went straight to my head.

I felt like I had finally grown up and had my shit together. I loved telling people what I did for work. It sounded so impressive. I loved that for the first time, when someone asked me “what do you do?” I finally had an answer that made me feel proud instead of small.

What I didn’t see yet was how fast that job was becoming my entire identity.

Because not long after I started, the woman who hired me — the one who was supposed to be my leader and mentor — got fired. And all of her responsibilities quietly shifted onto me. No raise. No title change. And because I was new and eager to please and desperate to prove myself, I took it all on.

Marketing. Product development. Business development. Sales. Pricing strategy. Reporting. Managing a sales team.

As a “junior” level employee.

Was it hard? Yes.

Did I figure it out anyway? Also yes. I’m still very proud of.

But that’s where things got dangerous.

Because the more I took on the more I thought I was proving my worth.

The harder it got, the more valuable I must be.

The more I suffered, the more important I clearly was.

Meanwhile… people were getting fired every other day. Budgets were getting cut. Shady shit behind the scenes. My boss was a total creep. It was awful. Toxic on so many levels it’s actually not even funny.

But it looked really nice on paper.

And I cared about that way more than I want to admit.

Unintentionally, that job became the thing that made me worthy. I convinced myself they couldn’t do this without me. That I carried too much. That the team was too lean. That my workload was irreplaceable.

Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

Almost three years later, I got the call. I was being laid off.

And when you’ve spent the last few years thinking you’re the shit because you have a job title that sounds really cool… that is a hard pill to swallow.

But I didn’t just lose a job.

I lost who I thought I was.

I was embarrassed. Ashamed. I didn’t want to tell anyone. I was the breadwinner for my family and had no idea what this meant for us financially. And even though I was overwhelmingly relieved to be released from an environment that was suffocating me, I was also terrified.

Because now when people asked “how’s work?” or “what’s new?” I didn’t have my fancy work-from-home marketing manager script to make myself feel good.

I was unemployed. Even worse. I got fired.

And the loudest thought in my head wasn’t “that place was toxic I’m so relieved to be rid of it.”

It was: what does this say about me?

That I didn’t try hard enough.

Wasn’t focused enough.

Wasn’t experienced enough.

Wasn’t good enough.

It felt like I had been an actress in a movie the whole time, filming had wrapped, and everything I had done was fake and scripted and not who I really was.

Which is wild because looking back now, I had so much to be proud of.

But at the time, my self worth was at zero…

If the villain in this fairytale was my toxic job that fired me, the hero ended up being the biggest plot twist of them all…

Those few months of unemployment had stages.

First was depression and fear. Sleeping all the time and slowly realizing I was recovering from burnout I didn’t even know I had.

Then came the panic. I needed a job, NOW.

I started blasting out generic resumes to literally anything marketing related. Any industry. Any salary. At one point I genuinely had a goal of applying to 50 jobs a day. And when most of them went unanswered, it just reinforced the belief that I was a fraud and no one was ever going to hire me again and I should probably go back to my old retail job.

Then something small and unexpected shifted everything.

My sister-in-law showed up at my house with two books. One with a red cover. One with a green cover.

The green one was thick, which was immediately intimidating. She gave me no context. Just told me I had time on my hands and to read the first 50 pages and report back.

Those books were A Court of Thorns and Roses and A Court of Mist and Fury. You know the ones.

That night, like the people pleaser I am, I read the 50 pages.

Then another 50.

Then I was hooked.

I devoured those books in days. For the first time in probably a decade, I wasn’t reading self help to improve or fix myself or become more productive. I was reading because it was fun.

And I know this sounds silly, but it was a turning point.

Suddenly I had something else to define myself by that had nothing to do with external validation or accomplishment.

Could I be… a reader?

And then, desperate for anything I could grab onto that I could identify with, it spiraled.

Sourdough starter. Painting. Crafting. Coloring. Air dry clay. Anything that sparked joy.

At the time, my mindset was that I had to make the most of my new found love for creative hobbies because surely it was only a matter of time before I was back in some corporate hell hole with no time or energy for anything that could bring me actual joy like this again.

But here’s what surprised me.

When people asked “what’s new?” I now had more to talk about than just work.

That’s when I started questioning everything.

Do I really have to sacrifice these things?

Can I have a job I love and still have a life outside of it?

That’s when my job search did a complete 180.

I stopped applying to everything. I started applying only to roles that felt aligned with the lifestyle I wanted outside of work. And for the first time, I decided to trust that I was valuable.

I knew I was onto something when I actually started getting replies. Then interviews. Then offers.

Exciting right? But here’s where the plot twisted again.

When I got an offer from a job that had a great salary, but everything else felt misaligned, I had a full on panic attack. I felt like I had to take it for the money. But my nervous system was screaming at me that this wasn’t it…

That’s when my husband reminded me I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do. I was allowed to say no. I was in control. I had the power. And THAT was an identity shift that felt like swimming through mud.

So, I said no to the money, because for the first time in my life, it wasn’t the most important thing to me.

The happy ending that’s still a work in progress…

Months after getting laid off, I found my dream job.

Like checked ALL. THE. BOXES. type of dream job.

And I wish I could say this is the part of the story where I totally healed myself, learned my lesson, and never equated my self worth to my job title or work performance again…

But it wasn’t. It still isn’t. And I don’t know if I will ever arrive at that place.

But what I do know is that even if the knot can’t ever be fully untangled, it can be loosened, and that creates a significant amount of breathing room I never thought I’d have.

I’m now two years into my dream job, and I still tie a lot of my self worth to my productivity.

When I don’t finish my to-do list, I still wonder if I’m actually good at my job.

If I get off vibes from my boss, my brain still goes “today’s the day.”

When something doesn’t work, I still think it’s proof I’m a fake who has no idea what she’s talking about.

When I rest, I still think I should be producing.

But now there’s something underneath all of that.

A foundation of hobbies, passions, and relationships that have nothing to do with my career.

I know my job isn’t who I am.

I have so much more going on in my life than just work.

I know if I lost my job again, it would hurt — but I would be okay — because I survived it once before.

And while being professional success is still very important to me I know I am valuable and worthy no matter what my job title is.

And that makes life feel just a little lighter.

If you’re stuck in the part of the story that feels more like a nightmare than a fairytale… this is for you

When I say “get a hobby,” I’m not saying your career shouldn’t matter.

Your work can absolutely be meaningful.
You can be passionate about it.
You can take pride in it.
You can be really, really good at it.

I still care deeply about my career. I love what I do. I’m proud of the work I put out into the world.

But it’s no longer the only place I go to feel proud of myself.

That’s the difference.

Because the truth is… your job will change.

You will change roles.
You will change companies.
You might change industries entirely.
You might get laid off.
You might leave something you thought you’d do forever.

Careers evolve. Sometimes by choice. Sometimes very much not by choice.

And when your entire identity is built around your job, every one of those changes feels like a threat to who you are.

That’s what happened to me.

When I got laid off, it wasn’t just a professional setback. It felt like a personal death. Like the version of me I had worked so hard to become had been erased overnight.

I never want to feel that way again.

And the only reason I don’t anymore is because my life got bigger.

Bigger than my job.
Bigger than my title.
Bigger than my productivity.

Now I have things that belong to me no matter what happens at work.

Books that pull me into other worlds.
Creative projects that make my brain light up.
Long walks that reset my nervous system.
Dogs who think I’m the most important person in the universe.
People who love me whether my to-do list is finished or not.

Those things don’t disappear if my job does.

They don’t get taken away in a layoff meeting.

They’re mine.

And when you build a life that has many places to feel joy, your career stops carrying the impossible weight of being the only thing that defines you.

Your job becomes what it was always meant to be.

Something you do.

Not who you are.

Instead of trying to “separate” your worth from your work overnight, here’s how you can begin a gentle untangling:

Describe yourself without mentioning your job. Not your title. Not your career goals.

Even better - reply to this email or comment on this post below as a declaration to the world that this is the real you.

You might be surprised how much is already there.

Leave a comment

And for context, here’s who I am outside of work — because defining this mattered more than I realized:

I’m a 29-year-old coffee and romantasy-reading enthusiast. I’m a mama to the two cutest dogs in the world. I’m a wife, a sister, a daughter, an auntie, and a friend. I’m a Leo. An enneagram 1. A lifepath 9. I value found family, spirituality, nature, holistic health, and childlike wonder. I am a homebody. I love hot yoga, music, painting, candle-lit bubble baths with a good book, horror movies and true crime, Notion, and late 90’s-early 2000’s movies and rom-coms. My happy place is my backyard or my office in the morning when the light is just right. Eating good food with good people brings me so much joy. Going for walks is usually the highlight of my day. Maintaining a calm, regulated nervous system is my definition of success.

None of that shows up on my resume.

All of it makes me me.

A small reminder to leave you with: You can care deeply about your work.

You can still be ambitious.
You can still chase big goals.
You can still build an incredible career.

Just don’t forget to build a life around it too.

Because when your life is full of curiosity, creativity, relationships, and things that make you feel like yourself…

No job has the power to take your identity with it ever again.

The secret to separating your worth from your career isn’t loving your job less.

It’s loving your life more.

What to read next:

I used to think there was a finish line where I’d finally exhale and life would be perfect.

All my hard work would finally pay off.

I would be the ideal best version of myself I knew existed out there somewhere.

I thought if I did all the things you’re supposed to do… you know the ones.

The education.

The husband.

The house.

The dream job.

That the happiness would kick in after.

Except… that moment never came.

And when your life looks objectively good on the outside but you’re still anxious, exhausted, and quietly unraveling on the inside, it’s hard not to turn that into a personal failure.

When all your dreams come true and you still aren’t happy it’s hard not to think, What is wrong with me? Why isn’t this enough yet?

Overachieving used to be my whole personality. Now, it’s a red flag for my nervous system

When I was in college I made being the best student my entire personality.

Straight A’s. Top of the class. Very “gold star teacher’s pet pick me girl” energy.

Cringe, yes, but at the time I wore it like a badge of honor.

I hated group projects because I wanted to be in complete control and my standards were so high no one could meet them. Naturally, I was SUPER fun to work with.

I would fight for grades when I got 90% on a test because… hello?? Why wasn’t it 100?? Surely, the teacher MUST be mistaken…

But in my head… Anything less meant I was less than.

I had to be the star student. So I was.

I graduated at the top of my class. I worked my ass off. I’m still proud of that.

But when I look back now, I don’t feel impressed.

I feel sad for her.

Because at the time, that was the only thing I had that made me feel worthy.

I was only 20 years old. I was living across the country from my now-husband while he was dealing with a life changing health issue. I was trying to be strong and supportive from afar while processing fear and guilt in real time.

I was one of the only students in my program who had to work a part-time job just to afford to be there.

I was exhausted. Lonely. Scared. And deeply, deeply in need of something solid to hold onto. Something that felt like it was in my control.

So I clung to the one place where effort turned into certainty.

Good grades were the validation and proof that I needed to feel like I mattered.

When I graduated, our main program professor handed out gag awards at our celebration dinner. I got an award that literally said:

“Most likely to be pissed about getting a 90% — for refusing to accept anything but the best.”

I remember feeling so proud.

Now?

If someone handed me that award today I’d be like… Oh babe😬😬That’s not a flex. That’s a cry for rest. And maybe a hobby. And probably therapy.

Not because ambition is bad. But because that level of perfectionism is unsustainable and would become my crutch and main coping strategy for my entire 20’s…

There’s GOT to be more to life than this….right?

Fast forward almost 10 years.

In the last 2 years specifically I’ve crossed some significant life milestones I spent my 20’s grinding to achieve.

I got married. Bought a house. Built my dream backyard. Have the 2 cutest dogs in the world. Landed my dream job as a Marketing and Operations Director for the best company.

Externally? Dream life. No notes.

Internally? Still anxious. Still exhausted. Still quietly terrified of not being enough.

Achieving all those “big life milestones” was supposed to change everything. But it didn’t.

I thought I was going to magically become the successful and fulfilled woman that I told myself for years was waiting for me on the other side of achievement.

But I’m not her…

Instead, I mostly feel lost. Disconnected. With burnout waiting for me on the corner perfectionism street and over functioning boulevard, which I frequent, often.

I define my worth through external validation.

I chase safety through achievement.

90% still isn’t good enough.

I measure my worth by output.

I set the bar so high that it’s always just out of reach even though no one is asking me to.

Overworking.

People-pleasing.

Hiding how I actually feel.

Beating myself up for missing a single day of a routine.

On the outside, it looks like I have it all together.

On the inside, I feel hollow.

So what’s a girl to do when her nervous system is basically screaming 24/7 to slow the fuck down?…

If the past 2 years have taught me anything it’s that:

• Overworking hurts my work performance even when I think that’s what makes me a good employee.

• People-pleasing is quietly damaging my relationships even when I think it creates connection.

• Overscheduling myself is stealing my time and joy even when I think it’s what makes me productive.

• Disregarding how I feel isn’t a success strategy. It’s a highway to burn out.

So I’m done asking, What’s wrong with me?

And I’m shifting to something gentler. I’m exploring:

Do I really have to choose between a calm nervous system and big goals?

Can ambition and a slow life coexist?

Can I heal while hustling?

The reframes I’m still practicing

This hasn’t been a glow-up. It’s been a slow unlearning.

I’m learning that:

• My worth exists even on low-output days

• The unfolded laundry I keep swearing I’ll get to tomorrow is not a moral failure

• Consistency and perfection are wildly different things

• Saying yes when I mean no quietly breaks trust with myself and creates resentment with the people I love

• Getting it done in bed in my purple fuzzy robe still counts. Showing up can look like whatever it needs to look like

• Expecting the same energy every day is completely unrealistic

Instead of using my hyper self-awareness as a weapon, I’m learning to use it as information.

Instead of defaulting to thinking “I suck at my job” because I didn’t finish my to-do list, I ask, “Did I expect too much of myself today?”

Instead of “I’m lazy” because I couldn’t get myself off the couch when I planned to exercise I ask, “What was sending my nervous system into freeze mode?”

One of the biggest shifts has been realizing that a calm nervous system isn’t make believe or woo-woo.

It’s the true definition of success.

What’s actually helping me feel better (and what absolutely ISN’T)

Working harder doesn’t help.

Achieving more doesn’t help.

Grinding through the resistance doesn’t help.

Waking up earlier definitely does not help.

Shocking, I know.

What has helped is lowering the pressure, not the goal. This looks like:

• Working from the couch in sweat pants on low-capacity days.

• Letting B quality work be good enough (even when my inner perfectionist is SCREAMING).

• A walk around the block with my dogs counts as a workout.

• 5 minutes of meditation is better than 0.

I’m working toward:

• Structuring my days around my natural rhythms instead of forcing myself into someone else’s version of discipline (aka NO more 5am alarms…)

• Creating filters and systems to support living with intention instead of on autopilot.

• Being WAY nicer to myself.

• Believing that I have a right to rest without earning it first.

Because I know these shifts don’t make me lazy or unprofessional. They make me sustainable.

Calm, as it turns out, is a wildly underrated success strategy.

Where I am now (spoiler alert - it’s not cute, it’s messy)

I still have big dreams. That part of me isn’t going anywhere.

But I’m learning how to pursue them without abandoning myself in the process.

Most days still feel so hard.

Wanting to be perfect.

Negative self-talk.

Imposter syndrome whispering, Today’s the day everyone finds out you’re a stupid idiot who doesn’t deserve any of this.

But the small shifts are starting to make things feel lighter.

For me, healing while hustling is about creating a lifestyle that supports more flow. More self-trust. Less urgency. More space to actually enjoy what I’ve worked so hard for.

Progress looks like a calmer nervous system, not smaller dreams. It looks like allowing myself to enjoy the view from the top and appreciate the journey before climbing the next mountain.

A small experiment for you this week

Notice one place you’re forcing yourself to show up the way you think you should and try meeting yourself where you actually are.

Stretch at 7am in your pajamas instead of 5am in a matching workout set.

Work from your bed if that’s all you have capacity for.

Lower the bar. Not the goal.

Either way - you still showed up.

And despite what your overachieving perfectionist brain wants you to think - that still counts.

I’m not here because I’ve figured this out.

I’m here because I’m living it.

I’m actively doing the work to build sustainable success.

The kind that doesn’t cost my mental or physical health.

The kind that allows me to enjoy life now, not when I’m retired.

And trust me, it’s a daily practice. One that feels like driving down a bumpy road in the dark, the GPS isn’t working, and I just want to turn around and go home but I wouldn’t even know how to get back if I tried so all I can do is move forward.

So if you’re like me and girl bossed a little too close to the sun and now…

You’re exhausted. Over functioning. Numb. Overwhelmed.

You feel like you’re constantly behind, even when you’re objectively crushing it.

You keep thinking “once things slow down, I’ll finally feel better” - but they never do slow down because you’re naturally a dream chaser and a goal getter.

You just want your life and career to feel lighter, calmer, and a little more sparkly.

Welcome to the Healing While Hustling Newsletter. You’re going to fit in great around here.

Together, we can achieve our wildest dreams without sacrificing our mental health, nervous system, or personal identity in the process.